Free The Wicked and the Wondrous by Christine Feehan

crawl around in caves looking at strange rock formations, and she’s not afraid of taking apart a bomb when she’s needed. Unlike me.”
    “What do you mean?” Matt tightened his fingers around hers.
    “My sisters do incredible things and people expect it of us, but I wouldn’t want you to think I’m capable of climbing mountains or jumping out of planes because you’ve heard of all of their exploits.” She was feeling her way in the fog rather than following the glow stick. She lifted her face to the droplets of sea moisture, inhaling to try to catch the scent of something foul. “We have to cross the highway.”
    With the fog so thick there was virtually no traffic. Matt moved with her across the coastal highway and took the shortcut that led to the center of town. She was so serious all of a sudden, so distant from him, that he was actually beginning to believe she was on the trail of something evil. He could sense the stillness in her, the gathering of energy.
    The survival instincts he’d honed during his years as a Ranger kicked in. His skin prickled as he went onto alert status. Adrenaline surged, and his senses grew keener. He felt the need for complete silence and wondered if he was beginning to believe in supernatural nonsense. Matt eased the glow stick inside his jacket without activating it. The fog muffled the sound of Kate’s footsteps. He was aware of her breathing, of the eerie feel of the fog itself, of everything.
    By mutual consent they were silent as they walked along the street. He became aware of a slight noise. A puffing. It was distant and hushed, barely audible in the murky blanket of mist. Matt found himself straining to listen. There was a rhythm to the sound, reminding him of a bull drawing air in and out of its lungs hard before a charge. Breathing. Someone was breathing, and the sound was moving, changing directions each time they changed directions.
    Matt pressed his lips to her ear. “There’s someone in the fog with us.” He was certain someone was watching them, someone quite close.
    Kate tipped her head back. “Some thing, not someone.”
    Kate turned toward the residential area. The town looked strange shrouded in the gray-white fog. Heavily decorated for Christmas, the multicolored lights on the stores and office buildings, the houses and trees gave off the peculiar glow of a fire in the strange vapor, giving the town a disturbing infernal appearance rather than a festive one. Matt wished he had brought a weapon with him. He was a good hand-to-hand fighter because he was a big man, strong, with quick reflexes and extensive training, but he had no idea what kind of adversary they faced.
    Something hit him in the back, skittered down his jeans, and fell to the street. Matt whirled around to face the enemy and found nothing but fog.
    “What is it?” Kate asked. Her voice was steady, but her hand, on the small of his back, was shaking.
    Matt hunkered down to look at the object at his feet. “It’s a Christmas wreath, Kate. A damned Christmas wreath.” He looked around carefully, trying to penetrate the fog and see what was moving in it. He could feel the presence now, real, not imagined. He could hear the strange, labored breathing, but he couldn’t find the source.
    As he stood, a second object came hurtling out of the fog to hit him in the chest. He heard the smash of glass and knew immediately that the wreath had been decorated with glass ornaments. “Let’s get out of here, off the street at least,” he said.
    Kate was stubborn, shaking her head. “No, I have to face it here.”
    Matt pulled Kate to him, shielding her smaller body with his own as more wreaths came flying through the air, hurled with deadly accuracy at them from every direction. He wrapped his arms around her head, pressing her face against his chest. “It’s kids,” he muttered, brushing a kiss on top of her head to reassure her. “Always playing pranks; it’s dangerous in this fog, not to