Chapter 27: The White Hell
The gale slammed into the jagged bluffs of Blackwood Crest with the force of an avalanche, transforming the entire coastline into a howling, featureless desert of flying ice. Within three hours, the mercury dropped straight through zero and continued its plunge, stripping away the lingering moisture in the air until each breath burned like swallowed needles. Across the street, the manicured cedar hedges were torn to shredded sticks, while the imported sports cars lining the neighborhood driveways disappeared beneath towering drifts of hard, wind-packed crust.
Snow piled four feet high against the grand entrance of the Sterling estate, packing into the door jambs and turning the ornamental glass inserts into solid white slabs. The wind screamed through the limes
