SevenCrystal Evers raced through the shadows up the bluff, up Fenelon Street, in terror. She heard the leathery flap of wings and the shriek again. This time, she didn't look back. In the night and fog there was nothing to see. She just ran.
A glow appeared on the left, a street lamp taking shape, and behind it the outline of the Thatcher House. The beautiful Bed and Breakfast had always been a palace in the mind of the little girl inside of Crystal. She'd grown up catty-corner from it on the quiet intersection. She knew her mother's house was there somewhere, lost in the gray swirl. She couldn't go home, you'd need a home for that, and she'd never be safe. But she was almost at her mother's and it had a door. But the flapping, the shrieking, and now a guttural growl, were right over her
