Bone Island: Book of Danvers (Tales of Weeping Hollow, #2)

by Nicole Fiorina

She was born in the ocean, her heart a thrilling sea, tears of broken lovers, begging to be freed. With emeralds in her eyes, a sharp blade in her mind, she was of wicked beauty, for the lost boy was blind. She sang with such sweet sorrow, calling out to thee, dragging him into the deep, a cold kiss in starlit seas. The love made was forbidden, unlacing of melancholy beneath thrashing waters, as if they’d been set free. She craved an escape, he craved to be found, two silent hearts thirsty, until they both drowned.

The Panic started the day the Heathen, Julian Blackwell, broke the Curse of the Hollow Heathens. The same curse that kept their faces hidden generation after generation because if you saw what lay beneath, you’d only see your greatest fear, and your heart would stop. He almost killed Fallon and himself, too. Some say he pushed Fallon off the cliff, and she took him down with her. Others say he jumped in after her, but you and I know the Heathen would die for the moon girl. We were both there that day on the cliffs. At least I think I saw you there, but you look a bit different now. Have you cut your hair? Anyway, you know what they say about conspiracy theories. They’re only true if you believe them. And Julian broke the curse by bringing Fallon back to life, restarting this town with the moon’s heartbeat.

“It seems I’ve broken the curse trapped inside us and, in the process, let all our monsters out.”

“You have a fight within you, but a paper heart. This will be your downfall,” Mother said knowingly in English when it was only the two of us.

Be stone, not paper. It’s the only way you will survive in a world full of people who will only disappoint you.” I turned away from her.

The sea was a collector of things. It took things we cherished—most things we’d forgotten—and I still found myself drawn to her, unable to resist her call, needing to step into the graveyard of the lost, wild, and treasured.

There was pleasure in pain for someone like me—someone who was

a pretty shell holding in an ocean of rage. So, I closed my