General
The moon sailed free of the shredded clouds and, as though drawn to its own likeness, flooded down onto Madeleine's hair, turning her golden curls into a gleaming beacon. She sat with Matthieu in a dinghy, her round, frightened face a pale moon on earth. Féolan was running before his mind had taken in what he had seen. Someone, somehow, had Dominic's children.
My mouth was open. I know that because when I did the face-plant into the bottom of the wave, I was gargling salt water, thinking that maybe I was about to die. The wave drove me deep into the water. I flapped my arms around, thinking that going back up to the surface was a good idea.
But it wasn't. At least not then.
I surfaced just in time to open my eyes and see my airborne surfboard eclipsing the morning sun. And aimed straight for my head. Wham.
