The Jeep had been abandoned for quite awhile. Leaves littered the floor, and wasps had built combs across the ceiling that buzzed ominously when he peered inside. The keys are still in the ignition. The tailgate is open. The hatch is empty… except for a guitar pick. Scott smiled. “Forgot something, didn’t you, Zach?”

Now he was sure. Twelve years before while interning with a team of Monitors in New England, Scott Cairl had trudged through this same forest to a site the locals called Candlewood – a simple hunter’s cabin, long since deserted.

Back then, he hadn’t noted the area’s wild beauty; he’d been focused on the shadows ahead and what might lay in wait. It was different now. Dina’s presence here made everything more vibrant. She could be hearing these same birds, seeing these same rays of sunshine, breathing this same Indian summer air. If memory served him, she was still more than two hours away. But she was close now, close.

When did I fall in love with you? he asked her. She didn’t answer. But that was all right. He already knew.

* * *

At sixteen, Scott Cairl was the youngest member of the expedition. As a Consult’s son, these Monitors had been forced to accept him on the team, but as a newcomer, they expected him to keep his opinions to himself. Naturally, he didn’t.

“Left,” he shouted to Gallerno. Dan glanced back, but otherwise ignored him. Scott hoisted himself over a low ridge. “It’s off to the left,” he repeated, this time trying not to sound like he was giving an order.

“Based on?” the sector chief asked.

“Neutron pulses,” Scott answered reasonably.

“The charge is disseminating. There’s no way to identify direction this late in the occurrence.”

“For most psys, that’s true.”

Scott was out of uniform, as they all were when working on the Outside. For the Brown leading the team, Scott might as well have said, “Piece of cake for a Black like me, jackass.”

Daniel Gallerno wiped his forehead on his sleeve, and glanced at the two remaining team members who had slowed to eavesdrop. “Look, Scott. It’s been a long day. Even if we can find the site within the next thirty minutes, assess the situation quickly, and hoof it back in double-time, it’s going to be after dark before we reach the truck. I really don’t want to waste time on a hunch.”

“No hunch. Go left.” Scott held eye contact and added a message for Gallerno alone: someday i am going to be your boss dan let’s make it a good working relationship shall we.

“Okay,” Gallerno called out wearily, “let’s see what Mr. Cairl is worth. That way.” His hand sliced the air to the left, and the team turned.

Two hundred yards later tendrils of smoke appeared. Another hundred, and Welborn stumbled upon the first piece of debris: a charred wicker basket with a child’s shirt clinging to the inside. By then, they knew where they were heading. Flickering flames low to the ground were visible through the trees. The vibration in Scott’s chest was now a painful whine.

Greg Reagan saw it first. “Jesus,” he groaned.

Gallerno waved them to a stop. Debris was everywhere: a soup kettle, a pump handle, a handful of clothespins, slabs of tree trunks shattered into jagged bricks of wood, a wrought-iron door handle. It was becoming increasingly difficult to walk without tripping over large hunks of wreckage. Decade-old trees were canted to the side as though hammered by a killer wind. Leaves smoldered overhead. Closer in, the limbs had been stripped bare.

“What the…” Gallerno said. “Ever heard of anything like this, Cairl?”

Scott had crouched down to examine the flames snaking across the turf, and had missed the break in the man’s voice.

“This has got to be Black motivated, right?” Gallerno’s voice cracked again. This time, Scott caught it. The sector chief was scared.

“Beats me,” Scott began. Then he stopped.

At the far edge of burning grass was a circle of bare earth. No rubble. No brush. No bits of clothing dangling from the trees. Even the smoke that smudged the air around him seemed to have been blown away up ahead. Wait, what’s that? When he stood, the image became clear: a blackened ring of flooring and to one side, a scattering of bones. “Uh,” he grunted. Huddled down in the center was the soot-covered figure of a child.

The whining in Scott’s chest ceased. A pair of jeweled eyes peered at him from the dirty face.

Reagan and Welborn lurched forward at the same time. “My god,” from Greg. “Will you look at that?” from Sara. Scott threw up his hand to stop them. The child hadn’t moved, but he could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was about to run.

everyone stand down.

As the strongest psy on the team, they heard him easily. The child, however, did not react.

can you hear me?

She held his gaze, but showed no sign that his thought had reached her. Did she have a wall? One so strong, he hadn’t pierced it? He knocked gently at the unseen barrier.

are you okay?

At the first probe, he saw her stiffen. At the third, she stood.

“We won’t come closer,” he called to her. “You don’t have to run.”

She turned away. Scott felt her violet eyes leave his face like ice crystals sliding off a warm window. She looked down at the pathetically small cluster of bones alongside her feet, and her tiny hand reached out to them. It balled into a fist. Then reached again.

“Stay there. I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” Scott promised. Then he took a calculated risk. “I won’t let anyone bother her either.”

If he was wrong and the small skeleton was not a woman, Scott might never regain the girl’s confidence, but the day was waning and he needed to make something happen soon. The tactic paid off. The little girl tipped her head and peered at him. Then she twisted her neck and shot a look over her shoulder.

is someone out there? Scott asked her.

She stooped, hugged her knees with her skinny arms, and returned to gazing at the bones.

Gallerno lifted a finger to signal the team’s lone woman to move in, but Scott halted them both. The chief’s face hardened. He was about to overrule his upstart intern.

That’s when the little girl nodded. Slowly. Almost imperceptibly. But an unmistakable nod. Once down, then up. Gallerno surrendered again, giving Scott a grudging tip of the head. The youth now had carte blanche to run the show.

Scott’s heart quickened. He took a handful of cleansing breaths and let his charge build.

don’t worry, he reassured the huddled figure. i will check the woods. Then he took another calculated risk that the thing she feared was male. i won’t let him near you.

She didn’t respond, but Scott thought he saw her arms tighten around her knees.

i am moving now to look for him i will be right behind you. He had been about to add, “Everything will be okay,” but thought better of it. No lies, he advised himself.

Scott stepped forward. drop back and fan out along this side, he advised Gallerno. if something goes wrong grab her and run. He added a postscript specifically for the child. but only if she needs protecting.

As he entered the woods at her back, the scent of seared meat suddenly clogged Scott’s nose and filled his throat. Was it from the denuded skeleton in the clearing? A few steps in, he came across a man’s loafer. More debris like the child’s shirt? Or had it been blown off someone’s foot? Without touching it, he glanced inside. A swatch of dress sock was melted to the heel.

Cairl stood up, intently focused and alert. The smell of cooked flesh was stronger. Stepping onto a beaten path, he moved deeper into the woods. A few minutes later, he picked up the sound of rushing water. And a groan?

The vibration he had felt in his chest earlier had come back, so faint at first, he hadn’t noticed it. Now it was a steady high-pitched hum bordering on a scream. Scott picked up his pace. Someone was hurt. Possibly dying. The urge to run was strong. The desire to help undeniable. I’m coming, he promised.

yes come.

Scott Spencer Cairl came to an immediate stop. Bad, he thought without cause. Don’t move.

help, a thought called. come.

“No,” he whispered. His eyes searched the gloom. The saliva dried in his mouth.

please.

Someone was watching him. In front? Behind? Circling to the left? Creeping up from the right? His lungs tightened, squeezing out his last breath and refusing to admit another. The girl, he thought with alarm.

no.
no.
no.

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he said to his unseen watcher. “Yes.” Then the teenager turned, bent low, and ran as though a life depended on it.

By the time he burst into the clearing, he had already sent orders to the team, heading them away from the site, away from the smell of scorched corpse and the sound of distant water, back toward the truck at top speed. He had also ordered them away from the child. The watcher who wanted her was much stronger than they were, perhaps stronger than Scott.

The little girl was standing now, facing him unafraid as he barreled toward her, her thin body a precarious stack of arms and legs dolled up in a limp party dress, her feet tucked into paten-leather shoes and lacey anklets, her soot-colored hair floating about her head in a cloud of static electricity. I’ve got you, he pledged. I won’t let you get hurt. Just before he scooped her up, her arms lifted trustingly.

Then all hell broke loose. The angel he held clutched against his chest stared into his eyes. Opened her mouth. And screamed. No one heard her, of course, because the scream was a thought. But the shriek ricocheted inside Scott’s head, nearly knocking him senseless. Her hands balled into fists, pummeling him in the mouth, the nose, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes. Her feet in their hard little shoes flailed against his thighs. But it was the heat she was generating that took him completely by surprise. He nearly dropped her before he could boost his wall to its highest level to hold back her terror, her anger.

He could read no coherent thoughts from her brain, but her desire to be released was clear.

no, he told her.

no, he ordered the presence losing ground behind him.

no, he kept repeating over and over as he pinned her struggling body to his chest, running as fast as he could for the trees, for the truck, for the safety of his underground world so very far away.

mine, he said to himself − said to the watcher − said to her. forever mine.