By the time I made a sharp left on Lilac Lane, an unpaved, rutted road, the dark images had faded. Still, I was left with a stark fear.

When I slipped through the iron gate of Nona’s driveway, my fears eased. The weathered yellow house had been my touchstone since I was little, a haven where nothing could get me. I loved Nona’s cozy farmhouse, with its big wraparound porch, rambling red barn, cows, goats, horses, chickens, dogs, and cats.

Ten acres of tangled woods stretched far behind the pasture, bumping up against new developments. Sheridan Valley used to be a quiet farming town, but its central location made it an easy commute to Stockton or Sacramento and the population had skyrocketed. Still, it maintained a slow pace and country charm, and I’d been truly happy since moving here. Even with upscale houses squeezing in from both sides, Nona’s home was my paradise.

And there was Nona. Crouched on her knees in the garden, a wide straw hat shading her deep-lined face. She’d done so much for me: taking me in when my parents sent me away, holding me tight to heal the hidden hurts.

Watching her tend her garden, I longed to rush into her comforting arms. She knew all about visions and predictions. She would understand my anxiety more than anyone. But I couldn’t confide in her—because of the lie.

Sighing, I avoided Nona by doubling around to the back of the house. Since there was no one I could talk to, I’d purge my demons with loud music and a bath of scented bubbles.

As I hurried up the wooden steps, chickens squawked out of my way and a white cat with mismatched eyes regarded me solemnly.

“Don’t give me that look, Lilybelle. I’ve had a bad day and I don’t need any of your attitude.” I patted her silky fur and pushed open the screen door.

There was an odd scent in the air—musty and a little wild. As I made my way through the laundry room and kitchen, I tried to identify the unfamiliar odor. It reminded me of a sunny morning after a summer storm. Fresh, light, but also a little sultry. Had Nona concocted a new herbal carpet freshener? She only used natural cleaners and remedies like crushed pine needle shampoo, goat’s milk soap, and a honey rose-petal elixir for sore throats. The smell grew stronger as I walked down the narrow hall, which was decorated with family pictures: Mom as a baby, my parents on their wedding day, and portraits of Nona’s three deceased husbands.

A sloshing sound stopped me cold.

From the bathroom. But that wasn’t possible. Nona and I lived alone.

I started down the hall, but then doubled back to the kitchen to grab a broom—not that I’d need a weapon, but it wouldn’t hurt. Holding it out in front of me like a sword, I moved cautiously down the hall. The bathroom door was open a crack, and through it I could see the sink, filled to the top with water. And perched on the silver faucet was a large bird. A falcon! Why was a falcon taking a bath in my sink?

But the bird wasn’t alone.

When I saw the shadowy figure by the hamper, I was so startled I dropped my broom. The bird screeched and ruffled its powerful wings. Before I could scream, the shadowed person lunged for me. He slapped one arm across my shoulders and clamped down over my mouth with the other hand.

“Shush!” he ordered in a harsh whisper. “Don’t make a sound.”

I struggled, hitting and jabbing with my elbows. But his grip was firm. He dragged me away from the bathroom. My shock switched to anger. How dare this guy attack me in my own home! I kicked him in leg as hard as I could.

He grunted with pain. “Cut it out!” he cried.

I kicked again, and when he jerked back, his hand over my mouth loosened, so I bit down. Hard.

“HEY! That hurt!”

“Good!” I squirmed and slipped out of his grasp. “I hope I drew blood.”

“Geez, you bite worse than a badger.” He sucked his injured hand. “Nona was way off when she told me about you.”

I backed against a wall. “You know my grandmother?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“You tell me! And what’s with the bird?” Hugging myself, I stared, really seeing him for the first time. He was youngish, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He was a few inches taller than I was, maybe five-foot-ten. He was wiry, with muscular arms, sandy-brown hair and eyes like silver-blue mirrors. His jeans were dark, and he wore an unbuttoned, brown flannel shirt over a faded blue T-shirt.

“He’s a falcon, and he got oil on his wings, so I brought him inside to clean up. Sorry if I scared you,” he said.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“I didn’t want you to startle Dagger.” He glanced toward the bathroom where I heard a soft swish of water.

“You own a falcon?”

“Wild creatures can’t be owned. But he trusts me. If you’d screamed, he would have panicked and hurt himself. Hey, relax. I’m not going to attack you.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said sarcastically. “I am so reassured. What do you call what just happened? A friendly handshake?”

“Hey, I’m the one bleeding.” He held out his hand, where a reddish half circle of teeth marks contrasted his tanned skin. Blood trickled from the deepest mark.

I ignored his hand and gave him a sizzling look. “Explain yourself,” I demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him.”

Whirling around, I saw Nona. She still wore her wide-brimmed straw hat and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

“You—you did?” I stammered. “But why?”

“Dominic is going to stay here to help with repairs and care for the animals.”

“Why hire someone? I can help you.”

“Not in the way he can. So stop scowling and welcome him, Sabine.” Nona smiled. “Dominic is part of our family now.”