Whispers Of Fate: The Mistresses Of Fate, Book Two - Plot & Excerpts
New growth had started to fill in much of the open space that had once been the grounds and parking areas of the mill, and trees rose like phantoms among the old brick and concrete. Circe bent over and put her hands on her knees, breathing in and out in relief. She was cold, tired, hungry, and scratched from tree limbs and brambles. The faint light was enough to see the bright yellow crime scene tape that surrounded the crumbling collection of buildings where workers had once processed the trees harvested from nearby forests. Closed in the early seventies, it had been left to the woods, which was slowly, steadily taking back the land. Circe rubbed her arms to get warm. The spring air was slightly too cool, but that wasn’t why she shivered. She’d never liked it here, never liked the dark, watchful feel of the place. She sniffed, smelling pine, ragweed, and something she couldn’t quite place, something rotten. Clenching her teeth, she straightened. No, she’d never liked this place.
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