He nodded. It made sense and yet, like Sean himself, there was something more to his explanation than what he revealed.

"You handled those reporters very well," he said.

"I ran."

"And quite quickly," he added.

The charm, like the dimples, disconcerted her. It seemed natural enough, but every instinct she had told her it was a cover-up for what he was thinking. He'd seemed torn this morning at her kitchen table, and she'd had the sense that he didn't want to be there, though nothing in his words confirmed it.

"Where were you?" she asked. "When you saw me on TV, I mean."

"At Sulley's in Ballyfionuir. Having a pint."

"Yvonne's story aired in Ireland?" she said, the disbelief heavy in her tone.

"You're a suspicious one, aren't you now? Is it a third world country you're thinking I'm from? We get our shows piped just like you."

Piped? Did he mean cable?

"Would you like me to produce a receipt to prove my whereabouts?" he asked, misunderstanding her frown.

Danni's face grew hot again. "I'm not suspicious. It's just that in my experience things are rarely what they seem to be."

"And what does this seem to be?"

"Unbelievable, if you want the truth. I just happened to be on TV on the day you just happened to be somewhere to see it."

"Unbelievable things happen every day," he said, shaking his head. The bitterness was back. "That's how half the people I know end up married."

"That's also how 38 percent of them end up divorced," she countered.

"Well, let's just have responsible sex then and forget about marriage."

The words were said lightly. He'd meant to tease her and nothing more-she could tell by the look on his face. But somehow the humming awareness between them gave the flippant jibe a suggestiveness that made her stomach tighten. He caught her gaze with his own, and she felt like she was falling into the churning sea of his unusual eyes. The feeling made her giddy and scared all at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly, the low hum of his smoky voice brushing against her. "That was uncalled for. You've put me off with all the questions."

"You didn't expect me to have questions?" she managed.

"I don't know what I expected." His eyes had darkened to a mysterious green as they searched her face, lingering on her mouth in a touch she could almost feel. Almost taste. His elusive scent teased her senses and coaxed her to lean closer, breathe deeper. For the love of God, what was it about this man that made her so aware of him?

"You're adorable when you blush," he said.

His dark tone seemed to imply she was somehow to blame for this, but the look in his eyes said he didn't really mind. In a space of a heartbeat, the friction sparking between them caught and began to burn away any trace of common sense she might have possessed. She couldn't break the hold of his gaze. Couldn't help the ragged breath she drew in.

"Tell me again, how we're related," she said, her voice embarrass ingly husky and low.

Finally, Sean averted his eyes.

"It's too distant to trace," he said. "Truth be told, I'm not entirely certain what our relation is. Family lines are never straight, are they now? But in Ballyfionuir, everyone is family one way or another. It's said old Collum MacGrath was a randy fellow and the girls loved him very much. He probably spawned half the town."

"Oh," she said.

"Or did you mean, are we kissing cousins?"

The question brought her gaze to his mouth and then to the silvered green of his eyes. "Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?" she asked, shooting for edgy, hoping for insulted, hitting something husky and yearning.

"Perhaps."

"Why?"

"You look at me as if you know me," he said. "I've the strangest feeling you can read my mind, though I know it's not possible. Is it?"

"No," she answered, but that wasn't entirely true and they both knew it.

"I suppose I didn't expect this would be so personal. I thought you'd be happy when I told you about your father and you'd merely come along with me."

He hadn't expected their meeting to be so personal? The incongruity of that struck her on so many levels she couldn't begin to decipher which was the most troubling. With an incredulous laugh, she shook her head and started to say something, but the prickly sensation of being watched again stopped her. She glanced over her shoulder and found the two customers standing in the next aisle, staring at her. Simultaneous "busted" expressions crossed their faces before they quickly looked away. Beside them, their children giggled.

"Hush," one of the women snapped, pulling the boy closer in a protective way.

In the next instant they were bustling out the door.

"That was weird," Danni said, moving to do a quick inspection of where they'd stood. There was only large bulky furniture there. Nothing small enough to steal, but they'd certainly acted strangely.

Sean looked equally baffled but didn't comment. The bell over the door chimed once more and an older woman with a purse the size of a carry-on bag came in. She was a regular who had a penchant for tea sets. She smiled when she saw Danni and moved toward her.

"You're busy. I should go," Sean said. "What time will you be off?"

"Five."

He gave a quick nod and headed for the door. She called out before he reached it.

"Sean, I'll see you later?"

"Yes, you'll see me later."

He left just as the door opened again to admit a couple so engrossed in conversation that they nearly ran right into him. Danni stared after him for a long moment, unaware at first that the elderly lady with the big bag had stopped beside her and was speaking.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said no, I'm having dinner with my son and his wife tonight," the white-haired woman said with a happy smile.

"Okay . . . well that will be nice for you," Danni said. "Are you looking for anything particular today? We just got a vintage set of Shelley oleander cups and saucers. Would you like to see them?"

The shop stayed busy for the next hour and then finally a lag came. Danni knew she should be happy about the influx of business, but today she wished they'd head for the mall instead. With a deep breath, she made coffee and then returned to the counter and her computer.

The page on Ballyfionuir was still up, and she read it one more time before clicking the Back button to her original search. She continued to scan the links until one caught her eye halfway down the page. Ballyfionuir-Valley of the White Ghost. In the brief description below she caught words like ancient, mythical, and legend. The page opened to a panorama shot of an emerald green valley rimmed with slate gray rock, hemmed in by a frothing ocean and menacing sky. She recognized it, of course. Just this morning, she'd stood there in the vision with Sean.

She stared at the picture. She hadn't actually doubted that the place existed, but seeing it confirmed, framed by the reality of technology, made it somehow surreal, and disquiet shifted in the air around her. She looked up, scanning the still and silent store. In the back a grandfather clock ticked loudly. Beside it, another tocked on the offbeat. The effect was disconcerting.

Feeling skittish and jumpy, she returned her attention to her laptop but an instant later a sound coming from the back of the store had her on her feet. She moved down the aisle, passing mahogany cabinets and ornate side tables, crystal lamps and collectables from before the French Revolution. The sound came again, this time louder. Footsteps?

"Yvonne?" she called, even though she knew it couldn't be. The back door was set with a fire alarm that went off if opened. They only disabled it when there was a delivery and it could only be unlocked from the inside. Yvonne would have had to come through the front door, and even though she was engrossed in her computer, Danni would have heard the bell chime.

Again, the strange shuffling sound came. This time clearer, this time louder. Not footsteps but . . . something more fierce. Waves, crashing against a beach. Now it seemed to come from all around her.

Danni frowned, turning in a small circle, watching with growing horror as everything began to fade-the massive chests, the towering wardrobes. Tables and lamps, chairs and settees-it was as if they were thinning, becoming impossibly translucent. Danni swallowed the tickle of fear at the back of her throat, tried to pretend her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the air filled with pressure and she knew what was coming. Just as she knew that whatever was waiting beyond the crowded store wouldn't be good. She could feel it in the weight and burden of each breath.

As if released by her acknowledgment, the room wavered and the air tried to turn. Danni fought it with everything she had. She could see images moving beyond the room, but she tried not to look, afraid now that her attention would give those shapes substance.

She backed away, hurrying to the counter, watching her feet and not the pulsing transparency following her every step of the way. She reached the stool, gripping it to assure herself it was solid just as a frigid gust seeped across the floor, bringing with it the smell of brine and the damp of fog. She heard a sputtering sound, like a candle flame fighting a drizzle of moisture. The bright sun went behind a cloud, though Danni knew the sky outside was clear and blue. Overhead, the lights buzzed, became blinding for an instant before they went out. A small sound escaped Danni's lips as slowly she lifted her head.

The air turned with a sudden, plunging hiss. Danni couldn't move as she waited for the vision of Sean to appear beside her, unnerved by the anticipation that danced over her skin even as fear nipped down her spine. But he didn't come. Alone in the swaying world, Danni fought to breathe. Where was he? And when had she begun to feel safe by his side?

The shop vanished completely, leaving her standing graveside in the exact place she'd stood with Sean that morning. Only this time she was by herself, abandoned even by her own hallucination.

She looked around with wide eyes, taking in the harsh and rocky wall that tumbled down to the ocean, the bed of sweet grass beneath her feet, the unending horizon. It was the same sweeping view she'd seen on the website just moments ago.

Valley of the White Ghost.

In the distance, she saw a strange monument of some sort. Three enormous boulders held a fourth on top, like soldiers carting their wounded on their shoulders. Something gold glinted from their surface, but she was too far away to see what it was.

Lightning snaked from the bruised sky and the air took on the scent of sulfur. The powerful tide crashing against the rocks made the ground beneath her feet tremble. Rain pelted her face in cold splashes.

She looked down, blinking as the drops came faster and the cold reached her bones. The grave was filled in now, the dirt rusted red, an angry welt in the green pasture. Warring emotions fought inside her. She was glad the grave no longer gaped, no longer revealed the twisted bodies at the bottom, but a part of her wanted to drop down and claw at it, dig until she could see again her own face and that of the teenaged boy lying beneath.

In the distance, a flock of sheep bleated and grazed, moving like the clouds, obeying a directive that she couldn't see. Then suddenly one of the fluffy white animals stood on its hind legs and stared back. As she watched, the air around it shimmied with a silvery current that crackled and sparked. Danni tried to back up, but her legs felt wooden, nailed to the spongy ground beneath her feet.

"I want out," she said aloud. "I want out. Now."

But she had no guide this time. No one to grant her wish. The landscape before her didn't fade, didn't falter. And whatever world she'd entered held steadfast. She clenched her eyes, silently praying for escape, willing herself back home.

She felt a shift in the air that was at once alien and familiar. Slowly, with dread pulling her lower than the sinking earth, she opened her eyes.

A woman stood before her. Dressed in white from head to toe, she had silvery hair draped over her shoulder and down past her knees. It rippled and twisted in the wind. With a cold smile she pulled a sterling comb from her flowing white gown and ran it through her hair, all the while watching Danni with pale and narrowed eyes. Each stroke of the silver comb made her hair sparkle like tinsel. She paused then and held out the comb.

Danni stared at it, saw strange concentric engravings on its rim that teased the eye and exacerbated her fear until it threatened to swallow her whole. She was shaking her head, now muttering the chant "I want to go home" even as her hand lifted and the desire to take the comb brought her fingers closer. A luminescence gleamed from the white woman and the comb seemed to shudder from a power within. It lured Danni, taunted her to touch it.

Then suddenly the woman lifted her face to the hostile sky and keened, her voice a weapon that crashed with the tide in a rush of churning chaos.

Danni clamped her hands over her ears and screamed to block out the horrible sound, but the white woman wailed louder and harsher. The milling sheep stopped and turned toward the biting sound. Even the wind ceased to compete.

Danni fell to her knees in surrender. The mud from the grave seeped through her pants and sucked her deeper, becoming a quick-sand that wanted to gobble her up. With the death of her resistance, the keening stopped and silence rang loud in her ears. She realized with horror that her legs were deep in the grave.

A pair of shoes stepped into sight, and like a lifeline, Danni focused on them, traveled up from them to slender legs and a wrap-around skirt. She paused, recognizing the pattern and the fabric even as her mind rejected the possibility. And then she was looking into a face she knew too well because it represented every childhood fantasy.

"Momma?" Danni whispered.

And it was her mother, standing there beside her, wearing the same skirt and blouse she'd been wearing in the picture Sean had given Danni. Effortlessly, her mother pulled her from the sucking mud of the grave. Danni felt the brush of her fingers, the warmth of flesh that didn't really exist.

Taking her hand, Danni's mother led her from the grave, through a bright green door that seemed to appear from nowhere and into a crowded room packed with furniture and knickknacks. Danni looked around, one strange and distant part of her noting the amazing trelliswork on a side table she passed, the sparkle of the crystal lamps pooling light against a pair of aged leather chairs. Massive paintings crowded every inch of wall space.

She moved to a pine coffer beside the window. Hundreds of years ago, the antique chest would have held the family's treasures. Danni dreaded knowing what it held now.

Her mother used a key dangling from a chain to unlock it. She opened the lid and removed a large, canvas-wrapped parcel. It looked heavy, but she handled it like it was made of the finest glass. She set it down on the side table and began to gently remove the covering. Danni's mouth was dry, her heart pounding. She didn't know what was at the core of that bundle, but the cautious way her mother handled it made her afraid. Danni was shaking her head, wanting to stop her mother even as she finished and quickly stepped aside. Confused, Danni stared at the object she'd revealed.

It was a book. She let out a shaky breath. She'd expected something worse, something threatening.

Not knowing what her mother wanted, Danni crept closer. The book was bulky and irregular-not quite squared at the corners-easily the size of a seat cushion. Its black cover was made of leather, beveled with concentric spirals, like the comb the woman in white had held out. Jewel-encrusted gold and hammered silver twisted and twined around the edges and corners. A trio of circular lines connected in a mysterious lock fixed over the jagged edges of thick creamy paper. There were more symbols-like letters, but not any she'd ever seen before-set in a row across the front of the cover. She reached out to touch them, but her mother grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Slowly she shook her head.

Fingers curled into her palm, Danni let her hand drop down to her side. By degrees she became aware of a low hum trembling in the air. It pulled at the pit of her stomach and jarred her already stretched nerves. She felt hot and clammy, and she wanted nothing more than to back away, because suddenly she didn't want to touch the book anymore. Suddenly she wanted away from it.

The humming became a drone that throbbed and pulsated all around her. Too low to be heard, too insistent to be ignored. It rose from the floor, dropped from the ceiling, pushed and shoved from the walls until Danni thought it would crush her down like an aluminum can. A heat began to glow in her mind, a fiery coal that flared in response. Eyes clenched tight, Danni tried to force it back, pictured herself as a fist, opening against resistance, expanding and extending until she'd created a space within the confines and she could breathe again. She didn't know how or even what she'd done, but the pressure had eased.

She opened her eyes. Her mother stood stiffly to her left, white-faced and rigid, her gaze fixed with an emotion Danni couldn't decipher. There was fear and there was anticipation, and both were directed at Danni.

As if on cue, they turned their attention back to the black book sitting like a fat spider on the table. Danni glared at it, wanting it gone, wanting nothing more than to see it thrown into the blazing fire and turned to ash. On some level she didn't understand, she knew the book was responsible for the sick feeling in her gut.

Without warning, the three interlocking circles burst apart and the cover flew open, fanning sheaths of thick paper in a blurred arc. Both Danni and her mother gasped and stumbled back.

A dark and fecund odor filled the room, filled Danni. She tried to turn away from it, tried to take another step back, but now she couldn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the whirring pages, her mind enthralled by the creamy blur of their movement. What was this book?

The pages stopped, leaving the book opened in the middle, spread like something vulgar, something unnatural. She was shaking her head even as the first drop of red seeped from the binding to the polished surface of the table. Like honey, thick and sticky, it inched to the edge and then dripped over the side, following the intricate maze of the trellis before spilling to the floor.

Once again, the air became too heavy to breathe. Ripping her horrified gaze from the dripping wetness, Danni gave a surging mental push against the weight bearing down on her, gaining just a small space this time.

The red pool grew, bubbling up from the open spine and spreading out. It was blood, she thought. The tabletop was covered and now the liquid poured over the edge, faster and faster, spilling to the floor in a crimson tide. In moments it would be at her feet, and then it would touch her like the sticky tendrils of an inescapable nightmare. She wanted to scream. She needed to scream.

The pressure continued to build. Around her-inside her. It pressed against her ears, bore down on her heart, on her empty lungs, on her thoughts. She was past the point of distinguishing between reality and vision. This was happening and she couldn't stop it. This time, there was no way out.

Blackness clouded her sight, and she knew if she didn't breathe soon she was going to faint, right here, right now. And if she succumbed there would be nothing to keep that ooze from covering her feet, her legs, pouring into her mouth, her mind.

Danni took a deep, gasping breath.

Like a trigger, the sound of it shot across the room. The pages of the book began to fan again, furiously thrumming backward, forward, creating a noxious wind that lifted her hair and stung her cheeks.

Danni did the only thing she could. She loosed the scream trapped beneath her fear and hurled it across the room. She felt it ripping, tearing, shredding the invisible wall around the terrible book and then it broke free.

The book slammed shut with a bang that resounded, and the spiraled knots of the lock seemed to rush forward and join, mating with crude and sinister glee before it caught with a metallic grind.

Before she could take a second breath the book vanished, then the table, then the room. She was standing in the pouring rain with her mother again, and the air was pure and sweet. She gulped it in, staring at her mother as shock or cold or both wracked her body.

"What was it? I don't understand what it was," she tried to say.

But the words were garbled, swallowed by the enormity of her fear. A look of agony pulled her mother's features and she began to fade. "No," Danni cried.

But in an instant she was gone.