Page 5 of Shadow of Spring (Wild Haven 2)

3

Lena

Nightmares plagued me all night until I finally gave up and got out of bed early enough to see the sun rise from my living room window. Wild Haven Island is a spectacular sight all year round. Spring has just arrived, and everything is trying to bloom, but it’s not quite there yet. Soon the trees will be full of leaves again. Flowers will overflow from window boxes and the pots outside people's front doors. It’s my favorite time of the year. The promise of renewal and growth speaks to the buried optimist in me.

My apartment building is in the oldest part of town. Most of the buildings in the downtown area were built in the traditional colonial style, my own apartment building an example of the simple architectural structure. In the late 1800s, a fire tore through half the island, setting many of the old wooden houses ablaze in a matter of minutes. This place made it through, along with most structures on Aspen Street. Many of the houses that didn’t survive were rebuilt in the Queen Anne and Gothic style.

The unique blend of architectural history is just one of the things I love about my home. Wild Haven has a lot of bad memories for me, but I’ve also spent years building friendships and replacing those horrible times with good ones. After graduating high school, I thought I wanted to escape. That I had to get away in order to find myself. I left for college and missed this place every day I was gone. My mind was never far from what my brother, my friends, and Archer were doing with themselves while I was supposed to be living life and growing as a person.

Deciding to move back here was the easiest and hardest decision of my life. I never felt a truer, better decision than coming home. And yet, there are still things from my past that trigger anxiety and cause a flare of panic to rear its ugly head. One of them being the sheriff, otherwise known as my father. We stay away from one another by some unspoken agreement. As long as I don’t have to see him, I’m happy with where I am.

At least I used to be. Now everything is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know how to feel. Miri and Davis bonded. Anthony Hatcher is trying to form an Axis to open a portal into Fairy. All the stories we grew up hearing, they’re true.

I’ve dedicated my life to learning and digging up as much history about this island and the Fae mythology that’s part of the land here. Except, it’s not really a myth, is it? I have Fae blood somewhere in my ancestral line. All of my friends do.

It’s only seven in the morning, but I’ve already been up for hours. The three cups of coffee I’ve had are making me jittery. I can’t sit in my apartment any longer, scrolling through Netflix endlessly without making a decision about what to watch.

I throw on a t-shirt, leggings, and a fleece pullover before grabbing some socks and pulling on my sneakers. I’m not a runner, but I love walking through the woods whenever my brain won’t settle. There are walking trails all over the island, and I’ve probably explored most of them over the years. Popping in some headphones, I turn up my music and tune out the rest of the world. I hurry through town until I reach the edge of the Fae Woods.

It’s funny. The entire island plays up a supposed connection to the Fae. The coffee house I live above is called the Sidhe’s Cup, for God’s sake. While I’ve read the island lore and pass it along to tourists who ask about the history here, I never fully believed it. Which is stupid because I always knew magic existed. My dad talked about it far too often not to know about it. For whatever reason, I never wanted to fully buy into the Fae stories, dismissing them as a marketing ploy the island came up with years ago. No chance of denying things now.

It’s cool out this morning, but not as cold as it’s been recently. Mist hovers just above the ground in the woods, making it feel like another world. I don’t have a destination in mind, but let my feet lead me as my mind gets lost in the music blasting in my ears. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been walking as I enter a clearing in the woods. I’ve been here many times before. There’s a natural circle that’s always intrigued me. The only thing that grows here is thick green grass and a smattering of small wildflowers. When I was little, I used to come here and look up at the sky, watching fluffy clouds tumble by as I found a short-lived peace.

It’s not surprising I’ve brought myself back to find some tranquility. Only that’s not what happens. Instead of the thick bed of pristine grass, there’s a large circle burned into the ground. It’s at least ten feet wide by ten feet long and it's perfectly spherical. The faint scent of ozone lingers in the air, like after fireworks burn through the sky, but there’s no hint of smoke from the charred grass.

I yank my headphones out of my ears, as if I need to hear something, the faint buzz of my music still playing until I click pause. I step toward the circle but immediately stop when a pulsing wave of… energy is the best way I can think to describe it, ripples outward. Stumbling back, I look around, realizing there’s no chatter of birds, no hum of insects in the woods. It’s eerily silent.

Coming out here alone was a mistake.

A chill creeps down my spine and I rub my arms like that might take it away. Archer was adamant last night that he would walk me to work today and that’s only a few blocks through town, not a jaunt off into the woods. I’ve been so lost in my dark contemplation, and rattled by my nightmares this morning, that it never even occurred to me not to go for a walk in the woods like I often do. I’m not normally so flighty and careless.

Something is off here. I don’t know why I instinctively came in this direction, but I have the feeling something is pulling me here.

I scan the clearing, looking for any other signs that someone has been here. Not like the giant circle burned into the grass isn’t a big enough clue. What on earth caused the earth to be charred like this? There’s temptation to walk inside the circle just to see what happens, but I’m smart enough not to test that out. Especially since the hum of energy coming from it is making the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Almost as if there’s an electrical charge in the air.

The woods around me are still quiet and it’s disconcerting. Normally, I don’t even hear the background chatter, but now that it’s gone, it’s glaringly absent. A flutter catches my attention at the edge of the clearing, just where the grass turns back into the woods. As I approach, I make out a piece of paper. Squatting down, I frown at the thick page that looks like it’s fallen out of an old book. The paper is cream colored but aged so much it’s turning yellow. There’s a symbol and writing on the side facing up.

Giving in to my need to know all things, and my love of the written word, I pluck it up from the ground. Electricity shoots up my hand and arm, and I nearly drop the paper with a gasp.

“What in the world?” I murmur to myself and stare down at the page. It’s slightly damp from the dewy grass, and it hurts me to think that it might be ruined. Doesn’t matter that I don’t know where it came from.

A twig snaps in the woods nearby and I spring up. Something urges me to shove the page beneath my fleece, and I barely get it hidden away before someone steps into the clearing. My stomach sinks and my jaw throbs with a phantom remembered pain. I’m like Pavlov's dog. I’ve been trained to feel a fist to the face at the sight of the man in front of me.

Sheriff Marsten. My father.

He’s in uniform, though he’s rarely out of it if he’s not at home. He looks so much like me and Rhys. I hate it. We have his same raven’s wing black hair. The kind that catches blue highlights in the sun. His sharp cheekbones are also shared by us, but thank the sun and the moon, that’s all. He’d probably be considered a handsome man if his soul wasn’t so foul. I can’t see anything but an oily residue that stains his very essence.

I blink a few times and rub my eyes because that's actually not just a metaphor. There’s a faint outline around my father and its edges are tainted, dipped in black. That’s never happened to me before.

He stomps out of the brush, eyes narrowing as they land on me. “What are you doing out here?” His words are rife with accusation.

“I was just out for a walk.” I take a step back. My voice is quiet and lacking conviction as I respond. I hate that he can still reduce me to a weakling, taking me back to being a child at the mere sound of his voice.

“Come back to the scene of the crime? What were you playing at last night?” My dad steps closer, his feet right at the edge of the burnt circle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shake my head, subtly slipping my phone out of my pocket.

“Whatever you were doing, someone saw you. They reported the flash of light.” His eyes narrow as he scowls at me. I’ll never understand if he hates us, or if he’s simply evil. “You think I don’t know what’s happening on my island?”

---