The rain hit the shingle all at once, as though someone had opened a door in the sky.
Riley felt it sting her cheeks and run down the back of her collar. She had Andy by the hand, and Andrew was pressed against her other side with his fingers hooked into the belt of her coat. Nobody had told them to move. Nobody had needed to.
The loch was no longer flat. The black water rose in a low ridge a few yards out, folded back on itself, and rose again. Every ripple ran toward the shore, against the wind, as if something beneath the surface was pulling it.
Behind her, the fire hissed and died in a shower of sparks.
"Up to the house," Colin said. His voice was low and steady, the Highland burr sharpened into something she had never heard from him before. "Riley. Take the boys up the path. Now."
"Julie's got Nicole—"
"Julie's got her. Go."
