This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Prologue
When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the dark. A lot of children are. Most parents tell their children that there is nothing to fear. Sometimes children are comforted by a light left on. Others need their parents to stay for a while, to read them a happy story. I can still remember my brother singing me to sleep.
As we grow, our parents teach us that these fears are unreasonable. They tell us that the man we saw by our bed was a trick of the light. The strange noises were the pipes creaking or the house settling and the whispers we heard as we fell asleep were only our imagination. By the time we are adults, we believe that there is no reason to hide, because we know that there isn’t anything out there.
When you were young, your parents told you that there was nothing to fear in the dark.
They lied.
Chapter One: The Castle
I walked slowly up to the ruined castle. It was still beautiful, even if the stones from the walls had fallen and there was barely any part of the tower remaining. Placing my palm on the outer wall sent a shiver down my spine. The thin ice layering the stone melted from the heat of my hand. I took a step back and drew my jacket close around me.
I’d always loved castles. There was an element of mystery about them that just couldn’t be found anywhere else. I slowly wandered between the walls of the ancient ruin, wondering what happened to this place and who lived here long ago.
“What are you doing here?” the voice I heard was masculine and demanding.
I turned to look into the most gorgeous green eyes I had ever seen. They were hostile. I choked slightly, searching for the words to say to the man. He suddenly put a finger to his lips. He looked up, his eyes flicking in every direction, as if he was searching for something.
“They’re here,” he whispered; the slightest hint of shock in his voice.
“Who’s here?” I asked in confusion.
“Run!” he cried, before quickly sprinting down the hill.
Bewildered, I followed him with no idea of what I was doing or where I was going. It was the sort of thing I usually avoided. I would usually just shake my head, think the man crazy and walk home, but there was something about him that I was drawn to.
We reached the outskirts of a forest which the man obviously deemed a good place to stop. “You should go home,” he told me.
“Why?”
“Because there are dangerous things out there that you don’t know about and don’t want to know about. Get out of here.”
“What are you talking about?”
He turned to look at me. “You’re Irish.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“You a tourist?”
“No.”
He levelled his eyes with mine and I realised that I was rooted to the spot. There was no way I could move right now, not that I really wanted to. I doubted anyone in my position would be able to do a thing. The man’s eyes had a fierce glint to them, a fire that would scare off the bravest of souls. His height added to the intimidation. He spoke softly, yet seemed deadly serious.
“I’ve seen things you would never believe. I know things that most people would never consider. I’ve experienced things that your worst nightmares don’t even come close to. And that is something you never want to get involved in. Go home, before it’s too late.”
With that he turned and trudged his way into the forest. I stood still for a moment, pondering what he’d just said. The look in his eyes I couldn’t get out of my head; the image just stayed put. Yet with everything he’d said and everything he’d done, only one question really needed answering.