Belladonna

...
    "Auntie!" Her heart swelled with relief when she saw Brighid staggering away from the cottage, coughing horribly, and bleeding from cuts probably made by broken glass.
    Her heart shrank to a cold, hard lump in her chest as she saw a shadow thicken in the ground behind her aunt, saw a darkness rise up and take the shape of a man holding a knife. He looked at Brighid, then looked at her and smiled — and she understood the message.
    He — it — can't touch me where I stand, hut if I stay, he'll kill Aunt Brighid. One of us lives, one of us dies. My choice.
    For a moment, she hesitated. Brighid hadn't been an easy woman to live with and she didn't think of her aunt with any warmth or joy, but Brighid had set aside her own life to help them when she and Michael were children, so she owed the woman for that.
    My choice. My life. Doesn't mean I won't try to survive.
    Watching the man-shaped darkness, Caitlin backed up to the very edge of the circle. She still had a chance. A running leap to land on the largest "hummock" and push off from there to solid ground.
    Lady of Light, help me. Please, help me.

    She held the hoe handle in one hand, its length evenly balanced. Probably better to leave it, but she didn't want to face the knife empty-handed.
    She took off across the circle, driving with her legs, putting everything she had into the leap.
    "Caitlin!" Brighid screamed.
    She didn't need to look. She could feel the change in the earth beneath her as her aunt and the world she knew faded away, disappearing altogether the moment the "hummock" vanished and her foot landed on the rust-colored sand.
    She stumbled, flailed, drove one end of the hoe handle into the sand. It caught on something, acting like a lever as it lifted an object up from the sand. The momentary resistance was enough to help Caitlin stay on her feet.
    She paused, gasping for air as she looked around. Rust-colored sand beneath a sky the color of ripe bruises. Nothing else —
    except that shifting black mound not too far from where she stood.
    Caitlin watched the mound, then shook her head. Couldn't be ants. Much too big to be ants.
    The mound shifted. She caught a glimpse of ... something. Thought she heard a wet-sounding cry.
    She turned to free the hoe handle — and froze at the sight of the rib cage that had been pulled out of the sand. She stared at the clean bones, then at the black mound.
    For one heartbeat — maybe two — something made a last, desperate effort to escape, knocking a few of the creatures away.
    In that heartbeat, she saw what was left of a boy's face.
    "Owen," she whispered.
    She couldn't help the boy. Even if she could pull him free of those creatures, she couldn't save the boy. So she freed the hoe handle from the old bones and backed away carefully and quietly to avoid attracting attention.
    When one of those unnatural ants noticed her and moved toward her, she did the only thing she could do.
    She ran.

    *
"Friend of yours?" Kenneday asked as their dinghy approached the stairs that led up to the south side of the Raven's Hill harbor.
    "He is," Michael replied, settling his pack as he watched the man waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Nathan had been a friend since boyhood and had remained one even after it became evident that Michael was a Magician. He came back to Raven's Hill out of love and duty; however, it was the time he spent with Nathan that made those visits tolerable.
    But having Nathan waiting around the harbor instead of working in his shop boded no good.
    Kenneday looked back at the crewman who had rowed them to the stairs. "Stay here and keep on eye on things in case we need to leave in a hurry," he said quietly.
    "Aye, Captain."
    Pretending he hadn't heard that exchange, Michael climbed the stairs. A cold fist squeezed his belly when he got close enough to see the worry — and regret — in Nathan's eyes.
    "Ah, Michael," Nathan said. "It's bad. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but it's bad."
    "What happened?" Michael asked. A nudge from behind had him shifting to make room for Kenneday.
    "Well, a couple of boys got into some mischief and —" Nathan stopped, swore softly, then shook his head. "No. I won't whitewash it like others want to do. The fact is we have conflicting stories and some things just plain aren't right, but the nub of it is Coyle and Roy — and we suspect Owen was with them but he hasn't been found yet — started their mischief by throwing rocks at the windows of your