Copper Beach

stumbled through the miniature jungle of giant ferns that choked the little garden. Many of the fronds were taller than she was.

    To think she had come to the countryside to rest and recuperate from recent events.

    “Bloody hell, come back here,” Hobson howled from the bedroom window. “Make things difficult, will ye? I’ll take my time with ye when I do catch you, just see if I don’t. You’ll die nice and slow, and that’s a promise. Bloody little bitch.”

    A string of savage curses told her that Hobson was finding it impossible to squeeze through the casement window. A tiny whisper of hope swept through her when she did not hear the pounding of footsteps behind her. Hobson would be forced to use one of the two doors in the cottage. That meant she had a little breathing room, time enough, perhaps, to make it to the only possible sanctuary.

    There was no escape through the woods that bordered the lane. The moon was nearly full, but the heavy canopy of summer leaves blocked the silver light that should have dappled the forest floor. Even if she’d had a lantern she would not have been able to make her way through the dense undergrowth. She knew just how impenetrable the vegetation in the vicinity of the old abbey was because she had attempted to explore it during the day. The trees and undergrowth around the ancient ruins flourished in what the locals whispered was an unnatural manner.

    She found the graveled garden walk and flew down it, the hem of the wrapper flapping wildly. She paused long enough to unlatch the gate, and then she was out in the moonlit lane, running for her life. She knew that Hobson would see her as soon as he emerged from the cottage.

    Heavy footfalls thudded behind her.

    “I have ye now, ye silly bitch. Ye’ll soon get a taste of Sharpy’s blade.”

    She risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the dark figure bearing down on her. She would have screamed, but there was no point wasting her breath. She ran harder, heart pounding.

    The ancient stone walls that protected the vast grounds of Crystal Gardens appeared impregnable in the moonlight. She knew from previous explorations that the massive iron gate was locked.

    There was no point trying to run the length of the long wall to the front door of the sprawling country house. There was no time. Hobson was gaining on her. His footsteps were closer now. She could hear his harsh breathing, or perhaps it was her own labored gasps that she heard.

    She reached the back wall of the ancient abbey and raced toward the mound of overgrown foliage that concealed the jagged hole in the stone barrier. She had discovered the opening a few days ago and had decided to indulge in some discreet exploration before the new owner had arrived to take up residence. She could not help herself. Her sense of curiosity was linked in some ways to her psychical talent and the mystery of Crystal Gardens that had fascinated her from the start. It was the reason she had chosen to rent Fern Gate Cottage instead of one of the other properties available in the countryside around Little Dixby.

    The fact that the rent on the cottage was considerably cheaper than it was for the other suitable lodgings in the area had also been a factor. But she had discovered soon enough why the little house was a bargain. The locals feared the abbey and the woods around it.

    She slammed to a stop in front of the concealing foliage and pulled aside a curtain of cascading greenery. The jagged opening in the stone was about two feet above ground level. It was large enough for a person, even a man the size of Hobson, to squeeze through. But if he did pursue her onto the grounds, she might have a chance.

    She looked back one last time. Hobson had not yet rounded the corner of the wall, but he would at any second. She could hear him—his thudding footsteps and his harsh breathing—but she could not yet see him. She had a few seconds.

    She put one leg over the broken stone and then the other, and then she was inside the grounds of Crystal Gardens.

    She caught her breath, transfixed by the eerie scene that surrounded her. She had seen enough of the strange gardens by day to know that there was something bizarre about the energy inside the walls and that the vegetation was not normal. But at night the paranormal elements were unmistakable.

    The foliage on the vast grounds glowed with an eerie luminescence. In the very center of the gardens, where the ruins of an