Divine Rising (Moonlight Divine #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

SELENE

The powerful storm moved faster than predicted, setting me on edge. In response, the commuter train slowed as it curved along the edge of Dublin Bay, stealing precious time.

I stared out the window, watching the rainstorm as I traveled from work to home. The bay’s gray water flashed between the houses beyond the tracks as rain streaked the window in narrow diagonal lines. Not heavy yet. Just steady.

Normally, I didn’t complain about wet weather. It was a by-product of living in Ireland, and it kept everything lush and green.

This storm was a little different. The weather forecasters predicted heavy rain and possible power outages.

I wouldn’t escape its impact. And truthfully, it wasn’t just the deluge that bothered me.

My instincts warned something darker swirled in the air.

It could have been my imagination. Or something more.

I didn’t want to find out.

We’d passed through the wild weather earlier as we headed toward Dalkey station, but it wasn’t far behind us. If I moved quickly upon exiting, I might reach my flat before the worst of the storm hit.

Minutes later, the train eased into the station, and the moment it stopped, I hurried to disembark. The platform was nearly empty when I stepped out. The air smelled of wet stone and salt from the bay, and a darker wall of clouds pressed in from the west.

I pulled my coat closer and scurried through the small building before heading along the street toward home.

The rain thickened before I reached the first corner. Wind pushed it sideways across the pavement, and lightning flashed somewhere out over the bay. The thunder followed a few seconds later, rolling low across the rooftops.

Two blocks left to go. I put my head down and quickened my steps, hoping the gods would give me a few extra minutes before the downpour hit.

The wind remained steady until I turned the corner. Then the air changed direction as it raced through the tunnel created by buildings along the streets. The gust hit hard enough to plaster my coat against my legs.

I was almost home when something metallic rattled sharply overhead, and I raised my gaze to the construction scaffolding ahead of me. I slowed as I neared it, looking for the source of the noise.

The sound came again, louder this time, as the wind blasted me in the face.

A rectangular metal panel hung loosely from the scaffolding above and swung outward toward the street. Another large gust sent it flying. Straight toward me.

There was no time to move.

I lifted my hand instinctively, and I braced for impact.

The panel lurched in the air, and for a split second it seemed to hesitate.

Then the wind shifted again, and the sheet of metal slammed into the pavement just to my left with a violent clang.

I froze, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Disbelief flooded me as rain splattered onto the panel lying flat against the wet concrete. The scaffolding above shuddered once and settled. For a moment, the rain seemed to lose its sound.

Then the noise returned all at once as the wind brushed briskly past my cheeks.

I slowly lowered my hand as words spilled from me in a breathless whisper. “Right. That nearly killed me.”

An odd shiver fell over me as I left the piece of metal to weather the storm on its own. I strode forward, replaying the event, and glanced between the buildings on either side of me. The wind had shifted direction.

But that couldn’t be possible because it always tunneled down the streets. The trajectory had been wrong. The metal should have kept going.

It should have hit me.

The way my hand had shot up without conscious effort also bothered me. I looked at it for a moment as if it belonged to someone else. None of this should have been possible.

Then I scoffed. Of course, instincts didn’t require conscious thought. Adrenaline did strange things to perception. I’d read that somewhere. It was almost certainly true.

And the wind was blowing everything around in a crazy manner.

The rain running down my collar and into the sleeve of my coat urged me to move faster. As I ran, I counted my blessings that I hadn’t been hit. My aunt had always said I had ridiculous luck, and I couldn’t argue.

The storm finally arrived in full force just as I reached my street. Rain blurred the surrounding houses, and water rushed along the gutters in streams. By the time I reached my flat, I was soaked through.

I climbed the few steps and fumbled for my keys. As I slipped them into the lock, the door across the narrow walkway opened. Mrs. Geraghty leaned out, her gray hair wrapped in a scarf. Her gaze moved from my face to the dark sky behind me, and then back again.

She shook her head faintly as if admonishing me for some unknown thing I’d done. “Cailleach.”

I narrowed my gaze at the woman who’d been nothing but cold to me despite my attempts to befriend her. Whatever Gaelic word she’d used, it clearly hadn’t been affectionate. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Geraghty shut the door in my face, and I swore she hissed as she did. I gasped in disbelief and stepped inside as the storm released its fury over Dalkey. I glared at her door one last time before I closed mine.

I dropped my bag by the door and peeled off my soaked coat, hanging it in the bathroom over the shower rod to drip.

Thunder rumbled repeatedly while I put the kettle on next.

While it heated, I changed into dry clothes.

By the time I’d pulled on a thick sweater, the flat had already started to feel like itself again.

Small. Slightly impractical. Mine.

I’d lucked into it, honestly. Affordable flats in Dalkey were rare, and most of what fell within my budget had either faced the wrong direction or smelled faintly of someone else’s life.

This one had felt right the moment I stepped inside. It hadn’t been the décor or the way it had been stage. More it was settled, the way a room feels when nothing in it is fighting anything else.

The kettle clicked off. I made the tea and stood at the window with both hands around the mug, watching the storm rage over the rooftops. Tomorrow we’d finish the Harrington project, and then we’d actually celebrate instead of just threatening to.

Mrs. Geraghty’s light was still on across the walkway. I didn’t look at it for long. Cal-yuck. Or whatever she’d said. It hadn’t sounded friendly, but I was too tired to care.

I moved to the kitchen to find something resembling dinner and tuned out the rest.