Search for the Crystal Key (A Continuation of Dark Escape)

Chapter 1

Flames engulfed the cottage and taunted the leaves of the old apple tree, forcing its sap to the surface to help ease the scattered damage to the charred bark. The hot, dry air seared her lungs. She'd never experienced heat of this nature. Her skin hurt to the touch. She could see the evilness in Dominic's eyes as he prowled the parameter of the dwelling. His bellowing pierced through the chaos, "I want to you Tara. If I can't have your body, I'll have your soul!"

Tara's firelight curls fell over her shoulders and down her back in wild abandonment as she shook free memories of that horrible, fateful night. Sliding her hands up the sleeves of her oversized lamb's wool sweater she hugged her tall, slender body against the chill both from the air and her thoughts.

Leaning her head against the window pane, her dark green eyes peered at the blanket of frantic white snowflakes as they billowed toward barely visible outbuildings. The howling gales of winter echoed throughout the rolling Pennsylvania valley with a resemblance of a collective of musical instruments paying homage to old man winter while they shook the one-hundred-eighty-year-old house; rattling its windows with such force that one might expect the antique dwelling to be swept into the Land of Oz.

The nor'easter had arrived with a vengeance, showing no mercy for the impuissant inhabitants of the land. She'd focused so hard on preparing the grand old house for the oncoming winter that the equally grand stable hadn't received the attention to insure its strength for a season of storms such as this.

The storm made it easy for her to come to terms with her decision to find a handyman to finish the needed repairs. She filled her lungs with the crisp air that managed to find its way through her newly caulked windows and hoped the outbuildings were sturdy enough to make it to spring in one piece; after which she'd give them the attention they required.

She snugged beneath the afghan her Aunt Eva gifted her at Christmas. The roaring fire in the newly renovated fireplace illuminated the rustic red bricks that spoke of days gone by. She missed her aunt and was eager for her next visit. Her loneliness was accentuated not only by her missing Eva's vibrancy, but Dennis was on vacation down south and her father had called her last minute full of excitement about his archeological find and begged to be excused from the holidays because he didn't dare abandon the dig and risk vandalism. Tara understood, but was still saddened by his absence.

The warmth emanating from the dancing flames struggled to evade the draw of the chimney that permitted it to merely hover within feet of the open hearth, leaving the rest of the room prey to the icy air that crept steadily through the badly insulated walls and windows. The dilapidated steam radiators that were installed throughout the house soon after their invention provided little assistance. She stood up and pushed the sofa closer toward the fire, being Her daydream was so real, her lungs actually felt singed. She drew in as much cooling air as she could one more time and then released it slowly, focusing on the light mist that formed from the moist warmth of her breath on the cold window pane.

She was always active and outgoing. Finding herself snowed in with limited connection to the outside world for over a week took its toll on her mood. It gave her far too much time to think. It ripped at her soul to know that because of her and her stupidity in summoning the dark side -followed by her poor choice in men- many had suffered loss and heartache.

She walked over to the large, overstuffed horse-hair sofa she recently had restored and snuggled under the thick multi-colored careful not to get so close that a stray spark might damage its rich, newly applied tapestry upholstery. Resuming her spot under the afghan, she passed the dismal afternoon hours in cozy slumber.

The setting sun crept over the distant mountain top before Tara roused herself from her blissful snooze. The fire needed attention. She debated whether to add more wood and stoke it back to its former level or let it die out for the night. The house had eighteen fireplaces and, although she enjoyed the ambience of her downstairs study, surely, she could find a room more protected from the outdoor elements and start a warming fire there. Deciding it was best to close the room off until its leaks were tended to, she pushed the glowing remnants of heat under a pile of thick, lifeless ashes and felt the last hint of warmth trickle away. Satisfied, she rubbed her upper arms against the impending cold of the night yet to come and left the room.