Page 45 of The Immortal’s Mark

Heat skates across my skin.

Des’ unreserved admission after the weeks of denial still sends my pulse racing. It feeds every reckless thing inside me that wants to cross the distance and wrap my arms around his neck and insist we stop⁠—

I dig my fingers into stone and jerk my head once. Stop it, Darcie.

“You need to hide it better.” Alex’s words are firm, but not harsh.

“I’m trying.” Des tips his head toward the open edge of the terrace. “It’s why I came out here so no one would see.”

A flicker of understanding crosses Alex’s face. “I’ll reach out to my sources and see who can help walk Darcie through this transition.”

The hairs on my arms stand on end.

Transition?

Des’s mouth opens, a question forming.

I take a step, desperate to hear what he’s about to say.

I don’t get the chance.

The floor drops out beneath me.

The terrace goes first, then the sky. A velvet curtain falls all around me, throwing me into darkness.

Don’t panic.

I clamp my eyes shut and take a deep breath as my head swirls like a blizzard ripping through the trees in Maine.

You had a vision, I remind myself. You’re okay.

I count to two, then exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My pulse throbs in my temples, but eventually, the spinning stops.

I crack my aching eyes open and gasp.

I should have kept them closed.

I’m not back in the real world.

Seven figures stride through unnatural fog rolling over an unseen floor.

Their long, plum cloaks disappear into the distorting cloud while deep hoods swallow their features.

Rushing blood roars in my ears.

“S-stop.” My voice comes out thin, shredded. “Stop right there!”

They don’t.

“Who are you?!” I shout, staggering back.

No answer.