Chapter One

Someone was out there.

Rachel DeLaune had sensed his presence for weeks now, but she had no idea who he was. Or why he was watching her.

Two nights ago, she'd caught a brief glimpse of him, lurking in the trees. She'd tried to tell herself she was seeing things, that it was just an over-active imagination that gave form to an ambiguous shape in the dark and set shadows in motion at the edge of the yard. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't dislodge a nagging premonition that something bad was about to happen.

It was as if she could feel a warning in the chill wind that blew through her open bedroom window. She could hear it in the distant peal of the cemetery bells, see it in the storm clouds that hung heavy in the eastern sky.

The signs were everywhere.

Rachel's gaze dropped to the circle of bruises around her wrist and she shivered. If there was one thing she'd learned in her sixteen years, it was that evil always left a mark.

Hugging herself tightly, she couldn't help peering into the darkness, probing the shadows, searching for movement, looking for yet another sign that would justify her unease.

You're just tired from being sick, she told herself. A bout of flu the previous week had left her with trembling limbs and a light head. Plus the pressure from trying to catch up at school-from trying to be the perfect daughter-was taking a toll.

Maybe that's it-I'm losing it. She was coming unhinged after years and years of secret-keeping. Maybe the first manifestation of impending insanity was paranoia. The fear that someone was out there in the dark watching her.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and she jumped. Her eyes squeezed closed as a terrible dread washed over.

Dear God, please. Not tonight...

Chapter Two


Rachel let out a relieved sigh as she glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Just after ten. It was too early. She had hours yet.

"Hey, open the door," her thirteen-year-old sister called from the hallway. "I know you're still up. I can see the light under the door."

Rachel winced. She could hear the anger in Sarah's voice and knew that a confrontation was inevitable. These days, all they ever did was fight. Sarah seemed to be in a constant state of simmering rage and it never took much to set her off.

Rachel drew back the door and Sarah came in-a thin, wiry girl with straight black hair and eyes as dark as a midnight shadow.

The sisters couldn't have been more unalike in either appearance or temperament. Sometimes Rachel wondered how they could have been born to the same parents. By nature and necessity, Rachel tended to keep everything hidden behind a smile, while the chip on Sarah's shoulder was a permanent and very visible weight.

Considering the way their father treated Sarah, her sister's dark moods were justified. James DeLaune made no bones about the fact that Rachel was his favorite. Which was why Rachel often took the brunt of Sarah's ...

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