Last Moon Rising Series Box Set (1-3): Last Moon Rising

Chapter One

The severe drought that has plagued the southeast for the past six months, killing hundreds of cattle and crippling wildlife, is migrating north. Most of the southern New England states haven’t seen rain for six months, and current weather patterns indicate this trend will continue indefinitely, making for an unusually dry, warm fall. Wildfires in the Midwest have now consumed tens of thousands of acres, more than fifty homes, and a total of thirty casualties. Rain continues to drench southern California, creating another mudslide which has claimed dozens more homes and a family of four. One hundred sixty people have died from a deadly tornado outbreak that covered the states of Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma. In other news...

My hand shot out, slapped the radio button, and cut off the reporter’s dispassionate voice. My window fan whirred softly, but the cool night air had already dissipated, so the fan did nothing more than circulate warm air across my skin. I laid in bed in a tank top and undies, a bead of sweat trailing down my hairline to my jaw, where it detoured to slide down my neck. My stomach cramped, and my mouth was dry. I reached for the water I kept on my nightstand and drank it down.

I was starting to understand the old adage kill the messenger. The message these days was never good, all about droughts and fires and tornado outbreaks. It seemed the Earth pulsed with its own message to the inhabitants that had been abusing it for centuries; a message of doom and destruction.

I yawned then breathed deeply, wishing for the cool and damp Northeast fall air. Instead, the air smelled dry and hot, like old pine needles baking in the sun. Despite the weather man’s promise last night of a desperately-needed soaking rain after midnight, it definitely hadn’t rained.

I rubbed my eyes then swung my feet off the bed. That weatherman should be called a whether-man, because no one knew whether the man actually knew what he was talking about.

The distant rumble of Kent Falls—Kent, Connecticut’s two-hundred-fifty-foot claim to fame—barely squeezed through the screen of my open window. How long would it take a drought to suck all the moisture from the falls? I shivered at the thought. I’d been hiking to the falls every day since June, and I could swear it was shrinking, not that anyone would listen to the dire musings of some hick sixteen year-old.

Wait. Check that.

Seventeen year-old. Today was my birthday.

With a squeal, I peered at my newly seventeen year-old self in the mirror, checking out my front-end, back-end and everything in between. I twisted my lips. Obviously, turning seventeen hadn’t miraculously made me ... what? Different? Cool? I pressed my hands to my breast bone and held my breath, but my chest didn’t look any bigger. I laughed to myself. As if sprouting boobs during the night would make any difference. Haley Roble would never be a hall goddess, that was for damn sure.

After a quick water-saving shower, I dressed in a pink t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in one knee. I debated whether to pull back my hair into a ponytail, but after inspecting my should-length hair, which wasn’t frizzing and actually looked nearly sleek, I decided I shouldn’t hide a good hair day behind a rubber band.

Skipping down the stairs, I stopped in our cracked, yellow kitchen for a piece of toast. Mom, despite her blonde bed-head and blue terry robe, still managed to look runway-ready as her blue eyes gazed into her coffee cup.

Being adopted, I had no one to blame for my less-than-model looks. My petite frame resembled a tom-boy, and my gray eyes seemed faded in my pale face, unless I wore make-up to brighten them. I kind of rocked the hair department, thick and straight, though the color bordered on mousy. My clothes situation, however, was on a good-will basis, and my chest area was a total bust—not exactly a combination that attracted hall gods.

Mom kissed my cheek and slid a plate of burnt toast toward me. Happy birthday, Haley.

Thanks, Mom.

I ate my toast quickly, trying to get it all in before she had the chance to get dressed and insist on driving me to school. Maybe, since I was now seventeen, Mom would make her smother-hood a thing of the past.

I over-slept. Let me get dressed, she said, as though reading my thoughts.

No worries. I’m good with taking the bus. See you later. I swallowed the last of my toast, pecked her cheek, grabbed my backpack, and dashed outside before she could lay out the old Mom-veto. Love you! I called over my shoulder.

Slipping my arms through the backpack straps, I detoured through the yard, my feet crunching over the brown grass. I checked the level of seed in the bird feeders and made sure there was water in the bird bath before hitting the road.

Bird calls echoed through the woods, the trees so thick that they barred almost all daylight from touching the road. I raised my chin, gazing at the trees towering over me like a protective shield, then down at the dying wildflowers wilting in beds of shriveled leaves. Minutes later, I reached the bus stop. I sat on a fallen tree and breathed deeply. It actually did smell like rain. I nibbled my lip, trying not to get my hopes up while I glanced at the gray sky.

No other kids showed up at the stop, most of them choosing to bum rides from other kids or parents rather than ride the bus. I didn’t mind; I liked being alone. I poked a limp golden rod, and dry seeds pattered to the ground. I just didn’t get other kids. It was like they lived by different rules, and someone had forgotten to give me the rule book. Most of them looked at me like I was a nut-job cat lady who’d not only lost her marbles, but chucked them at people’s heads. Not that I cared, of course, what they thought of me. The only opinion that mattered was Elana’s, my best friend.

A bit of pride filled my chest. Tall, willowy, blonde Elana had dissed the hall goddess crowd and chosen me as her friend. I smiled. While the friendship hadn’t upgraded my nobody- status to somebody-status, it proved that maybe I wasn’t such a loser after all.

A car door slammed, and my back stiffened. A moment later, a blue SUV rumbled past. I sighed in relief that it wasn’t Mom coming for me, and then narrowed my eyes. Mom had still been undressed at 6:15 in the morning. Now that was a first. Mom was by-the-book rigid to the point of suffocation, and considered timeliness—not cleanliness—next to Godliness, though I’d never actually heard her mention God in all my seventeen years. Or maybe it was over-protectiveness next to Godliness. She had that down to a science.

She hated me taking the bus to school, and she inspected every potential friend as if she might have a secret identity as an axe murderer (which is why I’d never brought Elana to the house). Basically, she hated me doing anything on my own. My stomach twisted. I hated being treated like a little kid.

Stop it! I ordered myself, already feeling guilty for those thoughts. Mom had adopted me, and given me a great home. I would do anything for Mom. Well, except stay a child.

I caught a leaf as it fluttered past my face.

The leaves, which should have been sparkling with fall colors of gold, red and orange, were brown. I ran a finger over the wrinkles, and then folded it, the brittle, crackling sound making me wince. As I wondered if all my fears about global climate change and the destruction of Earth was finally becoming a reality, something wet pinged my nose.

Rubbing my arm across my nose, I searched the trees for the shooter of what I was sure had been a spit ball. Three fat rain drops bounced off face.

Rain! I raised my face to the weeping sky.

The skies opened up, and within minutes the hard ground turned into mud. Okay, so technically the whether man had been right; it was after midnight. I dashed for shelter under a large oak tree. My feet slid in the mud and shot into the air. I landed on my butt.

Oh, crap.

Launching myself to my feet, I took shelter beneath the tree, but the damage was done; I was soaked. Water dripped down my face and I danced from foot to foot until, finally, the bus creaked up the hill. I squished into an empty seat in the front, settled my soaked backpack next to me, and watched rain slice down the window. So much for a good hair day.

The rain had stopped by the time the bus reached the school. I could hit the bathroom before class started and try to do some damage control ... if I hurried. I jogged down the hall, my sneakers squelching on the tile and my wet jeans chafing my thighs as I wove through the mass of students. Speeding around a corner, my sneakers squeaked when I tried to stop before sliding into a girl. We collided and tumbled to the floor, my backpack taking most of the impact. A few kids stopped to snicker.

I pursed my lips, my stomach clenching and my face burning. I’d just bowled down one of the hall goddesses. For the most part, the hall gods and goddesses looked through me as if I was nothing but a puff of air, but there was no hiding this time, especially since I was practically sitting on one.

Sorry, I said, skooching back on my butt until I was a safe distance away.

The girl lay on her side and wailed. I shifted on my butt cheeks. Had I hit her that hard?

Brianna!

A second hall goddess towered over me, hazel eyes glaring and strawberry blonde ponytail whipping across her shoulders as her head swiveled between me and Brianna. My stomach sunk slowly, as though mired in mud. This goddess was none other than the head cheerleader, the queen goddess herself.

The goddess pulled Brianna to her feet. Did that loser knock you down?

Brianna covered her face with her hands and continued crying.

Did she hurt you? the cheerleader demanded.

I tried to look somewhat dignified, sitting on my dirty butt in the middle of the floor, with soggy hair stuck to my face and muddy shoes smearing the linoleum.

I—Ian dumped me! Brianna bawled.

I couldn’t stop the gasp. Ian Blais was a crazy-gorgeous senior. With deliciously dark hair sweeping in a just-got-out-of-bed way across steamy green eyes, he had half the high school girls panting at his boot heels. Including me. I’d been crushing on Ian for the entire month he’d been at school. I scrambled to my feet, not wanting to miss a word regarding Ian’s newly-found bachelor status.

Forget him. You can do better than him, the head hall goddess drawled in a sugary tone. Patting Brianna’s back, she licked her slightly curving lips.

My shoulders deflated. What head hall goddess wanted, head hall goddess got. And she wanted Ian. I didn’t stand a chance.

The head hall goddess wrinkled her perfect, button nose. What’s that smell?

She turned her icy gaze on me and I sniffed. Oh, crap. Literally. There must be more than mud caked on my shoe.

"Oh, I think it’s you."

I lifted my chin. I don’t give two snoots what you think.

The goddess’s lip curled. What are you, a moron? What’s a snoot?

I didn’t know what a snoot was, because I’d meant to say two cents. I kept my chin lifted, though warmth spread from my neck to my cheeks.

When I didn’t answer, the goddess said, Oh, God, you are such a loser. She gave a delicate little snort. Come on, Brianna; let’s get away from that smelly freak. With a swish of her skirt, she led bawling Brianna down the hall.

Sighing, I slipped off my backpack and leaned against the locker. Happy birthday to me, I muttered.

Hello, Helen, murmured a low, totally sexy, very male voice.

I spun. My backpack slipped from my fingers, and I stared with my mouth agape as Ian strolled by. He didn’t stop or say anything else, but he winked one of his emerald eyes. I sagged against the locker. The sound of chattering kids, loud laughter, and slamming lockers faded. My heart pounded, and heat resurged to my face. I was still staring long after Ian had turned the corner, my mouth stuck in a half-smile.

The tardy bell clanged overhead, making me start with a jolt. I sighed, checking my wet jeans with mud spattered on the legs, and muddy, suspicious-smelling shoes. Now I wouldn’t have time to stop in the bathroom and wipe the poop off my shoe.

Running my fingers through my hair, I stuffed my backpack in my locker, raced down the hall, and tried to slip unnoticed into art class. I peeked at the seats by the windows, looking for my usual spot next to Elana, and froze. Sitting in the chair next to my best friend—my chair—was Ian. The teacher cleared his throat. I staggered to an empty seat at the back instead, and flipped open my notebook.

The kid next to me said, You smell something?

I tucked my feet under my chair, and tried to pay attention to the teacher, keep one eye on Ian whispering in Elana’s ear, and write notes at the same time.

The teacher paused, and I read what I wrote.

Through a white prism, all colors are balanced.

Whatever that meant.

I peeked at Ian. He’d bent his head low in order to gaze into Elana’s eyes. Elana giggled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. My heart took a nosedive. Ian looked at me and slowly smiled, white teeth sparkling in perfection.

I looked away and licked my lips. Elana was giggling and making eyes at Ian when she knew damn well I liked him. I ground my teeth, my stomach muscles tightening. How could she?

Wishing I was anywhere else than in that classroom, with smelly shoes and a muddy butt and my gut feeling bloated with anger and sadness and Ian whispering God only knew what to my best friend, I couldn’t help but wonder why Elana had just betrayed me.

**********

I changed into my jammies as soon as I got home from school. They consisted of shorts and tank top imprinted with tumbling kittens. Kittens made me feel warm and fuzzy. Then I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying not to move, think, or feel. When Mom called me for dinner, I dropped into my chair and pushed peas with my fork, contemplating how my life sucked.

Haley, we need to talk, Mom said.

One. Elana sucked. Until today, I’d thought she was my best friend. I’d done everything with her, following her through the school like a tail following a fox, but she turned out to be a back-stabbing liar.

Now, she added.

Two. Ian sucked. For a second, I thought I’d blipped his radar, but he only noticed the hall goddesses, which of course included Elana. And she’d noticed him.

Mom stuck her hand out. Take this.

Three. My birthday sucked. Elana hooked up with Ian today of all freaking days. All I’d wanted for my birthday was some cool clothes and a hall god for a boyfriend, and instead I was contemplating the fate of a boobless loner who owned sucky clothes and had a backstabbing BFF.

Wait. What?

I blinked at the necklace dangling from Mom’s fingers.

Is that a pearl? It’s huge. I slipped the necklace over my head and admired it. I could almost scratch the number three suck off my list.

And this, she added, handing me a block of wood.

I studied the weird faces carved into it then flipped it over. I had no clue why Mom would give me a weird statue, but I said, Thanks, Mom. I went back to admiring my necklace. I love the necklace. It’s gorgeous. Are you sure we can afford it?

Mom stalked the kitchen as if the coffee maker had been identified by the F.B.I. as public enemy number one. They’re from your birth parents.

My heart froze, and then slowly started beating as though pulsing through layers of ice. You know them?

A little, she said.

What are they like? Where are they? Do you talk to them?

Mom held up one hand to stop my questions. I tilted my head. As I’d noticed this morning, she wasn’t so put together. One side of her shirt had un-tucked from her jeans, her hair was falling out of its ponytail, and her gaze shifted around the room.

Mom put her hands to her stomach and swallowed once, loudly. I think he’s after you.

The stone, nestled against my chest, rose and fell with my suddenly shortened breathing. What are you talking about?

Your parents are dead because of him.

The pulse in my neck chanted, da-dead, da-dead, da-dead. Air. I needed air. Some guy killed my parents, and now he’s after me?

Yes. No. I’m not sure. Mom dropped into a chair and stared at my box, biting her lip.

Mom, are you sure you’re okay? When she closed her eyes instead of answering, I touched her arm. Okay, just calm down and start from the beginning. You said my birth parents are dead.

She nodded.

Were they in an accident?

Slowly, she shook her head. Murdered, she whispered.

I swallowed then licked my suddenly dry lips. Were they, like, drug runners or something?

Absolutely not! Mom snapped.

Oka-ay. I sat back. Was it one of those in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kinds of things?

It was a robbery.

The clock tick, tick, ticked. My heart seemed intent on pulverizing itself against my ribs. The silence was shattered by someone pounding the front door. Mom leaped up like someone had electrocuted her butt with a Taser.

She leaned toward me over the kitchen table, staring at me with bulging eyes. Do exactly as I say. Don’t move, unless I tell you to.

I slipped my bunny slippers off my sweaty feet. Who killed my parents? Who was the psychopath looking for me? What did I have that anyone would want? I glanced over my shoulder. Was all of this for real, or was Mom having some kind of breakdown?

"Zentu!" Mom yelled from the foyer.

The box rolled off the table and thunked onto the floor. It split open, wide, wider, gaping darkly. White fog poured out, and I smelled wet dirt.

The sound of the front door slamming against the wall, wood splintering.

Haley! Jump! Mom shouted.

My gaze leaped to the window. Why’d she want me to jump when I could jet out the back door? And why would she ever think I’d leave when it sounded like some whack job was breaking in?

Mom! I leapt to my feet.

Eyidora! Mom called.

I made to run for the door, tripped over my bunny slippers, started falling toward the foggy floor.

What’s an Eyidora? I thought, just as I plunged head-first into the foggy pool.

The sound of my chair crashing to the floor seemed very far away. Mom screamed once, and then the sound died.

Chapter Two

I was falling and falling and falling. I kicked the white shadows that carried me, the fog clinging and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t scream. Was I dead? Had the psychopath at the door killed me?

I jolted out of the fog with a bone-jarring smack. I rolled to a sitting position, rubbing my elbow and waiting for my brain to tell me something other than how my jammied butt was freezing.

Trees ... moon ... cave ... fog. With every blink, something about my surroundings came into focus. I pushed myself to my feet and let my hazy brain take control.

In the moonlight, I picked out carvings around the edges of a cave. Familiarity flickered. I was in Kent Falls State Park, far off the path where I’d discovered some old rock carvings. I studied the cave—there were no caves in the park—and squeezed my lips between two fingers. How the hell did I get here?

Wait. I stroked the carvings ... they were faces, the same faces on the box Mom had given me.

I checked around me, but I was alone. Mom?

An owl screeched, and a chill worked up my spine. I leaned forward to poke my head inside cave, but the opening zipped up with a soft zzzzt, burping a shot of air that lifted my hair.

Mom! I slapped the rock. Mom! What’s going on?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, concentrating on slowing down my heart so that I could think.

Okay, I had to be dreaming. I’d dreamt that whole door-smashing-Mom-screaming episode, and then I’d been whisked by my dream to Kent Falls State Park.

Good. I could deal. I’d just wait until I woke up. No biggy. I shivered, and rubbed my arms. It was much colder in my dream, the way fall should feel in Connecticut. I tiptoed across the clearing and peeked over the edge of a cliff, again, something that shouldn’t be there. I’d never had a dream feel so real before; the rocks pinching my feet, the breeze cooling my cheeks, the smell of the air so clean. My breath plumed in the frosty air.

"Jahme," snapped a voice behind me.

I whirled to face a guy standing right behind me. A hood shadowed most of his face, but enough moonlight caught a glint of blue eyes, glaring at me.

What is the meaning of this? he barked.

I ducked my chin, and stepped back. Instead of touching ground, my heel caught nothing but air. I flapped my arms to keep my balance. The guy yanked me by the arm, and I flew forward. My knees slammed into the ground.

Ow. What’s your...

The guy swept his hood off, and dark blonde hair brushed his shoulders. He looked down his nose at me as I stared up at him. My glare evaporated. A hint of blue seeped between the guy’s crushed eyebrows. Blue as endlessly deep as the sky right before twilight, as painfully beautiful as cupid’s arrow stabbing your heart.

Problem, I finished, the word faint, and useless.

How did you come to be on Eyidora? One side of his mouth curled as though he’d discovered he’d stepped into a pool of bat shit.

Eyidora? I felt like I’d gained a hundred pounds when I stood. Despite the angry glare twisting his face, and the snarky tone of voice, my skin tingled as though there was an electric current zipping between us. I hugged myself.

Is that not what I said? His voice held the contempt my science teacher had used when I’d refused to dissect a frog.

I brushed my jammies, secretly checking him out. He looked my age, maybe a year older. He wore a loose, brown shirt and butt-hugging, tan pants, both made out of suede that looked as soft as his body was hard. His short jacket hung open in the front, and a knife with a blue handle hung from a belt. Standing more than a head taller than me, he was just about the hottest guy I’d ever seen off the movie screen. Second to Ian, of course.

I pulled my tongue back before I licked my lips.

Answer, he snapped.

What?

A muscle in his cheek rippled.

I tugged the hem of my jammie top. Didn’t people usually dream about nice people that they knew, not total strangers who were total tools?

What is wrong? He had a slight accent; I’d never heard one like it before.

I liked it.

I’m just trying to figure out who you are, I said.

I am Tuggin.

I didn’t think I could ever forget a hall god with a name like something you’d find in a Happy Meal. An animal screeched somewhere in the dark, and the guy turned to look. His clothes were dorky, but he could have worn anything with that jacked body. He turned back to me, and I quickly averted my gaze from his butt.

He ran his fingers through his hair. A tiny hoop with small colored beads dangled from one ear. A second earring, a single black bead, had been pierced through his lobe right above the hoop. His gaze drifted away from me; across the trees, at the mysteriously-disappearing-cave-now-turned-rock, back to the trees. His eyes snapped to my face with the suddenness of a guard dog being jerked back on a choke chain. Haley.

He made it sound like an accusation, as if being Haley was some sort of crime. I crossed my arms. Yeah? So?

I do not want you here.

What an ass. His gaze snaked upward from my feet and landed back on my face. It was a movement that made me feel naked, and my body vibrated in response. I cleared my throat.

He glanced past me at the silent hillside. Jahme. Wait. He strode toward two horses standing at the edge of the trees. He marched back and flung a red backpack at me. Change your clothing. You cannot wear those ... another sweeping gaze over my body, ... things.

Another ripping shudder. Goosebumps rose across my skin. I grabbed the pack, my fingernails scraping the stiff material. They’re my jammies.

They are absurd. Change.

I calmed myself with a deep breath. I’d wake up soon, and Snarky Boy would be a distant memory. I dropped the back pack. I’m dreaming.

His cheek did that twitchy thing again. Do not be absurd. Have you learned nothing on Earth?

Plenty. I’m a junior in high school, you know.

He looked at me as though I’d just told him that the tooth fairy was his mother.

Now, I could do what I wanted in my dream. I could plant a big wet one on his lips in my dream. And he would kiss me back in my dream. He had seriously delicious-looking lips, and I’d bet he was a damn good kisser. Warmth nibbled my skin.

You will come with me. He added a sigh, as if I couldn’t tell by his tone how royally pissed he was.

I shook my head, trying to toss my thoughts back in order. He was crazy-gorgeous, but he was a major tool. Yeah, I don’t think so. See, there’s an issue with my Mom and ...

That matters not. You are coming with me.

And I’m supposed to listen to you ... why?

You are wasteful of my time. Change your clothing. Now!

And if I don’t?

He took one slow step toward me. His hand drifted to the knife, sparkling like blue fire in the moonlight, matching the blue fire that sparked in his eyes. Then you will die.

I gasped, my eyes growing wide. This was beginning to feel very un-dreamlike. Maybe I wasn’t dreaming. Maybe I’d been drugged, and then kidnapped by this knife wielding psycho. Which would mean Mom was really in trouble. I had to help her. I had to escape Snarky Boy and jet back home. We didn’t live far from the park.

I took a step back, wondering if I could outrun him. He took another step toward me, his face muscles tightening into a squinty-eyed, snarling look that could terrify the devil’s pit bull. His knife made a whink sound when it slid from its sheath.

Fine, I said. I moved toward a large tree.

Cease.

I paused, and then turned.

He pointed the knife to the ground at me feet. Remain where you are.

Heat filled my face. "I am not changing my clothes in front of you."

He narrowed his eyes, unmoving while he glared at me. I lifted my chin. Finally, he waved his knife in the direction of the tree.

I darted behind the tree then leaned against it. My gaze searched the woods, looking for the cleanest, fastest escape route.

Do not think to run. His soft voice caressed the darkness. You will not succeed.

Wait. How did he know what I was thinking? I wiggled my big toe and thought about running, and him catching me and holding that knife to my throat. Or maybe he’d just chuck it at my retreating back. That seemed more like it, the kidnapping coward.

I didn’t have a choice. I’d follow him for now, and then make a run for it at the first chance. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were, but I’d hiked off the park’s trails often enough to find my way home.

I checked out the stuff in the pack: a couple of pants and shirts, shoes, soap. My cheeks burned when I saw the bra. Digging deep inside, I finally accepted that there wasn’t a single pair of socks. The guy coughed in the darkness. I started to change.

I snapped the bra into place, and made a face. It could have used a little more help from my chest to fill it out. The clothes were seriously soft to the touch. When I slipped them on, I nearly sighed, but the look was ruined: the long sleeves inched past my wrists, and the pants brushed the ground. These clothes weren’t meant for me. Maybe Mom had been the guy’s intended target. No wonder he was pissed, even though I wasn’t the one who’d screwed up the kidnapping.

I slipped on the soft-soled shoes and these, too, were a little big so that when I walked they rubbed the backs of my heels. Now I looked as goofy as that guy, except I was going to flop around like a clown while he strutted around looking all hall-goddy.

Why would he kidnap Mom anyway? We had no money for a ransom, unless my necklace was worth something. Was this the guy Mom was afraid of? Did he have something to do with killing my parents? My fingers turned cold. I stuffed my jammies into the backpack.

My nose flared at a metallic smell, and the hair on the back of my neck stiffened. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and my ears rang from the rolling boom that followed when it slammed into the ground. The ground woke with a sick shudder, nearly rocking me off my feet. Curling my toes in the too-big shoes to keep them on, I stumbled toward the clearing. The horses nickered, and swung their heads. The guy was nowhere to be seen.

Now was my chance. I bolted for the woods. A flash of lightning halted me, lighting the sky with a network of electricity and sending electric fingers skittering over my scalp. It struck the hillside, tearing through stone. Small rocks pinged down the side of the mountain. Boulders hurled through the air, and pummeled the ground.

My breath, escaping in short spurts, matched my heart beats. I clutched my chest with both hands. Forget running. I had to hide.

Lightning struck another thundering blow at the mountain. The ground heaved. I spread my legs and flung out my hands to steady myself, but I was launched backwards. The back of my head cracked against a tree.

I shook my head to clear the spots dancing in front of my eyes. A tree burst into flames. Sparks scattered in the air like a cloud of fireflies. The ground split, inhaling the fiery tree with a loud whoosh before snapping shut.

I scratched at the tree behind me. My body was drenched in sweat, my eyes burned from the smoke. The tree wobbled; I screamed as it pitched toward me.

The guy dragged me by my hair across the dirt. I tucked my head in my arms, a gust of air, leaves, and dirt rushing over me. And then silence. My head throbbed, my teeth chattered. I lay there, panting.

Haley.

His voice ran like warm honey over my shredded nerves. I peeked through the hair hanging over my face. The guy knelt in the dirt, watching me. A cut from his forehead leaked a trail of blood down one cheek. What was his name? Something weird, like tofu, or tugboat. Tuggin.

I spit out dirt. I’m all right. Not that he’d asked, but I felt better saying it.

Rising to our feet, we surveyed the chaos. Trees crisscrossed the tilted ground, and boulders sunk into the dirt like gravestones.

Was that an earthquake? I wished my voice didn’t sound so Chip-and-Dale-ish. I’d lived in Connecticut all my life, and we’d never had an earthquake like that; an occasional tremor maybe, but nothing that rocked you off your feet.

Be silent. Be still.

I rubbed my scalp where Snarky Boy had pulled my hair. He left me to climb over trees and boulders.

He came back with a black backpack. The sleipnir have gone.

You mean the horses?

Ignoring my question, Tuggin poked around the place where I’d changed. He picked up the red pack, pulled out a jacket, and tossed it to me. Put it on.

My brain was numb. I did what I was told. When I finished buttoning up, he flung the backpack to me, but my reaction-time was slow. It bounced off my chest and fell to the ground before I moved my hands.

Tuggin turned. Follow me. Do not fall behind.

Wait! I clamped my legs together to stop their shaking.

His gaze slid down his nose and captured mine. Follow me.

But my mom ...

I would be more concerned with your safety than hers.

His words weren’t in sync with his lips, which had a woozy effect on me as they spun through my mind. I swayed toward him.

You must come with me, Tuggin said. Now.

A desire to obey him welled inside me. I concentrated on blinking, willing my lids to slowly close. The mesmerizing connection between our gazes broke, and my head cleared. No.

Tuggin’s eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flared. With one swift movement, his knife was pointed at my throat, and the cold pinch of steel triggered an avalanche of ice down my spine.

You will come with me, now, he said.

I lifted my chin. I would not keep gulping in shaky breaths. I would not pick up that backpack. I would not go with him.

Of course, in the end, I did all of those things.

Chapter Three

I looked at my naked wrist, and rolled my eyes. How long would it take before I remembered I’d lost my watch during the quake? Trees hid the moonlight, making it too dark to see the rocks that I kept tripping over. Boulders too big to climb kept blocking our way, forcing us to leave the path. Tuggin finally took the lead to carve our way through the thick bushes, but branches continued to yank my hair.

My heels were sore, and my toes cramped from trying to hang on to the shoes. I’d started to limp, but Tuggin didn’t seem to care at all. He was like a machine, keeping up a pace that made my legs throb.

Deep in thought, I didn’t see Tuggin stop and I plowed into him. He stumbled, shooting me with a glare.

Sorry, I said.

He chopped his hand in the air to silence me. I peeked around him. A field rolled out ahead of us, and on the other side were more trees. The pack’s straps rubbed my shoulders; I pushed my fingers underneath them so I could massage the sore spots.

What’s up?

Tuggin didn’t look at me when he said, "When you are with me, you do as I do. That means keep up and keep silent, tenya. It is not difficult."

My name’s Haley.

He shrugged.

I plunked down on a fallen tree with my chin in my hand. Where are you taking me?

That is not your concern.

My brain flipped through our earlier conversation. You’re taking me to Eyidora, aren’t you?

Eyidora is the fifth globe of the planetary chain. You are already on Eyidora.

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right.

Tuggin glared at me. Eyidora is home to the Eyids.

I pulled a twig out of my hair and tossed it over my shoulder. What are Eyids?

Nature’s gods.

Oka-ay, I murmured. What was that religion that worshipped nature? Wicca? Was he a witch? If you say so.

I do.

I’m no astronomer, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such planet called Eyidora in the solar system.

Earth’s solar system is the first globe in the planetary chain. You are not in Earth’s solar system. You are on Eyidora.

Okay then, let’s just say that I decide to play along with this game and believe I’m on another planet. I snorted so he knew how stupid I thought the whole idea was. How’d I get here?

The gateway.

I was supposed to believe that load of shit? He’d drugged me and dragged me into the woods, and now he was feeding me a line about gateways and non-existent planets. What was his game?

You forgot one important thing. I paused to swallow the lump that had grown in my throat. My mom.

I know nothing about her.

I do, and she’s going to be looking for me.

Tuggin went back to studying the sky.

She’s not going to let you get away with this!

She cannot stop me.

She’ll call the police. They’ll stop you.

Earth-kin police are of no use to you here. You passed to Eyidora. All memory of you on Earth has been erased. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me. No one remembers you, not even your mother.

I leapt off the log. Listen to me, you assh—

Does it matter? he interrupted. She was not your birth mother.

I froze. He couldn’t possibly know that ... yet he did. My moment of surprise melted. "You jerk. It matters to me. I stomped my foot. I want to go home."

You enjoy inhabiting a globe of metal?

Look, you don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here. I grabbed his arm. Let me go home. I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise.

Tuggin stared at my hand. I snatched it back.

It is too late. You cannot return to Earth. Ignorant girl, he muttered.

You seriously expect me to believe I just got bounced to another planet, and that my Mom has forgotten me?

Yes.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I think you’re full of crap.

Tuggin’s eyebrows shot together before he turned his back on me. I care not what you think.

I checked our surroundings. The cave, the cliff, the field ... none of these was a part of Kent Falls State Park, at least, not the park I knew. And then there was that earthquake.

You mean I’m not dreaming any of this?

Tuggin whirled, eyes wide and face tense. This is no dream. You are Haley Allaire from the fifth globe of Eyidora.

I’m from Kent, Connecticut, and my last name’s Roble.

You were borne Eyidoran; however, fifteen years ago you were conducted through the gateway to Earth. You have returned.

He spoke as though he really believed we were on another planet. My mind flipped through the night’s events and what I’d seen. The box, the fog, the cave, the earthquake. None of those things were ... right. I held my breath. Eyidora. Wasn’t that the word Mom had screamed before I’d fallen? A tremble worked through my thighs.

Crap. I was beginning to believe him. I rubbed my eyes. Think! Okay, so if I’d been born on Eyidora, maybe Mom was wrong about my parents dying. Maybe they were still kicking it here, on Eyidora.

Are my parents here? I couldn’t believe I was asking the question, as if it was a normal occurrence to fall through gateways and land on parallel worlds.

They are dead.

The words dropped like bricks at my feet. Just like that. No I’m sorry or I hate to tell you this. I hated him. I wanted to dig those beautiful blue eyes right out of his head, but opted for a good dose of glaring instead.

Do I have any other family?

Tuggin held my gaze. Net.

What does that mean?

No.

I wanted to sag back onto the tree, but forced my legs to hold me up. Why are you kidnapping me?

I do not understand.

It means you’re taking me against my will.

I have come to your aide.

I snorted. Seriously? You call threatening me with a knife helping?

I could not leave you, and you are stubborn. Besides, where would you go?

I rubbed my tongue over my teeth, surveying the trees. I had no clue where we were, or where I could run to. What a mess. I tried one last time. Home.

I have told you. You cannot return to Earth.

I looked around anyway, hoping to find something that looked familiar.

We must keep moving. When I didn’t move, his hand moved to his knife. After you, he said, nodding toward the field.

Fine.

My feet felt as heavy as my heart. It seemed as though I’d been dumped on a strange world, all alone and a prisoner of Snarky Boy.

**********

Later that night, Tuggin stopped in a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. I collapsed on the ground, yanked off my shoes, and checked out my feet. There weren’t any blisters, but they were red.

Tuggin picked up a branch and swept fallen pine needles into a pile. When he pulled blankets from his backpack and spread one over the needles, I realized he’d made a bed. Did he expect me to sleep with him? Would he hurt me? I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

Tuggin dropped onto his bed, ignoring me.

A sense of relief loosened my tongue. We’re sleeping outside?

Naturally.

You’re sixty watts short of a light bulb if you think I’m sleeping in the dirt. What if there are poisonous spiders? Or ticks? Haven’t you ever heard of Lyme Disease?

Tuggin closed his eyes. Make do, tenya. And do not think to leave during the night. I shall know if you try.

Fine. I picked up his discarded branch and swept up my own pine needles, except that my pile was loaded with pine cones. When I looked up, I caught him watching me, but he quickly turned away.

Ignoring Tuggin’s muffled snort, I plucked out the cones and tossed them aside. Wrapping myself in the scratchy blankets from my pack, I laid down. I tried to stop them—I wanted to stop them—but the tears came anyway. I shoved my face in my blanket, trying to muffle the sound so that Tuggin, the biggest tool on Earth—oh, excuse me, Eyidora—wouldn’t hear.

**********

I couldn’t sleep, though I’d been pretending for at least an hour. I thought Tuggin was asleep; his chest rose in an easy rhythm, with his hands folded on his stomach. Where was his knife? I couldn’t see it, but my guess was that he kept it close by.

I rolled up my blanket and tied it to my pack. I’d gone to bed with my shoes on so that I could jet at a second’s notice. I tip-toed toward the woods. I’d reached the edge of the clearing when Tuggin spoke.

Going somewhere?

I froze for a nano-second, then dropped my backpack and bolted. Branches slashed my face. I stumbled over rocks, but I sped on. It wasn’t long before Tuggin tackled me, slamming me to the ground.

Let me go! I shouted.

He flipped me over, crushing me with his weight, compressing my lungs with his forearm so that I couldn’t grab air.

Let go!

I tried to kick him, but he pinned my legs with his own. I sucked in a breath, the strength radiating from his body doing more to crush my resistance than fear. His knife flashed so close to my face the chill of steel paralyzed me.

I warned you, he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to slice my neck. Instead, he hauled me to my feet, and dragged me back to camp. I twisted, pulled, dug in my heels, but he was too strong. Clamping one hand around my wrist, he dug into his pack and pulled out a length of rope.

What are you doing? I asked.

Tuggin looped the rope around a tree then started tying it around my wrist.

I jerked back. I don’t think so.

He grabbed my wrist, crunching my bones in his grip, and finished tying the rope.

You can’t tie me up. I yanked against the rope, and it tightened like a noose.

Do not struggle, he said. The more you resist, the tighter the knot.

Blood rushed to my head and pounded against my eardrums. I swung at his face with my free hand. Tuggin caught my wrist, and shoved me against the tree. His cheek muscles rippled, and his nostrils flared. He was very close, so close I could feel heat radiating from his body and smell his scent, like coconut oil basting bodies on a sunbaked beach. However, the ice emanating from his eyes dispelled any warmth.

Fear strangled the breath in my lungs. Please, don’t hurt me.

Tuggin lifted his chin with the big breath he inhaled. He slowly exhaled, leaned so close that his breath skimmed my ear. Then do not tempt me, he murmured.

He ripped the blankets off my pack and chucked them at my head, then flung himself onto his bed. I slid down the trunk, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and pulled my knees to my chest. I tensed my muscles, trying to stop the trembles. The air chilled the sweat on my face.

I whipped up a daydream about Ian to compensate for the lone tear trickling down my cheek. I’d bet a single kiss from him could whisk me away to another world. I clenched my teeth. I’d already been taken to another world, and hey—newsflash!—it sucked.

Chapter Four

Something poked my shoulder. I ignored it, wondering why I had a major the-sky’s-falling kind of depression in my gut.

Go away, I mumbled.

When the poking didn’t stop, I cracked open my eyes to find a Greek God towering over me. Tuggin. I leaped to my feet, the rope tightening around my wrist.

You sleep long, he said.

Untie me, I said. My hand’s numb.

You should not have attempted to untie it. He worked on the knot.

I had, with my teeth and my free hand. The rope had gotten so tight I’d thought my hand would turn blue. I didn’t.

Indeed.

Once free, I backed away from him, rubbing the red ring around my wrist. Unfortunately, Tuggin appeared even better-looking in daylight than he had in moonlight. He kept running his hand through his hair, mussing it in a very sexy way. I tried to comb my fingers through my hair, got caught in the tangles, and then gave up. I sighed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d tumbled through some secret gateway to some God-forsaken world, or because I’d been kidnapped by a hall god that was so painfully out of my pathetic league.

Is something wrong? he asked.

No offense, but I was kind of hoping that last night didn’t really happen.

You are absurd.

Fine, it hadn’t been a dream, and apparently the nightmare lived on.

Tuggin went to huddle over a small fire. He poked the coals with a stick, and the little flames sent snuffs of smoke into the air. It was cool, so I kept the blanket wrapped around me. By daylight, I could see the trees’ dull, wrinkled leaves. Most were brown, though there were some faded colors of red, gold and orange. Occasionally one twisted loose and fluttered like a stray piece of confetti.

Tuggin nodded toward my legs. Why do you move that way?

Now that he wasn’t so pissed off, his eyes seemed oddly dull, and I wondered what made them seem so lifeless.

Haley?

I blinked. What?

Your legs move like sticks.

My feet hurt. And my legs. And my back.

Why is this?

From all the walking and tripping and sleeping tied to a tree.

You are not strong, he declared, handing me a tin plate.

I’m not hungry.

You will eat to keep your strength. He jammed the plate into my hands. I have no desire to carry you.

Heat spread to my cheeks at the thought of Tuggin holding me in his arms. I grabbed the plate. What’s this?

Tuggin took his plate to a rock and sat. A rare treat, he said, scooping a forkful of glop into his mouth.

"Yeah, okay, but, what is it?" I sniffed. It was probably rare because people were afraid to eat it.

Eggs.

Did you know they’re orange?

Tuggin swallowed another mouthful. They are eggs of the fire bird.

Why are they rare? I asked, hoping they weren’t orange because he’d been carrying them around in his backpack for months.

The fire bird lays eggs only during Quadralune.

Whatever a Quadralune was, I didn’t ask, because Tuggin shifted so that his back was toward me. I hunched by the fire, took another sniff, and then a small nibble. They weren’t like normal eggs on Earth, from normal chickens, but good. I stared at the fire, ignoring Tuggin and wishing for ketchup.

When I finished eating, Tuggin ordered, Pack. It is time to depart.

I stuck my tongue out at his back. I rinsed my plate with water from my canteen, and then stuffed them into my pack and tied on the blankets.

I kept quiet as we marched, watching the ground, aware of his footfalls close behind me. I had no idea how long we’d been walking when Tuggin took the lead so he could hack at bushes that had overpowered the path. I noticed that occasional rays of sunshine had a way of turning strands of his hair a gold color. Tuggin stopped and, momentarily lost in thoughts of running my fingers through that silky gold, I bumped into him. I winced when he turned to glare at me.

Sorry, I said.

One corner of Tuggin’s lip curled. Are you always so awkward?

Are you always so rude?

Tuggin grunted and sat, leaning against a tree. I slipped the pack off my shoulders and sank to the ground. I kicked off my shoes so I could check out my heels. The red spots had turned into blisters.

Tuggin pulled a couple apples out of his backpack and tossed one to me. After raising his eyebrows at my bare feet, he ignored me.

I rubbed the apple on my shirt. How’d you know who I was when I came through that gateway?

Tuggin hesitated, and then he murmured, I saw it.

You can see the future?

Tuggin didn’t respond.

Oh, nice, the silent treatment. What was he, like five? Does your mother know what you’re up to?

He gave me a withering look.

What about your family? Are they as shady as you?

Tuggin gazed at me with no expression.

A funny warmth tickled my stomach. His face, even grumpy looking, stalled my thinking. I needed to say something before I forgot how to talk completely. I cleared my throat. You know, family? The more he stayed silent, the more I babbled. Brothers? Sisters? Parents? A dog?

Jahme! A muscle in Tuggin’s jaw moved when he clenched his teeth. Death has taken them.

Oh, sorry.

Tuggin studied the trees. Even though he acted like a tool, I felt kind of bad for him.

What happened? I asked.

Enough! Your mouth rattles like nuts in a wooden bowl.

I rested my head on my knees and pretended I was anywhere but there. I’d rather have the silent treatment than be called stupid. Not that he’d actually called me that, but his actions spoke quite clearly on his behalf.

He sighed. I shall return. He picked up our canteens, hesitated, and then took out the rope.

I turned my head away. Don’t bother. I’m not going anywhere.

After a moment he dropped the rope. I will hunt you down if you do.

Vowing to never make the mistake of feeling sorry for him again, I leaned against a tree. I pressed my palms to my eyes so that I wouldn’t cry.

Thwump.

My eyes snapped open. A small white bird lay by my leg, four colored plumes sticking out of its head.

I scrambled to my knees. I reached out, and then stopped when its tiny chest heaved. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.

It blinked.

Are you hurt?

Its wing flitted up, and then rested against its side.

Is it your wing?

The bird struggled to raise its head. With a small chirp it flopped back to the ground.

I can’t leave you here. You’ll die.

I bit my lip, looking over my shoulder. Tuggin for sure would have a snarky fit if I adopted a hurt bird, but I couldn’t leave it here to die. Maybe I could hide it in my backpack.

Don’t worry, little bird. I got your back.

You passed the test. Its beak clicked when it spoke.

Freaking shit! I reeled back, falling onto my butt. I crab-walked backwards until I hit the tree, and then leaped to my feet.

The bird flitted to a branch near my head. I can help you, if you want.

I scrambled to the other side of the tree. I rubbed my eyes, and then peeked through my fingers. You talked!

Yes, of course. It dipped its head, shaking the plumes.

Birds can’t talk.

I do.

The creepy bird hopped closer. I darted back to the other side, and peered around the trunk. Shoo! Go away!

That was rude. Do you want my help or not? it asked.

It wasn’t like it could hurt me, well, except for its beak. I’d heard stories of birds pecking people’s eyes out, and I rather liked the idea of keeping mine. Help with what?

There is a secret. I can tell you what it is.

How’s that going to help me?

The bird shook its plumes. Do you want to know or not? It seemed to take my hesitation as agreement and continued. Sometimes, woodpeckers build their nests with a magic herb.

Magic?

You will see the minds of gods.

Gods?

You will open gates.

Gates? I felt dumb, repeating its words, but—hello!—I was talking to a bird.

You will gain power if you have this herb.

My heartbeat drummed in my ears. What kind of power? The power to kick Tuggin’s ass and escape? The power to go home and make Mom remember me? My heart didn’t beat so much as tremble. I had to get that power.

Power can be deceiving, it said. Do you accept this gift?

I nodded. Lead the way, Birdie.

Chapter Five

I picked dried leaves from the ground, and then frowned at the tree. The lowest branch was at least two feet over my head. If I wanted that magic herb, I’d have to climb the monster towering in front of me, and I hadn’t climbed a tree since I’d fallen out of one when I was seven years old and cracked my head. I’d needed fourteen stitches. Cramming the leaves into my shirt, I stretched on my toes and grabbed the nearest branch.

My hands slipped, and I fell onto my butt. I glared at the tree as if it had chucked me to the ground on purpose.

The bird sat on a branch. I haven’t got all day.

I grabbed the branch again. Bracing my legs against the trunk, I walked up the side. I hooked one leg over the branch, and swung myself upward. Leaves leaked from my top and drifted to the ground. Crap, I hoped I’d have enough now.

My arms trembled while I hauled myself up, taking one branch at a time. I glanced down; I was really high up. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hugged the branch, and leaned my cheek against the bark. I suddenly wanted to pee.

The bird perched next to my face. If you’re afraid, just say so and I’ll be on my way.

I’m not scared.

Prove it. It clicked its beak.

I tightened my legs, and reached for the next branch. The scaly bark scraped my skin, and a nail bent back when I grabbed it. I stuck the finger in my mouth and tried to suck out the sting.

Are you quitting? the bird asked.

No.

A breeze stroked my forehead. I tilted my head back, squinted, and then smiled. 

Score.

Clasping my feet together so I wouldn’t keel over, I pulled leaves from my shirt and shoved them into the hole.

Tuggin’s voice shot from below. What is this foolishness?

I started, and one butt cheek slid off the branch. My stomach plummeted to my feet, and my heart shot to my throat. I hugged the tree when I looked down.

You got eyes, don’t you? I’m stuffing this woodpecker hole with leaves. My sarcasm might have had more impact if I didn’t have my face flattened against the trunk.

Come down. Now.

I wanted to, but my muscles had frozen. Give me a minute.

I unglued my arms from the trunk, and grabbed the branch above me. I moved downward, one branch at a time, testing each one with my foot, trying not to look down ... looking down was bad, going down was bad, but falling down would be worse.

Haley.

Tuggin’s voice slid into my thoughts, like a tongue gliding over lips. My focus slipped, then my control, then my grip. I scrambled to catch a branch, bonked my head, and toppled backwards. My back slammed into the ground, the impact forcing a loud hoof out of my lungs.

Tuggin dropped to the ground next to me. Are you injured?

I tried grabbing a breath. Failed. No. Just. Wind. Knocked out ... of me.

He leaned over me. Are you certain?

Tuggin’s breath skimmed my face and I lay in a state of whiffing hyperventilation because he smelled so damn good. My nerves tingled, my stomach muscles squeezed. Gasping, I pushed him away, and struggled into a sitting position.

Rubbing the back of my head, I said, I’m fine.

Why would you do something so absurd?

The bird told me to. I got to my feet, and picked at a sliver in my hand.

That is absurd. Tuggin crossed his arms over his chest. Where is this bird?

I pointed. He’s right over ... I searched the empty tree, my arm dropping to my side. He was right there, and he told me if I filled the nest with leaves he’d bring me something.

That is absurd, Tuggin repeated, with a smirky twist to his lips. Birds do not speak.

On retrospect, it did seem kind of absurd. The dumb bird had lied to me, and now I looked psycho. Could this day get any worse? I muttered,