The Bloodstone Oracle (The Dark Gifts Companions) Read Free Page A

pond as if held by invisible hands.  Marie felt her breath catch in her chest.  Instinct told her that when the tear fell, what came after would be devastating. 
    Images began to form in the water .  Kiana, her mass of unkempt hair dripping with blood, spun in slow circles while laughing manically at the burned corpses of her latest victims.  A young boy, no more than ten, cowered at her knees begging to be spared.  Kiana grabbed the child’s hair and yanked his head back to peer into his dirt and tear smudged face.  “Where is she?” she screamed.
    The boy stuttered as he attempted to speak.  “I-I d-don’t know who she is.”
    Before he could blink, the old Witch had jerked him to his feet and placed a blood-stained knife against his throat.   “I will ask once more, boy.  Where is she?  You should know her well as anyone.  She’s your cousin.”
    Marie desperately tried to scream at Kiana and force her to let the boy go.  She didn’t know half of her cousins, especially the youngest of them.  At one time her family had been large and close-knit, but with Kiana’s constant attacks against them, they’d spread out far and wide many years ago.  There was no way this child would know her.
    Tears poured down the youngster’s cheeks, but unable to give the evil woman what she wanted, he remained silent.
    The old Witch hurled the boy to the ground and paced back and forth for a few moments before cackling with glee.  “We’ll just see what the blood knows then,” she said as she grabbed his arm and drug him several yards across the village plaza to the alter stone.  The knife easily sliced across his tender flesh.  Blood oozed from the wound.  Before it could drip to the ground, Kiana caught it in her cupped hand and transferred the fluid to the stone.  Kiana muttered an incantation and the fluid began to bubble and move about the stone in intricate lines and patterns.
    Here and there symbols and letters would form in the macabre liquid.  Kiana intensely watched the stone, taking in every detail the blood-spell offered.  Every so often, she’d hiss in disgust, “I know this.  Show me more!”
    Terror gripped Marie’s heart as she recognized and translated the words being spelled out from Gaelic to English: Hannah, Lockheart, Augustine, Americas, and finally Vampire.  Although she was fully aware her body remained in the small upstairs room of the Inn, she violently shuddered as the vision grew dark and transformed into another completely unfamiliar landscape.
    She floated above a small cabin nestled in the clearing of a vast forest.  As her vision zoomed in, she found herself on the front porch peering in through a plate glass window.  Inside a young girl , with golden ringlets cascading to her waist, vehemently argued with a tall, raven-haired man.  For a moment she wondered what this scene could possibly have to do with future events.  What was so unusual about a teenage girl fighting with her father?
    When the girl completely lost her temper and threw a book against the wall, Marie gasped.  Not at the temper tantrum, but at the dent the book left in the wood plank it hit.  Suddenly the girl spun and hissed at the man.  Identical fangs protruded between her perfectly pink lips.  The man bellowed, “I’m sick of all this ghost talk.  You and your William need to grow up.  Read a book, learn something!  Try to become a useful member of society.”
    Once again, Marie’s vision grew dark and she stood in the cavern watching the suspended tear over the pool.  A multitude of chattering voices filled the cave making it nearly impossible for her to focus on any one voice and what was being said.  Frigid winds whipped around her flailing her hair in every direction as the intensity of the voices grew. 
    “Stop!” Marie screamed.  “I can’t understand you!”
    As the onslaught of voices and air died down, Marie felt a presence at her side.  Slowly turning her head, she saw