Celeste didn’t blink. Her lips parted slightly as she studied me, like she was weighing my words, measuring the fire in my voice. Then she smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“That’s more like it,” she whispered.
The wind blows gently.
It carried the smell of wet leaves and Celeste's fragrance. The pendant on my neck pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own.
“You have no idea what that name means,” she added, her tone turning grave. “But you will. You will, Eli Turner.”
I stared out at the horizon. I still don't understand what she meant by everything she was saying, but I believe I was going to understand all of it with time.
“So where do we begin?” I let out a stare at her face.
She crouched down and traced something on the ground with her finger. A
