Her skin was smooth and flawless, giving her the appearance of extreme youth, very much at odds with the knowledge in her direct gaze. She simply stood there quietly, her incredible eyes fixed on him.
“How did you get through the gate?”
It wasn’t what he expected. Damon half turned to look back at the wrought-iron masterpiece of art. The gate was six feet high and an intricate piece of craftsmanship. He had studied it on more than one occasion, noting the symbols and depictions of various animals and stars and moons. A collage of creatures with raw power mixed with universal signs of the earth, water, fire, and wind. Always before when he had come to stare at the house and grounds the gate had been firmly locked.
“It was open,” he replied simply.
Her eyebrow shot up and she looked from him to the gate and back again. There was interest in her gaze. “And the dogs?” Her hand dropped to one massive head as she absently scratched the ears.
“They gave me the once-over and decided I was friendly,” he answered.
A faint frown touched her face, was gone in an instant. “Did they? You must get along well with animals.”
“I don’t get along well with anything,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He was so shocked and embarrassed at the admission he couldn’t find a way to laugh it off, so it remained there between them.
Sarah simply studied his face for a long while. An eternity. She had a direct gaze that seemed to see past his physical body and delve straight to his soul. It made Damon uncomfortable and ashamed. “You’d better come in and sit down for a while,” she said. “There’s a blackness around your aura. I can tell you’re in pain, although I can’t see why you’ve come yet.” She turned and went into the house, clearly expecting him to follow her. Both dogs did, hurrying after her, pacing at her heels.
Damon had been acting out of character ever since he heard that first whisper of gossip. He stood, leaning on his cane, wondering what had gotten into him. He’d seen the mighty Sarah. She was just a woman with incredible eyes. That was all. She couldn’t walk on water or move mountains. She couldn’t scale impossible cliffs or assassinate heads of terrorist organizations. She was just a woman. And probably as loony as hell. His aura was black? What the hell did that mean? She probably had voodoo dolls and dead chickens in her house.
He stared at the open door. She didn’t come back or look to see if he was following. The house had swallowed her up. Mysterious Sarah. Damon lifted his eyes to the gathering darkness, to the first stars and the floating wisps of clouds. It irritated him but he knew he was going to follow her into that house. Just like her damn dogs.
Damon consoled himself with the fact that he was extremely interested in the preservation of wood and paint. He had been interested in her house long before she arrived back in town. He couldn’t pass up a genuine opportunity to study it up close, even if it meant trying to make small talk with a crazy stranger. He raked his hand through his dark hair and glared at the empty doorway. Muttering curses beneath his breath, he stalked after her as best he could with his cane and his damaged hip and leg.
The porch stairs were as solid as a rock. The verandah itself was wide and beautiful, wrapping around the house, an invitation to sit in the shade and enjoy the view of the pounding sea. Damon wanted to linger there and continue to feel the peace of Sarah’s home, but he stepped inside. The air seemed cool and scented, smelling of some fragrance that reminded him of the forests and flowers. The entryway was wide, tiled with a mosaic design, and it opened into a huge room.
With a sense of awe, Damon stared down at the artwork on the floor. There was a feeling of falling into another world when he looked at it. The deep blue of the sea was really the ocean in the sky. Stars burst and flared into life. The moon