The orange sun burst between two buildings, blinding Joe for a second. He shaded his eyes and looked around. The detainee tower was straight ahead, just to the right of the setting sun. If he stayed reasonably clear of it he’d be able to avoid the Masevo, he hoped, and if he kept it in his sightline he wouldn’t get lost. Emma was somewhere in the city. He was sure of it. And he was sure the vision in the water meant he had to reunite her with her family, wherever they were. He just had to find the tunnel and Emma before the Masevo.
Joe’s clothes and shoes had dried in the wind and his jeans had shrunk until they were uncomfortably tight. The air was getting cooler as the sun sank lower. He wished he had a jacket.
The outskirts of the city were dotted with small houses fronted by little walled gardens. The architecture was a strangely appealing mix of modern and medieval, as if Frank Gehry had designed house-sized castles made of steel and stone. A few gardens had flowering vines that climbed over white walls. Joe heard laughing. He saw a few winged kids flying and playing above their yards…
About the Author
An occasional travel writer, Mary Beth has written about Paris, Bordeaux, and Yorkshire, where she hiked the moors to the legendary setting for WUTHERING HEIGHTS and stood breathless in the parsonage room where Charlotte, Anne, and Emily Bronte talked out their stories with each other.And if I seem a little strange, well that’s because I am. Also loves octopuses.
Dawn, Taken at Dusk, Whispers at Moonrise, and Chosen at Nightfall (US)
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