The fire smoldered to ashes, the light of dawn filtered through the last clinging shadows of night, and the woman in the bed hadn't moved in hours. Tick, tock. The spirit hovered above the clock on the mantel and shimmered in anxious unease.

Tick, tock. The plan was at an excruciating stand still until his first companion laid hold of the vessel again. The vessel lay in wait beneath the swaying leaves of a tree. It should be in her hand, should be empowering him to ...