Haven gasped, sitting up. Her eyes darted around her bedroom searching for whatever had disturbed her sleep. There was nothing out of place, no sounds or movement. Everything was as it should be. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

She drew in a ragged breath and combed a hand through her ebony-colored hair. Shoving the covers back, she tiptoed out of bed, though no one else was in her apartment.

Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, her breaths sharp and uneven. Cold chills raced through her as gooseflesh pimpled her skin.

Haven swallowed hard, placing a hand over her heart. The further she crept into the front room, the worse she felt. Once again, nothing was out of place. The shakes wouldn’t subside. Sweat beaded on her brow.

She swiped a hand over her forehead and then rubbed it on her plaid pajama bottoms. What was wrong with her? Was she having a heart attack or stroke? She was only twenty-seven, but she’d heard of stranger things happening.

Closing her eyes, she drew in deep, even breaths, forcing her heart to calm. After several long moments, it worked.

Her limbs stopped shaking and the frantic staccato of her heart slowed to a steady thrum. She twisted her hair and tossed it over her shoulder before heading to the kitchen for some water.

The icy liquid slid down her parched throat, but did little to ease the thrumming that still remained in the pit of her stomach. Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something wasn’t right?

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Her eyes drifted to the greenish-blue digits on the stove. It was nearly 4am. She needed to go back to bed, or she’d be dragging serious ass all day at work.

Haven set her glass in the sink and started for her bedroom, only to freeze a second later. Ice had frozen over her front room window. Thick ice – so thick she couldn’t see out of it. It was mid-July and in the eighties outside. There was no logical explanation for there to be ice.

She gulped, turning slowly so she could peer into her bedroom. That window was frozen over, too. What the hell was going on?

The frantic pumping of her pulse thrummed in her ears. Her fingers trembled and the butterflies in her belly fluttered so fast she thought she might vomit.

She had to get out of here. It didn’t matter where she went as long as she left – right now.

Her feet thudded against the wooden floorboards as she hurried to her purse and car keys. She snatched them up while slipping her flip-flops on and then headed for the door.

Haven reached for the handle, but before her fingers touched it, it began to move. The knob twisted slowly, methodically. She whimpered and took a step back.

Her hands dug into her purse, trying to find the mace she kept in there. She’d never had to use it before – never thought she’d needed to. Her hands curled around the tiny bottle, and she pulled it out. It was one of the only things she still kept from her Uncle Stephen, who had become her adoptive father when her parents died.

Stephen. He’d know what to do. He’d always told her fantasy stories about the supernatural and teased her about how she might need to know them some day. It looked like he might’ve been right. He’d refused to tell her anything about her past, though, which was why she’d left and hadn’t spoken to him in two years.

The knob jiggled, and the lock on the door slipped over. It shoved open, only stopping because of the chain she had strung across the top.

Haven squeaked. As she shuffled backward, her butt collided with the vase on her end table. The vase teetered for a moment before it careened to the floor. The glass smashed when it hit the wood. Water and flower petals slid across the room.

Her eyes flashed from the destroyed vase to the door. It was shut again, but the chain was sliding out of place by itself. She covered her mouth to stifle her scream.

Spinning on her heel, she hopped over the water and glass, making a beeline for the back sliding door. She peered out the window that thankfully wasn’t frosted over. Nothing. No one was out there.

She threw the door open and sprinted across the back of the apartment’s property. Her car was on the other side of the building. She could make it there, hopefully before the intruder realized she’d left out the back.

Rounding the corner, she froze. Two men dressed in black, gothic robes stood outside her door. They hadn’t seen her yet. She slowed her pace and crept forward, shifting her gaze between her car and the door.

Her vehicle was only a few more feet away. She fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one for her car. She didn’t want to press the button. The beeping as the car unlocked would undoubtedly alert the men, whoever they were, to her escape. With any luck, she could get in her car and start it before they knew she was out here.

The two men disappeared inside her apartment. How long would it take them to realize she wasn’t there? She didn’t want to wait around to find out.

Closing the distance to her vehicle, she jammed her key into the lock and turned it.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She shrieked. Spinning around, she pressed her finger down on the button of the can she still clutched. The mace sprayed out of the container right into her attacker’s face.

He gagged and took a few steps back. Her eyes shot to the door where the other man was. One second he was there; the next, he was right before her face. His speed was impossible.

Screaming again, Haven held the mace up and emptied the rest of the contents before chucking the empty canister at the closer man, hitting him in the face. She yanked her door open and climbed in.

Her fingers trembled as she tried to get the key into the ignition. Finally, it slipped in. She turned the key and let out a silent thanks when her car roared to life. She threw the car into reverse and stomped on the gas.

She winced when the back of her car almost collided with a parked car. She shoved her car into drive and smashed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The vehicle lurched forward as her engine revved. It shot down through the parking lot, reaching dangerous speeds for the area in just a few seconds. Thank god there were no children out playing this time of night.

Haven careened onto the main road without bothering to stop at the traffic sign. There were no other cars on the road this time of night, anyway. She kept the car at a steady speed while flicking her attention from the road to the rearview mirror every few seconds.

When a form appeared, she gasped. That wasn’t possible. The person sped toward her on foot at an alarming rate. She was going nearly sixty miles per an hour. It shouldn’t be possible. How was he catching her?

She screeched when he grasped her back bumper. She floored it, the car shuddered, and the back end ripped off. Sparks flew off the pavement as the bumper skidded on the road. The man was undeterred. He caught back up to her, this time leaping.

His body thumped on top of her car. Haven jerked the wheel from side to side. The man’s fist punched through the roof and grabbed a handful of her hair.

She swatted at his arm with one hand, trying to keep her other hand on the wheel. Her heart hammered so hard she feared it might beat right out of her chest. She swerved hard to the right in a final effort to get the man off her car.

It worked. He was flung to the side and sent flying into a nearby tree. Pain exploded on her head from where he’d ripped hair out. She grimaced, but pushed past the pain.

She turned the wheel to the left trying to correct course, but it was too late. She was heading straight for a building.

Haven tried to steer the car, but it was no use. She screamed and covered her face with her hands. She waited for the pain to hit. It should have by now. Peering through her fingers, she gasped.

She was still sitting in a car, but it wasn’t hers. Her car was gone. So was the building. She peered around. Where was she?

It took her several moments to place her location. She was several blocks away in some old car. How the hell had she gotten here? It wasn’t possible.

She looked around one last time. There was no explanation, but there was no denying it. She shoved the car door open and darted off down the sidewalk. She didn’t know who was after her or where they were, but she wasn’t going to wait around.

She hurried to the train station hoping they were still open. She was getting on a train first chance she got. It was time for Stephen to start talking. All those stories he’d told her had to be true. It was the only way to explain what had just happened.

Her pulse roared in her ears at the thought. Vampires, witches, demons, and shape-shifters were real. It wasn’t possible. Or was it?

****

Haven ambled down the stairs of the train and stopped. Stephen stood waiting for her at the end of the platform. She marched toward him, shaking her head.

“How did you know I’d be here?” She stopped in front of him and crossed her hands over her chest. What was going on?

“Intuition. Come.” He turned on his heel, not even bothering to make sure she would follow.

That was typical Stephen for you. He led and expected you to follow. She always had, too, at least until two years ago when she’d simply had enough. The man could be infuriating at times. All she wanted was to know about her parents and family. He never answered one of her questions, but he’d tell her everything else.

Haven raced to catch up to him. “How did you know to wait for me?” she asked falling into step next to him.

“I told you, intuition.” He led her through the busy train station and out into the parking lot.

Anger fumed beneath the surface as she followed him. Intuition. That was the best he could come up with? They hadn’t seen each other in two years, and he just happened to show up waiting for her at the train station the morning after she had been attacked. That was too much to be considered ‘intuition.’ Something else was going on, and damn it, he was going to tell her what it was.

They stopped at his car. Stephen went to get in, but she spoke up first. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you give me some answers, Stephen. I deserve to know the truth.” She tapped her foot on the blacktop and waited. He hated when she called him by his first name. At one point she’d called him Dad, but now, with all the deception and lies, he was lucky if she called him Uncle Stephen.

“I can’t give them to you, Haven.” He sighed, smoothing a hand over his graying beard. “I wish I could, my sweet girl.”

She hated when he used that nickname for her. It had been sweet at one point, but now, it just made her sick. He was still withholding information from her.

When she made no effort to move, he continued, “I will take you someplace where you can get all of your answers.”

“Yeah? Where’s that?” she asked.

“Emerick, Tennessee?”

She frowned. “I’ve never heard of it. Where is it?” She had half a mind to ask if this was another ploy of his just to get her in the car, but the tingling butterflies fluttered in her belly again.

Her eyes darted around the area. The weird men in robes were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around.

Huffing, she went to the passenger side of the car.

Once she was inside and buckled, Stephen spoke up again. “Emerick is a small town in Tennessee near the mountains. The population is only a few hundred. You’ll be safe there, and far away from anyone who is trying to harm you.”

“How did you know someone came after me?” Haven asked.

Stephen opened his mouth, but she cut him off, “If you tell me intuition again, I’m going to get right back out of this car.”

Stephen turned the key, and the car roared to life. He put the car in reverse and started to drive before he answered her, “I just knew. Call it a sixth sense, if you will.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” she asked.

“I didn’t know until about the same time you did, my sweet girl. By that time, it was too late, and you were already well aware of the problem.” He reached out like he wanted to touch her but stopped. Instead, he let his hand drop down to the gear shift.

“I deserve answers, Stephen. Please, please tell me what is going on.” She’d begged at least a hundred times in the past, never with any results. This time wouldn’t be any different, she could tell.

“I can’t tell you, Haven.” He shook his head sadly.

She stared at him a long moment. He always said he couldn’t. Did he mean literally? “Can’t, or won’t?” she asked quietly.

“Can’t.” He turned to her, offering her a grim smile. “I’m taking you to someone who can. Please come with me to Emerick?”

She licked her lips and sighed. Stephen might withhold the truth from her constantly, but he’d never put her in harm’s way. Like it or not, he was the only person she could trust right now.

“Why Emerick? What’s so special about this backwater town?” she asked, flopping back in her seat.

“I promise—you’ll find out when we get there. Please just sit down and relax, my sweet girl. You’re safe now.”

She gritted her teeth and groaned, even though a sense of calmness washed over her, which was odd, considering she felt anything but calm. Once again, she was getting more elusive answers. Was it too much to ask to get one straight answer from the man? Apparently so.

Her eyes slipped shut and she sighed, too tired to fight. After her early-morning attack and the train ride from Brooklyn to see Stephen, she was exhausted and didn’t feel like fighting.

If there weren’t answers in Emerick like Stephen promised, she was outta there, and she’d never go to him for help again.