Down a Lost Road: Lost Road Chronicles, #1

By J. Leigh Bralick

Summer was supposed to mean sun, family, and fun…

 

…not undead warriors, mythical creatures, and trees that sing.

 

But that's exactly what 16-year-old Merelin gets.

 

Merelin's family has always been a little odd, but ever since her father disappeared four years ago, life has been pretty boring.

 

Then her world gets yanked out from under her.

 

Literally.

 

As if waking up in the desert of an alien world wasn't bad enough, the only person who sees her arrive is a fascinating — and infuriating — boy who calls himself Yatol…

 

…and tells her she carries the key that could save or destroy his world.

 

Can she trust his promise to help her survive, or should she walk away from his world—and the danger that threatens it—forever?

 

And if she fights…

 

…what price will she have to pay?

 

You'll love this fast-paced YA fantasy, because nothing is ever what it seems.

 

Get it now!

 

Down a Lost Road is the first book in the YA trilogy, the Lost Road Chronicles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vorona Books
• Release date: May 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781941108208

J. Leigh Bralick

J. Leigh writes primarily fantasy and YA fantasy novels. She has made one foray into science fiction, and enjoyed it so much she may eventually publish that experiment, if she survives the effort. Her favorite thing about writing fantasy is the excitement of exploring new worlds and experiencing exciting adventures — all on a very low-cost budget! All you really need is coffee.When she isn’t writing, J. Leigh loves her other job as an ER nurse (most of the time). (Except at 3AM.) She spends the rest of her non-existent spare time wrangling her three big dogs, acting as glorified tree branch for her little parrot Pippin, attempting to not murder garden plants, and taking care of her husband.

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Down a

Lost Road

Book I of the Lost Road Chronicles

by

J. Leigh Bralick

Published by Vorona Books

Copyright 2011 © J. Leigh Bralick

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, existing locations, or real people, living or dead, are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

For Kathi Russell-Rader, for being such an inspiration to me.

And for my mom, for always being willing to listen.

Chapter 1

All I wanted was my change , but Mr. Dansy acted like it was a bank heist.

I’d known him for as long as I could remember, and I’d never seen him like this. He’d been white as a ghost since I walked up to the counter, and his hands shook so hard as he plucked coins from the cash drawer that I was afraid they’d fall off. I wondered if he was sick, but the way his eyes kept darting over the shop it seemed more like he was looking for someone…or expecting someone. And when a car backfired on the street outside, he jumped and spilled all the coins back into the bottom of the drawer.

That was when I really started to worry.

I leaned over the counter, trying to catch his attention. Hey, Mr. Dansy, are you all right?

Oh-h-h, fine, Merelin. Thanks for asking, darlin’.

He didn’t even glance at me. His whole face was tied up in a frown, like fear or something broken. Mr. Dansy wasn’t old; he might have been younger than my mom, even though he had a habit of dressing in rumpled suits that looked about sixty years out of fashion. But at that moment, the way worry traced lines down his cheeks made him seem almost ancient. Sweat shone on the bald patch on his head and speckled his lip, even though he always kept the convenience store at a sub-glacial temperature.

Should I call someone for you? I asked. An ambulance?

He gave a short laugh as if I was being funny, then waved distractedly in my direction. "No, it’s not that…not that at all. I’m fine."

He hit both of those last words with dramatic force, so I wasn’t sure which one he was trying to emphasize more.

Then he went on staring out the window, his fingers moving uselessly over the trays of coins, until I gave up trying to be helpful.

You know what, I said, trying a smile and a shrug. How about I just come back later. Not like my world will end without chips and salsa.

Offering to pick up a few things for my mom had seemed totally important half an hour ago, when I was desperate for an excuse to get out of the house, but right now I was starting to think home was a fantastic place to be.

Apparently Mr. Dansy thought otherwise.

"No no no wait, he said, the words all jumbling over themselves. You need this."

He grabbed my hand, and before I could pull it free, he dumped a small pile of coins into my palm and pressed my fingers closed over them.

As soon as he released me his gaze flinched back to the window, a visible shudder running all the way down him. I frowned. The street outside was as deserted as ever, on a mid-morning Tuesday at the beginning of summer. A diminutive Pomeranian wearing more bling than strictly necessary was hauling a woman in hot pink spandex down the sidewalk, but no one else was around. Even the ubiquitous university students who overran Brewer during the school year had gone, leaving us a ghost town.

But Mr. Dansy kept staring out the window, like he was seeing something I wasn’t. I’d never thought of him as the paranoid type, but he was starting to freak me out.

Well, he said, and fixed me with a strange, resigned kind of look. That’s that, I suppose. I hope… His voice trailed off, then he finished, "Just…be careful. Whatever you do, don’t lose it, darlin’."

It? I thought, bewildered. Lose what?

You…you doing all right, Merelin?

I swallowed and glanced away, because of all the things he could have asked, that was the last thing I expected.

It’s your father’s birthday, isn’t it?

Yeah, I said, snatching the bag off the counter. It was.

Merelin… His voice trailed off briefly, then he turned to stare out the window again. I’m sorry.

I shrugged, because somehow I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shout or cry or get in Mr. Dansy’s face and ask how on earth he would know something like that about my dad.

If Mr. Dansy noticed he’d just reduced me to a pathetic shivering wreck, he didn’t show it. His head just made a nervous kind of twitch toward the door, and his hand shot up to his mouth.

Gnawing on a ragged fingernail, he stared at me through those round brown eyes, big as they could possibly get, and said, Well, go on now. And…have a good day.

I guess he could have just said, Get out of my shop, but at least he was being polite.

You too, Mr. Dansy. I hesitated near the door. You’re sure everything’s all right? I can call someone. It’s no problem.

Go, go! I’m fine. Take care now, and don’t lose that.

All right already. I won’t lose all forty-nine cents.

I just nodded in answer as I ducked out of the shop. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the heat of the early Texas summer blasted over me, thick with the honey-sweet smell of magnolia blossoms. Suddenly, everything around me started to shimmer, mirage-bright, then my stomach flipped. I stumbled two steps into the shade of the old tree, snatching at the rough dark trunk for support, swallowing and swallowing to fight back the nausea. And then, in my other hand, one rough coin turned so cold it burned.

My fingers spasmed, nearly dropping the whole handful on the ground.

All around me the wind picked up, hot and dry as a desert, and from somewhere in the shadows a terrible sound rose, as if all the noise of the town were being sucked into a vacuum right over my head. I doubled over, covering my ears awkwardly with my forearms.

The sound got louder…and louder. Deafening.

Then it was gone. The silence fell like winter. At almost the same instant it felt like someone grabbed hold of my stomach and wrenched it straight out of me. All the blood rushed to my feet, pulling a shiver of terror behind it. I could have sworn the whole world shuddered.

Was that what Mr. Dansy had felt? What was it?

I staggered away from the tree and glanced back at the shop. Through the tinted glass I could just make out Mr. Dansy’s face hovering near the window, peering out at me. Had he heard the noise too? It was hard to say—he looked just as terrified as before, with his sleeve to his forehead, still sweating. Then the shadows around me darkened under the cloudless sky and I lurched, hard, as if someone had punched me in the back. For one fraction of a moment I met Mr. Dansy’s gaze through the dark glass, then I turned and ran.

I didn’t even care if the whole town saw me—grocery sack swinging wildly, feet hammering the cracked pavement, messy ponytail half falling out. I’m not ashamed of my running. I’m good at it. But running track and running in terror are two totally different things. I wasn’t about to stop to analyze the idea, though.

Head and heart pounding, drenched in sweat, I finally made it home and jumped the front steps in two bounds. As soon as the door cracked open I was through it, throwing my weight back to slam it shut as though something had chased me home. I even snuck a glance through the peephole to make sure nothing had.

Mer, don’t slam the door!

I glared in the direction of the family room where my older sister Maggie was reading—where she was still reading. She hadn’t moved all morning. I couldn’t imagine trying to explain my terror to her, eighteen and imperious, too old to be bothered with silly things like why the whole town felt like it had just gone freaking insane. I couldn’t even explain it to myself, because I felt about as paranoid as Mr. Dansy had looked.

My fingers tightened on the coins, and I leaned a few more moments against the door, breathing deeply to try to calm the race of my heart. Gradually my head cleared and the fear began to fade, but for all I tried I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Dansy. Maybe he did need a doctor, and I’d just walked out and left him. Maybe I was the only person who would see him for hours. Maybe he’d finally and completely lost it.

I rubbed a hand over my face. My mom would definitely know what to do. But she had never seemed to like Mr. Dansy much, or at least she barely tolerated him. I think she thought he was already crazy. Maybe he was. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever had a moment’s excitement in his life, but whatever that was back there, it had most definitely succeeded in creeping me out.

Figured. I was just starting to enjoy my summer break. Weirdness and overpowering irrational fears were not my idea of a fun vacation. And since when did anything exciting ever happen at the convenience store? Brewer might be a hick town but it wasn’t that much of a hick town.

The tip of my finger brushed over the rough cold coin clamped in my palm, and again I felt that strange, tugging feeling twisting my stomach. I shuddered and headed for the kitchen.

Whatever, I muttered. That is epically wrong.

It came out louder than I meant, and of course my mom was right there at the counter to hear me. She glanced up from her laptop, regarding me with faint surprise.

What’s wrong? she asked.

I bit my lip, scrambling to think of a reasonable answer.

Um, just Maggie. She’s always yelling at me. And I swear this time I didn’t do anything. Mom gave me a skeptical kind of look and I glowered, holding out the grocery sack. Here’s your stuff.

Merelin…

What? I snapped.

And that made me irked at myself on top of it all. Why was I being so rude? I didn’t usually cop that kind of attitude with my mom.

I’m sorry, I said. I’m fine. Just tired.

Mom watched me quietly, the way she did when she knew something was wrong but didn’t want to pry. Sometimes I thought her blue eyes actually turned a silver sort of grey in moments like those. When I was little it was how I could tell if she understood my fears, or the truth of whatever I didn’t want to tell her.

You ran home, she remarked. Are you okay? Did something happen?

I shoved my hands in my pockets, coins and all, and chewed on the inside of my lip.

Nah. Just…Mr. Dansy was being all kinds of weird, I said at last, mumbling. Do you think I should have called 911 for him?

Her brows shot up in surprise. What kind of weird would need an ambulance?

He was just going off about…I don’t even know what. But he seemed really pale and sweaty. Isn’t that a sign of a heart attack or something?

She gave me a reassuring smile. You know Mr. Dansy isn’t exactly the most stable person on the planet. If you’re worried about it, though, I’ll call down in a minute and make sure he’s all right.

Thanks, I said, letting out all my breath in that one word. I turned to go, but hesitated near the stairs. He asked about Dad, I said. It came out a bare whisper. He remembered it was his birthday.

My mom bit her lip and glanced away, and didn’t answer.

Chapter 2

I headed upstairs to my bedroom and closed the door behind me—gently so Maggie wouldn’t yell at me again. My hand was still clenched tight in a fist, damp with sweat and numb in patches from the edges of the coins. I could smell the metal too, that cloying acrid scent that made my stomach quaver. My heart raced, nervous and excited at the same time, but part of my brain—the part that was growing up way too fast—insisted I was getting all worked up for nothing, and being childish besides.

I tuned out. Smoothing the rumpled green sheet on my old iron-framed bed, I sat down ceremoniously at its foot and tipped the coins out of my hand.

Somewhere in the corner of my mind I thought I heard a door slam, a scattering of footsteps in the hall. I jumped, my heart pitching to a gallop, and clapped a hand over the coins, but just as fast as it had come the sound had gone…if it had ever been there at all.

Great. Now I was hearing things, too. Time to go back to bed and try waking up again.

I turned back to the neat pile of coins in front of me and sighed, feeling like the idiot of the year. That was it? A pile of plain old coins—the quarter, so tarnished you could hardly see George’s head, two dimes, and four beat up pennies. I’d run all the way home in a panic over that?

I frowned. No. There was no way I could have mistaken the rough, gouged-out face of the one coin, so burning cold.

So where was it?

I swallowed, remembering Mr. Dansy’s panicked and repeated warning: Don’t lose it.

And what was the first thing I did when I got home? Lose it. Fantastic.

Lose what, Mr. Dansy? I muttered under my breath. You could’ve been a bit more specific.

I glared at the pile of coins. As tightly as I’d been holding them, I would have noticed if one had fallen. And if I had dropped it, it had to be somewhere in the house, because I’d definitely felt the thing in my hand when I was standing by the door.

I slid off the bed, sweeping up the coins and dumping them into an old tin on my dresser for safekeeping. Outside the wind picked up, setting a dead branch scraping my window with a fingernails-on-chalkboard kind of sound just as I reached my door. It made me jump, again, and I’m not usually a jumpy kind of person. I stared a good two minutes at the window until I’d convinced myself it really was just a tree branch, then I turned to leave.

I saw it at out of the corner of my eye, just for a second.

A shadow, darker than pitch. A red glow, like two eyes staring in at me.

My heart pattering like mad, I glanced over my shoulder, but there was nothing there. Only empty tree branches and the whiteness of magnolia blossoms.

Seriously? You’re imagining things. Again.

I gritted my teeth and darted out of my room, clattered back down the stairs, and cleared the last three in one leap.

Merry!

Maggie and Tony, this time. They only called me Merry when they were really mad at me for something. I poked my head into the family room.

What?

Do you really have to sound like a herd of elephants when you come downstairs? Tony asked, not even glancing up from his physics textbook.

Surprise. Tony never stopped studying. I don’t think he knew the meaning of summer vacation.

At least I’m not a barnacle, I shot back.

Maggie peered at me over her magazine. Your point?

I shook my head and left them to the boringness of their existence. Sometimes it felt like my twin brother Damian and I were the only sane ones in the family, though I’m sure Maggie and Tony would have eagerly argued the matter.

I wandered back into the kitchen and felt around in the empty grocery sack. Nothing. And quiet as I tried to be, Mom still heard me rustling the plastic and turned to see what I was up to.

Looking for something?

I shrugged. Nothing important. Just something I picked up when I was out. A little trinket coin…thing. I think I misplaced it.

A stillness settled over her face, and when she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. A trinket…thing? And you misplaced it?

Um, yeah, I said. Why? What’s wrong?

She studied me closely another moment, then smiled brightly and turned back around. I haven’t seen anything like it, sorry.

You just seemed kind of, I don’t know, weirded out.

I’m fine.

I crossed my arms, scowling. Now even my mom was acting strange, and I didn’t think this day could get much stranger if it tried. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if it did.

Mom, you don’t get to say you’re fine. That’s an obnoxious teenager thing, I said, but she only laughed. Just let me know if you see it, okay?

What does it look like?

I opened my mouth, then closed it hard. Good question. Like…a coin, I said lamely. Don’t worry about it.

Without waiting for her reply I made my escape. I scoured the foyer again, opening and closing the front door and triggering the security beep enough times that Maggie hollered at me again. Searched up and down the stairs twice, even the cracks in the carpet where the steps met the wall. No luck.

I’d just made up my mind to head back upstairs when I heard my mom pick up the phone. Curious, I sat down on one of the lower steps, hooking my arms over the banister as I tried to eavesdrop.

Charles? my mom asked. She’d gone to the back of the kitchen, so I had to focus hard to make out her words. Yes, yes, she did. She got home just fine. Just a few minutes ago. I know. That’s why I’m calling. Is everything all right? Merelin was worried. Yes, I know. A long pause, then, "No, Charles. You listen. You have no right—no, enough. I don’t want to hear it."

She hung up the phone without a word of goodbye, planting it roughly on the counter. I leaned back on my hands, frowning at the kitchen.

Strange. What was that all about?

I was considering the possibility of confronting her about it when I heard her coming back towards the hallway. Since I really didn’t want her to catch me eavesdropping, I turned and bolted up the stairs—and ran full into Damian.

He only staggered a step, but I felt the world reel and knew with sickening certainty I was going to fly head over heels down the stairs. Just before I plummeted to my doom Damian’s hand locked on my arm, hauling me upright. He stooped to look at me—he was that tall, and being on a higher step didn’t help.

Whoa, Mer, what’s the rush? he asked languidly.

I brushed myself off, trying to restore my lost dignity. Thanks.

I always got your back.

Where’d you come from, anyway? I thought you were at the ice rink. Or, was today the dojo…?

Damian just grinned. Nah. Rink was closed. Zam broke down, someone left their gear in the locker room, a tornado tore down the bleachers, you know. It happens.

I forced a smile and tried to edge out of his grasp, but he mirrored my movement, still staring me intently in the eyes.

Mer?

Leave off. Just going to my room.

Awful edgy.

My heart raced. Much as I wanted to stay and talk to him, all I really felt right then was a terror I couldn’t explain, like a gnawing sickness in the back of my mind. I had to find that coin. Now.

Come on, D, I said. I just need to be alone a while, okay? I’m tired.

He released me abruptly, but I could feel his gaze following me as I darted up to my bedroom.

What, he called after me, you got a chat date with some guy I need to know about?

I stuck out my tongue. You’d know it already if I did. They’re lining up, but they’ll just have to wait.

Damian snorted. It didn’t help that he knew better than anyone how shy I was. I’d never had a real boyfriend—not one that would get past Damian’s approval anyway—so of course I never heard the end of his teasing.

I slipped into my room and shut the door on Damian’s concerned gaze, snapping the lock behind me. My heart hitched on a shred of guilt—I never locked Damian out. Never. And somehow I resented this coin thing more than anything for making me feel like I had to.

From the door I scanned the floor of my room for the coin, inch by inch. I’d nearly reconciled myself to failure when I finally caught sight of it, glinting coldly between the folds of the granny quilt heaped on the floor at the foot of my bed. My immediate relief lapsed into a grumble of annoyance. All that time spent hunting for the thing and it was right there.

Damian knocked softly on my door.

Still feeling guilty for locking him out, I snatched the thing off the floor and tucked it in my back pocket, then went to unlock the door.

Sorry, D, I said as I opened it, and faltered.

He wasn’t there. No one was there. The hallway stretched out, dark and empty, but I could have sworn…

Damian? I whispered.

Behind me the branch scraped and whined against my window again, setting my skin prickling. I edged silently out of my room and crept toward Damian’s. His door was ajar, but from the hallway I couldn’t see if he was inside.

Damian!

I hammered on his door, sending it crashing open, and I let out a quick breath when I saw him sprawled in his desk chair, his feet propped on his drafting table. He was fiddling with some kind of mechanical thing he’d been obsessing over for the last month at least, and didn’t seem the least concerned that I’d just practically broken down his door.

You’re here! I cried.

It was half question, half exclamation, and he just cocked his head at me, frowning behind the wisps of his golden hair. Another creak emanated from the hallway and I leapt into his room, slamming the door behind me and diving into the pillow on his bed.

What the—Mer, you okay? What’s going on?

Breathe, Merelin. You’re being ridiculous.

The house is possessed, I muttered into the pillow.

Possessed.

I slanted a glance at him. It’s going to eat me.

The house?

I nodded, mock serious. After a moment I sat up and found Damian still studying me curiously.

Seriously, D, you weren’t just knocking on my door? Please tell me you were knocking on my door.

Um, no. You wanted to be left alone, remember? Since when do I bug you when you don’t want to be bugged?

All the time, I said, cracking a smile.

Touché. But this time, no. He set the device on his desk. So, what, you heard someone knocking and no one was there?

I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not crazy! Then there’s that branch, and the door creaks, and…I’m warning you, if I disappear, check the closets. They’re like big mouths.

I pantomimed death-by-closet with my hands. Damian laughed and pitched a wad of paper at me.

You’re crazy.

Be that way.

I shoved off the bed and headed for the door, my fingers fidgeting over the edge of my back pocket.

Damian…

Yeah?

He wasn’t looking at me any more, which was sort of a relief. I wondered what he would have said if he saw me standing there like an idiot. I could have pulled the coin out right then and shown it to him. I wanted to, more than anything, but somehow…I just couldn’t make myself do it. Maybe I could talk to him later. At the moment, I couldn’t seem to find my voice.

I finally wandered out of his room and slipped into my mom’s. With all the curtains drawn the room was dark and cool, just the way I liked it. But I couldn’t see anything with all the lights off, so I switched on the bedside lamp and sat down by the pillow. For a moment I just stared at the face gazing back at me from the picture on Mom’s nightstand—the face I loved, and missed, more than any other.

My dad.

I reached out and let my fingertips rest on the picture frame glass, a knot burning in my throat.

Happy birthday, Daddy, I whispered.

Pictures of him decorated every wall in the bedroom. Across from me hung a photo I’d taken myself at our last family reunion, four years ago, on one of those cheap disposable cameras the adults gave us to use. Dad leaned against our old magnolia tree sipping a mint julep. The way the light filtered through the leaves behind his shoulder, I’d always imagined that some kind of ethereal figure stood behind him, barely outlined by that shimmer of light. I used to make up stories about who or what the figure was. Angel, elf, ghost, the spiritual presence of someone from another world, any number of equally crazy ideas. I didn’t make up those stories any more.

Three months after the reunion, Dad had disappeared.

He’d left the house late in the evening, when he was usually sitting quietly in his overstuffed recliner, drinking twice re-warmed coffee and reading last Sunday’s paper. I remember the rattle of rain against the windows. It was pouring, a cold and miserable late autumn storm. And there was my dad, throwing on his overcoat and peering again and again out the window.

He said he had to go to his office at the university to get a student’s paper, but that didn’t explain his panic. I followed him to the door asking him why he was going, and before he disappeared from the porch light he turned to say something to me. I never got to ask him what he said. Only the rumble of his mellow voice cut through the shattering rain, his dark eyes sad and regretful, and then he was gone. Funny, I’d replayed that memory in my mind more times than I cared to count, and every time I did, I felt more and more certain that he hadn’t been speaking English at all.

It was the last thing he’d ever said to me, and I didn’t even know what it was.

I’d never stopped waiting for him to return. It didn’t matter what the cops said, or how they called a halt to the searches and investigations, all at once, as if on cue. I remember the day Officer Jankins took my mom aside. The apologies, the tears. The reporters with bulky cameras trying to invade the sadness of our house, the neighbors sending cookies, the university’s condolences.

No one whispered, no one spread rumors—none at least that I heard. They just gave up. Everyone did, except Damian and me. We’d made a pledge never to give up hope, and we never did, even though the years had blunted the pain. Sometimes I think my mom didn’t either. She wore a mask of acceptance for the rest of the world to see, but I’d caught her in moments when she thought she was alone, whispering conversations to him through her tears.

My heart ached and the room blurred, but I blinked the pain away and pulled the coin out of my pocket. I kept staring at my father’s picture, because part of me didn’t really want to look at the coin. What if it wasn’t anything special? Maybe Mr. Dansy had given me an old arcade token or something equally lame as a joke, even though Mr. Dansy had never done anything like that before. And my whole morning of mindless terror would turn out to be just that—mindless. All worked up over nothing.

I desperately wanted it to be something more exciting. If I’d been a bit younger, it wouldn’t have mattered if the thing were just a bit of junk. I still would have pretended it had strange magical properties—something that hypnotized viewers, probably, and evoked strange whispers from dark corners in the room. I’d always had too active an imagination. But here I was, sixteen, too old for make-believe and too young to be bored with the tedious sameness of life, day after day.

I dreaded disappointment.

Finally I sighed and uncurled my fingers, holding the palm of my hand under the pool of warm golden light.

For a solid minute I sat and stared at it. The object was a small circle, about the size of a silver dollar, cast from some heavy, dull-sheened metal that looked a bit like bronze. There was an outside ring, and on the inside the metal twisted in a complicated knot, kind of like the Celtic necklace Maggie always wore.

All along the knot were the tiniest, strangest letters I had ever seen, but the endless knot made it impossible to tell where the words began and where they ended.

Maybe, I thought, maybe they weren’t normal words meant to be read in the normal way at all. Maybe you could just grasp the meaning, the way you sometimes suddenly just know something.

I pressed my fingers over it and thought I could feel the metal pulsing between my fingers, the way the ground does under my bare feet before a thunderstorm. I half expected to see the thing glowing when I opened my hand. It only went on glinting coldly, the soft lamplight shining a bit on the bumps, but swallowed in flat shadow in the crevices. It seemed so unspectacular, but it was the most curious, wonderful, terrifying thing I had ever held.

And suddenly I realized that I had seen it before.

Chapter 3

I stared at the coin, racking my brain for some hint of a memory. I had this strange certainty that I’d seen the thing somewhere right there, in my mom’s room, which had always felt like a treasure trove of mystery to me anyway. First I checked her jewelry boxes, then the bookshelf and the tidy drawers of her nightstand. No luck.

Maybe I was just imagining things.

Maybe I was going crazy.

I sighed and turned to the wall photos, making my usual pilgrimage around the room before leaving. I could never go into Mom’s bedroom without visiting all the different pictures, turning cherished memories over in my heart to keep them fresh. But it always hurt. Sometimes it hurt unbearably. Sometimes I avoided her room for just that reason.

My first stop was the photo she had of Dad bending over me just after Damian and I had been born. I’d always loved the look on his face in that picture, so calm and caring, with a flash of gentleness in a face that always seemed too solemn. The same picture was in my baby album, but there Dad had captioned the photo in his small, careful hand: Iell egledhruir.

He’d never told me what it meant. I think he expected me to figure it out, or maybe he just disappeared before he got a chance to explain. I’d always guessed it was something from one of J.R.R. Tolkien’s languages, which my dad had supposedly known better than almost anyone. But that was all I had. Just one more mystery in my life. I was so tired of mysteries with no clues and no answers.

I moved on to a photo of the whole family the day we’d gotten our dog Jas, the kids sprawled in the grass with the puppy, Dad standing by the old magnolia. And there again, that shimmer behind his left shoulder.

I gazed at the shimmer for a few moments, then went back to my baby picture. Suddenly I leaned forward, squinting to study the picture more closely. A cold shock shivered through me. Hardly daring to breathe, I held up the coin. Held it up so it covered its image in the picture, where it hung on a chain around my dad’s neck, slipping out from under his shirt as he bent over my crib. Every stark detail was there, and I had never even noticed.

Oh, Merelin. You’re…back already?

I stopped breathless in the doorway of Mr. Dansy’s shop. I wasn’t even sure why I had decided to run all the way back to the store, or what I wanted to say to Mr. Dansy when I got there. For half a minute I just stood there, mute and paralyzed, until another customer gave me a nasty glare as he shouldered out of the store past me. I grimaced, smoothing down the wild flyaway wisps of my hair and praying no one would notice how sweaty I was.

Um, I forgot to get batteries, I mumbled, waving at the first thing that caught my eye.

I edged around Mr. Dansy and stared blankly at the battery display. My thoughts careened from one plan to another. Maybe I could threaten him, or try to trick information out of him, or beg and plead. All the while I could feel his wide-eyed terror, like he was expecting some kind of monster to jump out behind me. It got me nervously glancing over my shoulder too.

Mr. Dansy drew up close beside me, dabbing at his forehead with his sleeve cuff. Well, darlin’, you didn’t lose it…did you?

I jumped in spite of myself.

That thing was my father’s, Mr. Dansy! I cried, spinning to face him. "My father’s! Did you think I wouldn’t figure that out? Where did you get it? Did you steal it from him? It looks kind of, I don’t know, unique…"

Shh! Mr. Dansy waved at me frantically, hands flapping like pennants in a stiff breeze. Unique! Course it is! That’s why you gots to hush. You do still have it, though? Where’s it at?

It was my father’s. It looks about ten billion years old. Of course I still have it, I said crossly.

If he was relieved it didn’t show. His face had gone so pale it looked almost grey, and beads of sweat dribbled down his temples. He kept blotting them away, but they kept popping out like they had a mind of their own.

Please, Merelin, keep your voice down! he hissed.

I opened my mouth, but it was the alarm on his face that finally silenced my instinct to shoot back a smart comment.

He froze suddenly, head tipped a little to the side as if to listen to something, alert like a police dog when it hones in on a scent. His eyes roved over the shop, toward the windows, searching. They fixed on something—his whole body tensed. I could literally see the blood drain from his face.

They’re here, he whispered. I got the unsettling feeling he wasn’t talking to me at all. How’d they know? Fiends! Must’ve followed. Must’ve been watching her. He rounded on me so abruptly that I flinched away, but his hands were locked around my arms and I couldn’t pull free. I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I thought…I thought I’d thrown them off your scent. You gotta get out of here now!

"Mr. Dansy, what are you talking about?"

Don’t ask, no time! Just, oh God, hurry. You got to get away before they find you, before they find you and take Pyelthan from you! Do you hear me? You ain’t safe here, darlin’. Not now. This is the only way, trust me!

He closed his eyes, his lips twitching noiselessly. I took one step back, but that was as far as I could go. Mr. Dansy shook my arm.

He’s waiting. He’ll explain it all. I’m sorry it was like this. Believe me, it was never supposed to happen this way. But…trust me, darlin’. Just go!

I wanted to protest but for what felt like an eternity I just stood there like a lump, staring at him slack-jawed.

If you want me to leave, you’ve gotta let me go, I finally said, trying to tug my arm free of his grip. Look, you are seriously not making sense! Where am I supposed to go? Home?

No! he cried, cutting me off. No, not safe for you there.

Then where? I don’t even have a car! I said, biting back every not-so-nice word Damian had ever inadvertently taught me. Hang on a second. How well did you know my dad? Do you know where he is? Does this have something to do with him?

Merelin, go!

No, I said, planting my feet. Not until you tell me the truth. Where is my father?

He shook my arm once more, fiercely, then shoved me back. Go, he said, and his voice sounded suddenly strange, almost otherworldly. "Go, or he and you and all the others will be in danger. Now!"

I didn’t get a chance to protest, or ask him any of the million other questions tumbling through my mind. The shop door crashed open behind us with the sharp shattering of glass, and as I spun to look I stumbled over nothing, and shadow swarmed up around me.

I thought I’d fainted, but…somehow I knew I was awake, wildly, terrifyingly awake. My body never hit the ground—if the ground was there, it was like I fell right through it. I couldn’t move my arms, couldn’t catch myself. Just kept free-falling. Couldn’t feel any direction. Up, down, and side to side all gave the same sickening surge in the stomach. It was too fast for terror, but it felt unending. Then all was still. I was still.

And it was hot.

After the heat, the first thing that registered was the light, blindingly bright against my eyelids. I forced open my eyes, squinting against the pain in my head. Dazzling gold-white and blue stretched as far as I could see, the whole image swimming from the curls of heat that sweltered over the spread of gold.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision, and tried to focus on my hand splayed on the ground near my face.

Sand cushioned it, sifting between my fingers, hot and coarse.

Sand.

Sand? I scrambled to my feet, dizzy, terrified. My sense of balance lurched, like I’d suddenly grown tall and thin…like the world’s gravity had somehow shifted. I steadied myself and concentrated on the wheeling sands that spread away from me in every direction. My stomach churned again, the blood pounding in my ears. I thought I would be sick.

It’s not possible. How can I possibly be in the middle of a freaking desert?

But it was kind of hard to insist the desert was impossible when I had sand whipping constantly up into my face. Had I fainted, or gotten knocked out? Had Mr. Dansy drugged me? Whatever had happened, I had to be unconscious now, because this had to be a dream. There was no way I could be here, in a desert, when a moment before I’d been standing in a convenience store in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.

A dream then, definitely. My dreams always felt this real, and besides, some little part of my mind kept trying to insist that I had dreamed this dream before, a thousand times or more. I couldn’t say if it was true, but somehow…somehow the sight of the desert seemed strangely familiar.

The sane