Daughter Of The Flames
Isabella DeMarco was moaning in her sleep. Her fists clenched her pale blue sheets; tears and sweat trickled down her forehead as she rolled her head against her pillow.
Hustle it up, a voice urgently whispered to her. They're dogging you!
Izzy raced through the nightmare forest, a terrifying landscape of fleshy black trees garroted with hangman's necklaces of Spanish moss. A fiery moon blazed overhead, casting flickering shadows over rotting ferns and a matted bunting of ashy gray leaves.
Her surroundings heaved with menace and danger. The surface of a blood-colored swamp roiled as shapes glided toward the boggy earth where she ran. She saw it all with a strange clarity, as if part of her was a camera recording every moment instead of a young woman in flight for her life.
She heard herself panting in counterpoint with her ... read full excerpt from Daughter Of The Flames ebook
