Christina Dodd’s SCENT OF DARKNESS is on the shelves now!
Please enjoy an extra excerpt, especially for you, with my compliments!
Continued from the first excerpt at http://christinadodd.com/excerpt.php?excerptid=000041 :
Using every ounce of courage she possessed, Ann ran back toward the house, grabbed the door and slammed it shut.
Let Mr. Wolfman claw his way through that.
As she sprinted toward the car, she sorted through the keys. The wind-blown rain slapped her in the face, clearing her brain … what good did a clear brain do her? Everything she believed in, everything she knew as true, was vanquished by the reality of that thing in the house. That wolf. The man she loved.
Jasha.
The Miata’s lights flashed as she unlocked the door with the remote. She slid into the seat, and scraped her knee on the steering column. She knew it must hurt. She just couldn’t feel it. Not now. Not yet. She didn’t have time.
She slammed the door. Glanced at the house. Tried to get the key in the ignition. Tried again.
Her hand was shaking too hard to make the connection.
She glanced at the house again — and saw the wolf leap through the sidelight beside front door. The glorious, expensive, leaded glass sprayed outward as his sleek body arched through, head outstretched, teeth bared.
Magically, her hand steadied and the key slid into the ignition. She started the car; she’d never heard a sound as wonderful as her engine turning over. She put her foot to the floor. The car leaped forward and she whipped around the circle drive with the verve and expertise of a driver in the Grand Prix.
Rain sluiced down the windshield. She fumbled with the wipers, got them on … in the intermittent mode. As the wipers slid unhurriedly across the windshield, she cursed the new car, the unfamiliar controls, the desire that had brought her here.
She should have known better. She was an orphan, abandoned and alone, marked by evil, rejected by the Almighty. Sister Mary Margaret had urged her to accept her fate and live her life alone, but Ann had rebelled.
Now she swore she’d thank God if she lived at all — especially since she hadn’t even put on her seatbelt.
Then she glanced into the rearview mirror.
The wolf raced across the grass after the car.
To hell with the seatbelt.
He couldn’t catch her. She knew it was impossible. Wolves couldn’t move as fast as a car.
But men didn’t turn into wolves, either. Maybe Jasha was a freaking transformer. Maybe he was going to turn into a giant mechanized robot and stomp on her and her car.
She bent her attention to the road, driving faster than she ever had in her life.
The wind buffeted the tiny Miata. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked. Her hair dripped into her eyes. Her hands slipped on the steering wheel: from the rain, from fear-induced sweat. She squinted through the blurry windshield, taking the winding curves too fast, seeing the ocean cliffs flash past as she cleared the forest then, as she turned inland again, the trees loom above her. Soon she would skirt the cliffs again. She needed to concentrate, to remember the route she’d driven only once …
Without warning, the road rose, then dipped, then rose. The car was airborne. She was airborne. With a jaw-snapping impact, the wheels hit the asphalt. The airbag exploded in her face, smothering her in white for one vital moment.
As it subsided, she desperately clawed it out of the way. Then she could see. The car was headed straight — but the road curved. Curved to the left, and ahead she saw nothing but rain and clouds and the edge of the cliff.
She slammed on the brakes. The car hydroplaned, the rear wheels sliding sideways.
At last the tread caught. She was in control.
But too late. Too late. The rear wheels dropped off the precipice. Half the car hung over the cliff, over the rocks and the ocean. The undercarriage screamed as it scraped the asphalt.
I’m going to die.
The side panel smacked something. Something big. A boulder. A tree trunk. Metal crunched. The car stopped. Stopped so suddenly she slid sideways into the passenger seat. She lost her grip on the wheel. Her legs tangled with the console. She sat frozen, waiting for the car to tip, to plunge her into the ocean.
Nothing moved. The stench of hot metal and burning rubber filled her nose. She was still alive — and if she wanted to stay that way, she had to get out. Get out before the car plunged off the cliff. Get out before it burst into flame.
She put on the emergency brake, then closed her eyes. Taking care not to suddenly shift her weight, she grasped the handle and opened the door. All her care was wasted; the wind caught it and jerked it wide. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable shift and tumble.
Nothing.
Distantly she noted that her hand was now steady. Somewhere on this wild ride, she had transcended terror.
She slid her leg out, inched her butt along the seat, then gradually stood.
The car hung there, suspended over the cliff, resting on the front tires and the frame.
She stepped away from it. Backed away, waiting for it to take the plunge.
The Miata remained still.
She stood alone on a one-lane private road. Her new car was smashed and unsalvageable, a testament to her bad driving — and a sign to Jasha that she was helpless and on foot. She was barefoot, rain lashed her and — she faced back the way she came —nothing made sense, especially not the wolf who was Jasha.
I have to hide.
On one side of the road, the ocean lashed the base of the cliff. On the other, the primeval forest loomed, dark and thick, branches lashing in the wind. She didn’t want to go in there.
Then in the distance, a wolf howled.
He was coming for her.
Ann sprinted across the road and into the forest.
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