The Bloodstone Oracle (The Dark Gifts Companions) by Willow Cross Page A

moment before opening. Confusion clouded her face as she spoke.  “It is complete?”
    Eyes brimming with tears of relief, he answered, “You are safe.”
    Marie exhaled loudly.  “Then we should go.  We have many things to accomplish and little time to do it in.”
    Damien gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.  “We have a lifetime now.  More than enough time to set things to right.”
    “If only that were the truth of it.”
    “What preys upon your mind, my love?  The power has been envoked, you are safe.”
    Her swift smile belied the sadness in her eyes.   Tenderly extricating herself from his arms, she stood and smoothed her skirt before once again meeting his gaze.  “The text was not complete in its telling.  The stone offers more than mere safety; it also tenders a glimpse into the future.”
    His voice heavy with worry, he asked, “What did you see?”
    “The stone protects the wearer, my love.  And only as long as it hangs around my neck.”
    Damien’s hearty laugh did little to dispel the worry from her face.  “Then it is fine.  Nothing to fret over.”
    Marie’s eyes filled with tears as she placed her small hands over her belly.  “It is not fine,” she whispered.
    A look of complete understanding washed over his face as a multitude of emotions rushed through him.  When the baby came, they would be required to make a c hoice.  The life of their child or the life of its mother.
    His head moved from side to side as he spoke.  “I can’t.  It’s not possible.  The decision is...”
    She took a deep breath and slowly released it.  “The decision has already been made, my love.  We must hurry.  There is much to do and little time.”
    ***
    The acrid stench of burnt wood and bodies assailed her long before they rounded the winding passage through Cathair Thiar Mountain into the village of Adair.  She knew at the onset of the nauseating odor they were once again too late. 
    Kiana’s minions had ravaged and destroyed yet another conclave of Witches.  Glancing at her husband’s grave face, she pulled the scarf around her neck up over her mouth and nose.  Maybe this time someone escaped.  Surely one person...
    Marie jolted as her husband gently placed a hand over hers.  Without speaking, his eyes attempted to imbue her with hope.  Hope he obviously wasn’t feeling himself.
    She nodded and scanned the passing brush for any sign of life.  With great luck, maybe someone would see them and come forward.
    Just around the curve, the dirt road began to its descent into the valley below.  Tufts of smoke still issued from the charred remains of the village.  Many of the once thatched roof cottages had burnt completely to the ground.  Without warning, Damien pulled back on the reins and brought the horses to a complete halt.
    “Why are you stopping?”
    Damien, sickened by the sight below, met her gaze with apprehension.  “There is no point to this.”  He paused as his eyes flicked to her stomach before returning to the devastation below. “We must make haste to the sea.”
    Tears pooled in her eyes as she vigorously shook her head.  “If just one, Damien.  Just one.”
    Nodding resignedly, he cracked the reins and propelled the horses forward.  “If you must.”
    After what seemed like hours of combing the wreckage of her native village, Marie stood amongst the rubble in complete despair.  As predicted, she was the last remaining descendant of her bloodline.  Within weeks, Kiana had managed to wipe out her entire family as if the heirs of Abernathe had never existed. 
    Her eyes moved over the blackened p ile of ash that used to be her Grandmother’s home.  Memories of fresh baked bread, laughter, and running through the small structure with her numerous cousins flooded her thoughts.  As if time had not passed at all, she could still see her Grandmother’s weathered face surrounded by shimmering locks of silver, mischievously grinning as her lilting