Possessed by the Fallen. Sharon Ashwood

out every oak and ash in his way.

      “Lark?” he called, straining to hear an answer.

      No sound came back to him. He plunged forward into the trees, the familiar, peaceful garden transformed by the grotesque light of the fire. Danger hung in the air, almost a scent of its own among the smoke and blood and trampled earth. He scanned the scene, alert to the slightest motion, but nothing was there. What if she found the source of the magic and it went horribly wrong?

      Eventually, unwillingly, he began to hunt among the low bushes for her fallen form. Success came just when Jack was fending off despair. No shadows could hide the familiar curve of Lark’s body as it lay on the ground.