The Apollo Fountain — Dorothy Daniels

Had she inherited her mother's power to predict-but not prevent-disaster?

Was this a dream, delirium -- or a dire forecast of death?

She saw herself dressed as a shepherdess, her flaxen hair piled high, waiting to meet a secret admirer. She stood at the foot of a staircase where two fountains splashed in the quiet of the night. Suddenly, from the garden's looming topiary shapes, a silken cord ringed her throat with death. The vision was so vivid, so real! And it lingered after her fever left her.

Then, one day, she rode down a winding road and saw the formal garden spread out before her, and the nightmare began to come true...