Ben’s jaw tightened. We both understood what might happen if the delicate magical ecosystem around Silver Hollow’s interdimensional crossing collapsed. The portal seemed to have stabilized somewhat over the past few weeks, now that the griffin had returned to its world and the shadow stalkers had been banished, but my mother and grandmother were still trapped on the other side. If something happened to destabilize the current delicate balance, they might be cut off forever. And that was assuming the dimensional barriers didn’t rupture completely, which could unleash God-knows-what into our world.
“How far?” he asked, his gaze moving toward the trailhead.
“Maybe two miles northeast. The old-growth section near the portal.” I had to stop and lean against the wooden trail marker post as another wave of electromagnetic distress moved through me. This time it carried images with it, fragments of sensation that didn’t translate cleanly into human experience. Fire that wasn’t fire. Wings that caught starlight. A cycle interrupted, broken.
Wrong.
Ben’s hand was warm and steady on my elbow, and I could sense his electromagnetic signature as clearly as I felt my own heartbeat. That was new, or at least more pronounced than it had been. Over the past few weeks, I’d become increasingly aware of the way Ben’s bioelectric field resonated with mine, creating a kind of harmony that amplified my abilities when he was close. It should have felt invasive, having someone else’s electromagnetic presence so intertwined with my own. Instead, it felt like finding the other half of a circuit I hadn’t even realized was incomplete.
Was that why I’d had an almost immediate connection to him, even when common sense had told me the last thing I needed right now was a relationship?
“Sidney, if you’re already bleeding, maybe we should — ”
“I don’t have a choice.” I straightened and met his gaze, trying to project far more confidence than I felt. “Whatever’s out there, it’s calling for me specifically. I can feel it reaching toward my abilities, trying to guide me. If I don’t respond….” I shook my head. “I don’t know what will happen if I don’t answer it, but I can feel how wrong this is. Whatever’s going on, this isn’t supposed to be happening.”
He studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him weighing the risks, calculating odds the way he always did. At last, he nodded. “Okay. But we’re doing this smart. I’ll monitor your vitals and the electromagnetic readings. If things start going sideways, we’ll head for home immediately. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I lied. No matter how much this might mess me up, I knew I had to find the source of pain in the woods and do whatever I could to make it right.
We moved faster after that, following game trails I knew by heart even in the dark. The forest pressed close on both sides — Douglas firs and coast redwoods that had stood here for centuries, their presence solid and reassuring in the chaos of the electromagnetic storm battering my senses. Under normal circumstances, I would have been able to hear the trees’ slow conversation through their root networks, the gentle electromagnetic dialogue that connected every plant in the forest. Tonight, however, that background symphony was drowned out completely by the dying creature’s distress call.
Ben kept pace beside me, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness while he periodically checked the EMF reader clipped to his belt. The device beeped urgently every few seconds, its readings spiking with each pulse of electromagnetic energy. I could feel his concern like something physical against my skin, but he didn’t try to slow me down or suggest we turn back. He trusted my judgment, even when I wasn’t sure I trusted it myself.
“The frequency patterns aren’t like anything I’ve seen so far,” he said after we’d been walking for maybe ten minutes, his breathing only slightly labored despite the steep terrain. “It’s not random interference. There’s structure to it. Almost like some kind of communication.”
“It’s calling for help.” I had to stop again as my nose started to bleed more profusely. The tissue I had clutched in one hand was already soaked through, so I shoved it into a pocket and pressed my sleeve to my face instead. The nylon fabric came away dark with blood, and I wondered absently if I’d ruined it forever. “Whatever is out there, it knows I’m coming. It’s trying to guide me.”
Ben pulled a clean bandana from one of his many jacket pockets — the man was like a walking camping supply store — and handed it to me. “Here. Save your sleeve.”
Probably too late for that, but I pressed the bandana to my nose anyway and kept moving. The electromagnetic pull was getting stronger, which meant we were close. But it also felt as if it was getting more chaotic with each step we took. I didn’t know what was out there, but I could tell it was losing its ability to maintain the signal.
Losing strength. Dying.
“We need to move faster,” I said, and broke into a jog despite the rough terrain.
“Sidney, wait — ”
But I was already running, bandana still pressed against my nose as I followed the invisible thread that connected my abilities to the source of the distress call. Tree branches whipped at my face and arms, and roots tried to trip me. I didn’t care, though. The creature’s pain was my pain now, resonating through every nerve in my body, and the only way to make it stop was to reach it.
Behind me, I heard Ben curse and then the sound of his boots pounding on the trail as he ran to catch up. His flashlight beam bounced crazily through the trees, creating shadows that seemed to leap and writhe.
The forest around us grew denser as we pushed deeper into the old-growth section. Some of the trunks of the trees around us were so wide that you could drive a car through them, their bark deeply furrowed and scarred by centuries of fires and storms. The canopy overhead was thick enough that even my powerful flashlight barely penetrated more than a few yards ahead.
I’d been in this section of forest before, but never at night, and never while running at full speed through the darkness. Back then, I’d only wanted to explore as much of the woods as I possibly could, to let myself be alone with the trees. I’d had no idea that one day, my strange abilities would be able to sense the way those trees communicated with one another, how their bioelectric network was as strong as anything we humans could build.
“Sidney!” Ben’s voice was sharp with alarm. “Your hands — look at your hands!”
I glanced down and immediately saw what he was talking about. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably, and even in the dim light, I could see how they’d gone fish-belly white, almost gray. The electromagnetic overload was affecting my entire nervous system now, disrupting the signals that controlled muscle coordination and blood flow.
This was bad. This was worse than any overload I’d experienced before. If I pushed much harder, I’d risk permanent neurological damage.
But the creature’s distress call pulsed again, weaker this time, and I knew I didn’t have a choice. I could deal with the consequences later. Right now, someone — something — needed help.
“I’m okay,” I said, which was such an obvious lie that Ben didn’t even bother to respond. “We’re close. I can feel it.”
The terrain leveled out as we reached a section of forest I didn’t immediately recognize. The trees here stood in an almost perfect circle around a clearing, their branches creating a natural cathedral overhead. Starlight managed to penetrate the canopy here in a way it didn’t anywhere else, creating a pool of silver illumination in the center of the clearing.
And in that pool of light, something glowed with a fitful orange fire, a large bird with its head drooping against the ground.
