Red Summer: And So It Begins.

Seventeen year old Wilder Ansley is being followed. By who? He hasn’t got a clue. By people and creatures no one else can see. That’s a good enough place to start.

To make matters worse, he’s also able to do things that make no sense at all — like unintentionally setting fire to his foster brother's bed. Without the help of a lighter or matches.

Wilder prides himself that recently, aside from a few unfortunate incidents, he’s been able to keep whatever happens when he loses his cool mostly under control. That is until a freak lightning storm alerts the mysterious New Orleans Council to his whereabouts.

And his burgeoning abilities. 

Within hours, Wilder is thrown headfirst into a whole new world, hidden behind a Shroud, and it feels more like home than he cares to admit. Despite his initial hesitations, Wilder finds friendship, and maybe something more, among these new strangers. But it turns out uncovering his place in the Eadar might be harder than he thought. Wilder must force himself to face the truth about who everyone else believes him to be—all while a decades long war escalates within and beyond the Shroud, threatening not only the Eadar and his new found friends, but the human world he’s left behind. 

The first book of the Stone and Scale Series, Red Summer, began in the summer of 2022, when I realized it was time to stop doubting myself and my abilities, and to just give myself, and this story, the chance. Three years, and a whole lot of life later, my very first novel is ready to see the light of day.

It's my honor to share the start of Wilder's journey with you.

Curious to check out Red Summer for yourself? Read the exclusive first three chapters below. For more exclusive chapter revealings, book promotions, book launch info, and all things Wilder, remember to subscribe to my monthly newsletter below.

Chapter 1-3

Wilder still had no idea how the fire had started.

Sitting alone in the Child Protective Services office, Wilder wrung his hands, his foot beating an unsteady, anxious rhythm into the ground. The door opened, and a short woman garbed in a red suit entered, heels tapping across the floor as she moved to her desk. Susannah’s brown eyes remained fixed on the pages within a thick green file in her hands, the name ‘Wilder Ansley’ printed in sharp, black lettering across the front.

“Would you like to explain what happened?” Susannah asked, sweeping her dark hair behind her shoulder. Her stern voice did little to hide her annoyance, her brows rising over bronzed cheeks and a pretty oval face. Taking a seat in the chair across from him, Susannah dropped the folder with a muffled thump onto the desk.

She was the seventh social worker that had been assigned to Wilder over the last seventeen years of his life. Or was it the eighth? He had lost track a long time ago. Out of all of them, though, he had liked her the most. She actually seemed to care.

“What story should I tell you this time, Susannah?” Wilder leaned back in his seat, the cold leather biting the skin on his arms as he shoved his soot-stained hands into his jacket pockets, hiding the evidence of the last few hours. Silk met his fingertips, its touch his only consolation. “The truth or the same story Bernard and Emily told you?”

Susannah leaned back in her own chair and crossed her arms over her suit jacket. She shook her head. “Unfortunately, Wilder, I have no reason to believe the two aren’t the same.”

“Of course you don’t.” Wilder’s hands clenched around the fabric in his pocket. But Wilder knew she was right. Nothing he could say, not even the truth, could adequately explain away what had happened. Not this time.

And the truth was—well, Wilder didn’t know what the truth was.

He had just gotten home from a tough day at school when he found his foster brother, Kyle, rifling through his bag. The bag had held what little Wilder owned, including the red and gold swaddling blanket Wilder had been found in as a baby—his only connection to a family he knew in his gut had once wanted him.

“What’re you doing?” Wilder had asked Kyle, panic setting in as he rushed forward and snatched the bag out of his hands.

“Nothing.” Kyle smirked. Leaning across his bed, he stuffed something under his pillow before running his fingers through his too long, mousy brown hair. Only a year younger than Wilder, though a head taller, Kyle had a rap sheet a mile long, and theft was top of that list.

Wilder’s blood began to boil.

He knew he could probably take him, but he also knew better than to try. Wilder usually had a handle on his reactions to most things, having learned a long time ago to shove them down—to muffle them until he couldn’t feel them at all. It was the only way to avoid situations like this. Situations he knew would lead to unexplainable problems and unanswerable questions.

But this time, Wilder wasn’t quick enough.

“Give it back,” he seethed, each word a threatening promise Wilder, and Kyle, knew he’d never keep. Another rush of rage surged through his veins. His eyes narrowed on Kyle’s obnoxious grin back at him.

“And if I don’t?”

Wilder tried to tamp down his roiling anger, to douse it with the numbness he knew so well. But when he blinked, the corner of the room was on fire. Hot orange flames engulfed Kyle’s fourposter bed and smoke billowed in dark gray plumes through the open windows. All Wilder could hear were Kyle’s shrieks as he tried to escape the blaze, and his own voice screaming “No!” as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Everything was a chaotic blur.

Rage flipped to panic. Sprinting forward, Wilder seized Kyle from the fire, the red silk still clutched in his hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wilder hurled him from the burning bed. But then a loud crack echoed through the space, and Wilder’s heart stopped. Kyle’s head had smacked the wall more forcibly than should have been possible, and he crumpled to the ground, his still body a barely visible heap in the smoky room.

Shit. Shit…

Wilder’s whole body trembled as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

It was just adrenaline. That’s all it could have been…

As the flames spread, Wilder careened out of the room, returning a heartbeat later with the fire extinguisher from down the hall. He sprayed the flames until they quieted, a white dust settling over the charred sheets like fresh snow, the muted sizzle of burning fabric clinging to the air. Somehow, he had contained the bulk of the damage to just the bed. But Kyle was another matter entirely.

Dropping the extinguisher, Wilder didn’t take a moment to consider whether his own hands had been burned as he knelt beside Kyle’s unmoving body, pressing his fingers to his neck.

Please don’t be dead. Please.

A steady thrum pulsed at Wilder’s blackened fingertips, the subtle lift and fall of life moving across Kyle’s chest. Wilder heaved a sigh when he heard Kyle grumble. As his foster brother stirred, Wilder ripped the red cloth from his hand, stuffing it into his pocket.

The insistent click of nails across a keyboard shook Wilder from the memory.

“Listen, I swear Susannah, it was an accident,” Wilder said. “The police searched me. I didn’t have any matches or lighters. There’s no way I could have done this. You know I never…” Wilder swallowed, his voice caught on the lump in his throat. He looked at her, pleading. She knew him better than this. “I promise. It was an electrical fire or something. It had to have been. Just let me talk to Bernard and Emily. I’ll clear it all up—”

“They won’t have you back, Wil,” Susannah said, her voice firm, folding her hands on her desk. Letting out a sigh, her gaze on him softened. “Kyle’s in the hospital with a broken collarbone and a serious concussion. You’re lucky they’re not pressing charges for arson or assault. But you’re being moved to a new placement, and a temporary one at that.”

Wilder’s mouth fell open, the blood draining from his face. This can’t be happening. He was so close. He only had a year left before he was out from under the thumb of the state, and it couldn’t happen quickly enough.

Before Susannah could see his reaction, he closed his mouth, gritting his teeth. “What do you mean, temporary?”

Susannah sighed again. “You’re wait-listed for a live-in correctional school on the north side of town. There’s a spot opening up there at the end of next month. Until then, you’ll be with a new family. They have experience with situations like this.” Pausing, she studied him. “I really think you’ll like them, Wil.”

Wilder scowled. She was always sugarcoating things. ‘Live-in correctional school’. It didn’t matter what they wanted to call it. They were sending him to boot camp. Locking him away.

“Hardly matters what I think about them, doesn’t it?” He stood from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll be saying goodbye soon enough.” ***

Three days later, Wilder slinked through the wide halls of Prescott High, shouldering past the press of bodies as his classmates bustled to row after row of bright blue lockers, keeping his eyes on his boots.

Over the weekend, he had been unceremoniously removed from one placement to yet another, his belongings gathered into trash bags and delivered to him at his new residence. At least he’d be staying in New Orleans. There were rules about that within the agency; about the importance of keeping the kids as close to ‘home’ as possible. But Wilder always worried one day he’d mess up so unforgivably, they’d make him leave the city altogether.

Wilder braved a glance up. He used to make it through most days without drawing much attention to himself. He could usually fade into the circus that was senior year, invisible in the sea of perpetual noise and motion. But word about Kyle had gotten around, and suddenly, it felt like everyone knew who he was. And what he had done. Pulling his black cap down over his unruly mane of red hair, Wilder fixed his gaze back on the ground, avoiding the curious stares following him.

A shoulder bumped into his. “Never pinned you for an arsonist, Ansley,” said a familiar voice, and relief flooded Wilder.

He peered over to find Evan, his closest, and really only friend, striding next to him. His mousy face was pulled into a huge grin, lighting his powder blue eyes.

“Me neither,” Wilder grumbled, not sharing in his amusement. Evan never took anything too seriously, but that’s what Wilder liked most about him. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Evan’s usual lazy smile faltered, and he looked at him with a level of understanding few people in Wilder’s life ever gave him. He’d miss that.

“You didn’t mean for it to happen, did you?” Evan asked.

“What do you think?” Wilder returned, his voice bitter as he pulled his locker door open.

Nodding, Evan glanced down at the ground, inspecting his sneakers. “What’s the damage this time, then?” he asked, his stringy blond hair falling over his forehead.

“New placement,” Wilder said, looking for his homework in the mess of paper he had shoved into his backpack earlier that morning. He paused, considering. “And they’re sending me to a correctional school next month.”

Evan peered back up at him and sighed. “Final straw, huh?”

“Guess so.” Wilder trained his voice to sound bored, but he could feel his throat tightening.

Putting his hands in his pockets, Evan leaned against the lockers next to him. “Well, now’s as good a time as any to tell you the news.”

Wilder stopped shuffling through his backpack and turned to look at his friend. “Don’t be shy. Get it out.”

“Sounds like we’re both out of here,” Evan said, smirking, but Wilder could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Dad got new orders overseas. Somewhere near Greece. We’re leaving next month.”

Wilder’s stomach dropped. It shouldn’t have mattered where Evan ended up, especially since Wilder was leaving, too. But for some reason, it did.

Before Wilder could respond, a petite girl with chestnut hair sidled up to the locker next to them. Wilder glanced over long enough to realize she was new, and from the way she struggled with the latch, apparently new to lockers as well. The two watched her for a moment, suppressing their laughter before Wilder finally took pity on her.

“Press the door in and shove up,” Wilder told her, his voice gruff as he dropped the last book into his backpack.

The girl turned to glare at him, the look on her tawny face suggesting she didn’t need his help. “I know how to use—”. But as her bright green eyes, striking over a set of high cheekbones, caught his, they widened in surprise. She sucked in a breath.

Wilder’s stomach dropped again, but this time for a completely different reason he couldn’t figure out. He ignored it. Lifting a single eyebrow, he waited for her to finish whatever she meant to say, but she turned away without another word. Instead, she shoved up hard on her locker and the door swung open.

“Thanks,” he heard the girl say, her voice muffled by the thin strip of steel between them. She grabbed a single book from her backpack, dropped it in the locker and pressed it shut again. Turning back to him, she scanned his features for a moment too long, studying his red hair and stormy gray eyes, as if searching for something. Wilder recoiled at the inspection.

The girl cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m Terra,” she finally said, smiling and holding out a small hand. “I just moved here.”

Wilder wondered if this girl had any idea who she was talking to. She probably hadn’t been here long enough to figure it out.

“Clearly,” Wilder said, disregarding her hand as the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. He had meant for the response to sound more sarcastic, but her genuine friendliness had caught him off-guard. As he turned away, her stare continued to search his, narrowing on his hair and eyes.

A bell clanged through the loudspeakers, and all three of them started as the sound reverberated through the hall.

Wilder snapped his locker shut without a second look back at the girl. “Good luck finding your classes.” He turned to Evan, who was still leaning against his locker, watching the interaction with an amused expression, a single blond eyebrow raised as his gaze flashed between Wilder and the girl.

Wilder gave him his usual ‘Don’t even think about it’ look. “We’ll chat later,” he told him.

Shrugging, Evan threw him a wink. Wilder ignored it, turning on his heel and stalking away.

He hated being dismissive, but Wilder figured he was doing the girl a favor. Being friends with Evan was one thing. The guy had basically forced his friendship on him when Evan had moved here two years ago. Since then, Evan had proven he could handle the weirdness that came along with Wilder’s friendship, even if Evan could never understand it.

But this girl. She clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that the arsonist foster kid was bad news—and best avoided.

Most of the day passed without incident—other than the continued stares that followed Wilder from class to class. After lunch, Evan left school for an appointment, leaving Wilder on his own.

He shuffled into the art room, angling for the two-seated table furthest from the front. Dropping his backpack on the floor, he stooped to grab his art supplies as the rest of the class meandered into the room. To his left, Wilder heard the unexpected sound of another bag dropping onto his table.

Wilder peered up. Yet again, a blindsiding set of emerald green irises met his.

Damn it.

The way this girl looked at him—seemed to watch him—was unnerving. As she sat down, Wilder tensed, his blood pricking at her proximity, the tiny hairs on his arms standing on end. Cracking his neck and readjusting his shoulders, Wilder tried to shake off whatever reaction he was having to her. Maybe he was coming down with something.

Wilder finished fishing his supplies from his bag, straightened in his seat, and stared forward. The girl did the same. But out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was watching him out of hers. Like she was waiting for something.

The way the animals that had followed him his entire life always seemed to be waiting for something. The ones he knew no one else could see.

Wilder blinked, fixing his attention back toward the whiteboard and pretended she wasn’t there — all while bitterly priding himself at how good he had gotten at pretending such things. No one knew about the hallucinations; the animals, or the people in the trees. Not anymore.

“Morning, class,” Mrs. Tumnus said from the front of the room, beginning their lesson.

As one of his classmates raised their hand, Wilder flipped through his sketchbook to find the next blank page.

“Interesting drawings,” Terra said, her voice so low only he could hear. Her gaze flashed across Wilder’s charcoal depictions of dragons, wolves, and trees with faces.

“What’s it to you?” he whispered, snapping the book to an untouched page.

The girl’s eyes narrowed in confusion, a light blush rising to her cheeks. “I’m just making conversation.”

But Wilder couldn’t shake the feeling her curiosity went beyond a general, friendly interest. “Well, don’t. I won’t be here long enough for it to matter.”

Terra cocked her head, the sun from the window behind Wilder highlighting the bronze undertones of her skin. Her stare was intense—calculating. “What do you mean, you won’t be here long enough?” If Wilder hadn’t known better, he could have sworn there was a pointed searching to her question. Geez, couldn’t this girl catch a hint?

“Listen,” Wilder said. “I get it. You’re new. You’re trying to make friends. But don’t waste that energy on me. I’m getting shipped off to boarding school next month. Why don’t you join the French club or something? You seem nice enough. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of friends somewhere else.”

“Well, with that attitude, sounds like you won’t have any trouble finding many either.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair, her attention settling on the slideshow Mrs. Tumnus was flipping through.

Taken aback, the corners of Wilder’s mouth lifted into a slight smile. His gaze trailed the lines of the girl’s heart-shaped face and the annoyance marking her features, and he almost felt sorry he’d be leaving. With her candor, charm, and quick wit, this girl would have no trouble collecting friends as quickly as he repelled them. If she hadn’t been so damn insistent…Nope. No. He wouldn’t go there.

Terra didn’t say another word to him as they moved into their lesson. But Wilder continued to watch her. Now entirely consumed with their project, the whole of her attention remained focused on the precise shading of her drawing of a library. In the corner of the piece, a giant stone geode stood among the bookshelves. There was something mesmerizing about the intensity with which she worked to get the play of lights and shadows just right.

It felt like time had barely passed when the bell rang for the end of the school day. Without another word or a second glance back at the girl, Wilder shoved from his chair. After depositing his books in his locker, he rushed out the front door. To his dismay, Terra had somehow beaten him outside. She sat on the concrete staircase, her head bent over a textbook Wilder was fairly certain they weren’t using in any of their classes. He forced his attention back to the path in front of him, but not quickly enough.

Out of nowhere, an oddly large mouse scampered across his feet. Wilder tripped, stumbling backward. Righting himself, his gaze trailed the path of the culprit. On the mouse’s back, a tiny knight with translucent gold wings, outfitted in full body armor, sat holding a set of reins. Every centimeter of the armor’s brushed metal appeared detailed with alarming precision in fine silver filigree.

Wilder’s eyes shot up, scanning the crowd milling about the lawn. No one else had seen what he had. Of course they hadn’t. They never did. Wilder spun in the opposite direction of wherever his hallucinations had wandered off to. He knew better than to acknowledge them. It only ever led to uncomfortable questions he didn’t want to answer, and assumptions he didn’t want to deal with.

Thank goodness these didn’t stick around long enough to follow him home. Wilder often saw them together, the animals and the tiny people in the trees, like they were partnering to unnerve him. But unnerving felt like an understatement.

As Wilder turned to leave, set on pushing the whole ordeal out of his mind, he locked eyes with the last person he wanted to see at that moment. The shock on Wilder’s face must have been plain enough, because Terra had forgotten all about the history book laying open in her lap, once again focusing on him. Wilder figured she was wondering what on earth could possibly be wrong with him. He didn’t blame her. He wondered that about himself every damn day.

Glowering at her, Wilder stalked away, ignoring her gaze as she watched him go.

Who reads history books for fun, anyway?

***

The late February sun shone high above the Carrollton district, warming Wilder as he strode along another row of historic New Orleans homes after school. Pausing at an intersection, he waited for a car to pass, trying to put the past few hours, and the past few days, behind him.

Getting lost in this multifaceted city, with its high-spirited and eclectic vivacity, was his favorite distraction. This city was the only part of his life he could wholly rely on. It couldn’t move away or choose to leave him. It was home—whatever that might be worth.

Wilder usually spent these walks imagining a life on the other side of the ivy-covered columns, wrought-iron fencing, and heavy oak doors, surrounded by a family of his own. A family that bickered and ate chocolate-chip cookies on Tuesdays after school. A mother that made him chamomile tea when the kids at school made fun of him. An understanding father that, despite the crazy situations Wilder got himself into, would reassure him all would turn out fine, reminiscing about that one time when he was his own age.

He imagined what it would be like to have a sister—one that would annoy him to the ends of the earth and refuse to leave him alone, but he’d adore her anyway. Though no, she still couldn’t go in his room.

He imagined a family that would never give up on him.

The distant improbability of all of it was something Wilder had come to terms with, just like the truth about life in general. People left. That’s just the way things were. Evan leaving, Wilder leaving—it was all a stark reminder of that truth. No one sticks around forever. Wilder had grown used to it, though the thought didn’t blunt his disappointment. It was his seventeenth birthday, after all.

Picking up a fallen leaf from the sidewalk, crisped by the cold, he held it by its stem. “Happy birthday,” Wilder said to himself. Blowing the leaf from his fingertips like a candle on a cake, it garnered passage on a fleeting breeze. As he watched it go, Wilder caught sight of a snowy white barn owl sitting atop a fountain in the courtyard next to him. The yard’s countless magnolias flaunted their creamy whites and pale pinks in the new spring sun. As the owl stared at Wilder, Wilder scrutinized it. He could always tell the difference between normal animals and the ones that turned out to be hallucinations—the latter always acted weirder. More aware.

The bird cocked its head and hooted, the sound piercing the silence between them, as if intrigued by their interaction. Its beady black eyes never left Wilder. Stiffening, he took a measured step back and crept away. As the bird watched him leave, he wondered once again if he was just a little bit crazy.

Twenty minutes later, Wilder ambled up the grassy knolls of City Park, a steaming paper cup of black Cafe Du Monde coffee warming his palms. Ahead, he noticed a tiny old woman sitting alone at a stone table inlaid with a chessboard, moving the black and white marble pieces from square to square, playing both sides of the game.

Whenever Wilder came by the park after school, which was more often than not, he would join the various old-timers playing chess or checkers among the swooping oaks. Listening to their stories, he’d find himself grateful for the moments they gave him, treating him like a fellow human being. He had his favorites. There was Mark, who grew African violets on every windowsill in his home. Rebecca, who ran a bookstore two blocks away.  Whenever he went in, the whole place teemed with every breed of dog and cat—each ready to curl up into the lap of whichever unsuspecting reader took a seat in the plush chairs littering the store. And there was Michael, who never shared much about his own life, but always seemed interested in Wilder’s. This woman, however, wasn’t one of the regulars.

Wilder glanced around, but nobody was joining the old woman. Striding into the chess plaza, he took a seat at her table, putting his paper cup down on the edge.

“Oh good. You’ve made it,” the woman said, collecting the pieces into lines along the sides as she finished her game. Her wiry gray hair flared in wild curls around her head like a massive halo, and the thinnest of wrinkles collected at her eyes and lips.

Wilder lifted his brow and smirked, dropping his bag onto the ground. Nothing about this woman was familiar, but he played along. “Um, yeah, sorry I’m late. I’m Wilder. Nice to meet you…” He left the words open for her to introduce herself.

“Who you think you are is trivial, boy. As is your timing,” the woman said, her tone abrupt. She never met his gaze. “It’ll all happen as it’s meant to. Now, what’ll it be? Light or dark?”

“What?” he asked, before realizing she meant the chess pieces. “Oh, white is fine.”

The woman smiled, still moving the pieces, seeming pleased by his answer. She gave him a quick nod, and he helped her reposition the pieces back onto the board. The woman didn’t say another word as they played, the silence between them interrupted only by marble tapping across tile and the gentle rush of a fountain in the center of the lake beside them. Now and then, Wilder caught the woman smirking whenever he struggled to make a move, though she always seemed to know her next one. Her tenacity never faltered, and Wilder’s eyes grew wider and wider as, piece by piece, his army fell to hers.

Just as she took another of his bishops, putting his king into check, Wilder noticed a fox and a squirrel at the edge of the wood, watching their game. Wilder blinked, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him, hoping they were just normal animals that would scurry away the moment they were noticed.

The fox and the squirrel met his stare, but didn’t move.

Pausing her assault to follow his perturbed gaze, the woman huffed. “Never minding their own business,” the woman said, pursing her lips. “Bunch of busybodies, if you ask me.”

Wilder’s stare flashed to her. “You can see them?” he asked, heat flushing his cheeks. His whole head felt warm, and a loud buzzing filled his ears. No one had ever been able to see them before, and Wilder had learned the hard way to never bring it up.

“Of course I can. I’m not blind like the rest of these fools,” the woman said, waving her arm toward a couple pushing a stroller down the path. They remained entirely unaware of the creatures standing just feet away.

Jaw dropping, Wilder’s mouth suddenly felt dry. The woman lifted her knight and knocked down his king. “Checkmate, deary. I say, they said you’d be better at this.”

“I’m sorry, who said what?” Wilder shook his head. It was starting to spin uncomfortably. He took another drink of his now-cold coffee, but knew it wouldn’t do much to calm his racing heart. “I don’t understand. How can you see them? Who are they? What—”

“Never you mind,” the woman said, swatting away his questions with a gnarled hand. She never looked up to meet his gaze. “Like I said, it’ll happen as it’s meant to.” She stood from their game, turning to leave without a second glance back at Wilder or the animals watching them.

“Wait!” Wilder shouted after her, struggling to stand. But his legs had fallen dead asleep and wouldn’t let him move. His head grew woozy, his eyesight blurred. He felt like he was in one of those dreams where he’d try to run, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. Had there been something in his coffee?

“Wait,” he said again, his voice straining as he forced himself to remain standing, fighting against whatever was holding him back. “How can you see them?” he kept trying to ask her, but his voice in his own ears sounded muffled. “Just tell me what’s happening. You can’t leave. Not yet.”

The woman turned, finally meeting his stare. Her gaze was a piercing ocean blue, and he felt like she could shred apart his soul if she wanted to. Wilder’s heart stopped and he finally gave up, collapsing back into his seat.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked her, struggling for breath. “I’ll come back. I just need answers. You’re the only one I’ve ever met who—”

“I may be,” the woman said, raising a single knobbly finger and cutting him off, but she didn’t seem at all annoyed by his questions. “But I’m not so sure about you.” Her gaze softened, and he could almost feel her sympathy washing over him like ocean waves. Turning away, she strolled down the concrete path, leaving a dazed Wilder powerless to go after her.

Breathing hard, he scrunched his eyes closed, trying to blink away the buzzing muddling his mind. After a minute, the feeling in his legs returned, but when Wilder peered up, finally able to see straight, he knew in his gut he wouldn’t see the woman there. She had disappeared along with the animals.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Wilder resolved to come back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until he saw the woman again. She knew something. Knew him—somehow. Maybe she’d know where he had come from. Why he was the way he was. He at least had to try.

His heart plummeted, realizing once again he was being sent away at the end of the month. What if he couldn’t find her again before then? How often would he be able to make it back here?

Grabbing his empty cup, the chill of the coming evening pricked his skin. Wilder pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. He didn’t understand what was happening. He’d never had so many episodes occur in such a short span of time. Hallucinations. All hell breaking loose. Things had never gotten this bad before. Sure, now and again, something crazy would happen. An animal would follow him, a flowery face would peer down at him from a tree above, whispering and giggling to get his attention. On rare occasions, he’d lose control, and something might blow up. A microwave might short circuit, or a door would rip off its hinges. All things he could come up with some excuse for. All things everyone else could explain away by an aggressive temper and a dumb kid’s troubled past.

But a person? A real-life person that could see the animals too? And what had she done to keep him from going after her? He couldn’t explain that away. He didn’t hallucinate people. At least he didn’t think he did.

Lost in his thoughts, Wilder rose to leave, but a sharp glint caught his eye from between the trees. He turned to see another woman leaning against an aged trunk at the edge of the wood, hidden amongst the dark pine needles. She looked far younger, with pin straight hair the precise color of hematite, and dark almond-shaped eyes that never left him. A silver blade played between her fingers, glimmering in the weak late-day sun.

The hair on the back of Wilder’s neck stood at attention, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Drawing his eyes away, he tried to ignore her, starting down the path out of the park. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the woman step toward him.

Something in Wilder’s gut told him to run—fast.

Just then, a familiar white owl swooped down from the canopy, its talons readying to claw and snatch. Wilder sucked in a breath. The bird’s squawk sliced through the dusk as it shot for the woman, and she stumbled back, glaring up and lifting her arm just in time to block its descent. The bird’s talons seemed to strike against something solid, but invisible, before the owl bounced back up with another loud squawk, leaving the woman untouched.

Turning back to Wilder, the woman’s gaze narrowed, as if angered by the interruption. But a moment later, she had disappeared, absorbed into the darkness. The last thing Wilder saw of the two were the soft beating of white wings disappearing into the pines.

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