Cadence McKenna knows her town is, well, odd. And yet, residents are accustomed to the near-daily supernatural happenings. When Gray Addison moves to Fane’s Cove and stays, she is shocked to find that she’s the only one who believes there must be something strange about him. With her life-long – if minor – psychic sensitivity, she knows that what she feels isn’t simple paranoia. After all, how many normal guys pay no mind to poltergeist activity occurring right in front of them? Cadence can’t dismiss her feelings until she understands why he’s in Fane’s Cove. Even if it means sticking her neck out by getting close to him… and learning more about her town’s history than anyone would ever want to know.
My words drop off sharply when Grey grabs my wrist and starts across the street,
tugging me along behind him.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Maybe I should be digging my heels in and giving him
a hard time, but I’m a little too curious about where we’re going to fight him.
He lifts his chin in the direction of the cemetery as we near it. “Proving your
I let him lead me through the cemetery gates and stay quiet as we wind along the
main path until we reach Old Part.
“This is where I saw you this morning,” I say, almost without realizing I’ve spoken
aloud, squinting and peering through the fence to confirm that the bagel shop is across
He relinquishes his hold on my wrist. It doesn’t occur to me to find anything
odd in the way he keeps hold of me until we get here; does he think I’ll run away or
“No Addisons in Fane’s Cove before me and my parents, right?”
I can’t help that a tiny gulp goes down my throat at the way his tone has suddenly
become calculating, but I stay on point, giving a nod.
“Then explain that,” he says coolly, pointing at one aged, worn headstone.
Frowning and heaving a sigh—there’s no call for being so dramatic—I pick my
way carefully between the old grave plots. I’m kind of superstitious about things like
stepping on graves. I kneel down in front of the weather-beaten, gray stone and run the
tips of my fingers over the old, now only faintly raised letters. All my thoughts screech to
a halt as the spelling finally becomes legible to me.
My stomach ices over a little, though I’m not entirely sure why, as I read aloud
the name, “Gabriel Addison.”
When I look up over my shoulder at him, Grey’s face is unreadable. His eyes shift
from the headstone my hand is lingering on to meet my gaze.
“I don’t understand,” I mumble.
“That makes two of us,” he says, the thinnest edge of anger in his voice.
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Gerilyn Marin is a self-proclaimed gothic tree-hugger, currently residing in the same small town where she grew up with her husband & 4 children. She is fascinated by paranormal phenomena & ancient cultures, and has received several awards and nominations for her writing. When not tapping away at the keyboard, or being yelled for by small people, Gerilyn spends time shying away from the sun, staring dreamily at pictures of supposedly haunted houses and deciding what color she’ll next use to torture her hair.