Odd. Sounded vaguely occult, but I couldn’t place the name.

The pages shook.

I stilled.

The fringe at the edge of the rug jumped. Earthquake? But it wasn’t steady. It stopped and started again.

Something rumbled in the distance, like a cosmic bear waking from a long winter nap.

I lifted my gaze to the wall of windows and the mountainside beyond.

Not an earthquake. Landslide.

“Lon!” I shouted, turning to run. But there wasn’t time. The sunlight behind me was eclipsed by a growing shadow that increased in size until it blotted out all the light in the room.

Then it exploded.

Splintered wood and dry earth.

I caught the scent of both as the massive boulder smashed through the wall of windows and turned Wildeye’s bed into kindling before ripping through the floor in front of us as if it was made of butter.

“Cady!”

Lon rammed into me. Boards cracked. The room tilted. For a moment, I thought we were going to slide into the hole. Then a joist snapped in two, and the entire floor collapsed, along with my stomach. One second I was upstairs, and the next I was rocketing downward with Lon through a cloud of dust.

A sofa broke Lon’s fall. Lon broke mine. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Everything seemed to be vibrating inside—my nerves, bones, teeth. Wood and plaster and glass rained over my back as he covered my head with his arm. When it stopped, we both gasped for air at the same time.

My ears rang. I coughed up plaster dust while attempting to stand, but Lon was holding on to me like grim death. I was terrified he’d broken his back or neck. “Lon—”

“I’m okay,” he said through a cough.

I barely had a chance to feel relief as another rumble shook the house. It sounded like the whole damn mountain was coming down. Adrenaline fired through my limbs. We pushed off the couch and stumbled over broken boards into the kitchen.

Another rock roared through the living-room wall.

“Out!” Lon shouted, grabbing my arm to shove me toward a door.

I didn’t even think. Just shouldered into it like a human battering ram and broke the whole damn thing down. Believe me, I couldn’t have been more surprised when it exploded off its hinges, but I didn’t have a chance to wonder how.

Morning sun blinded me as we burst from the rubble into open air. It took me a second to get my bearings. We’d exited through the cabin’s side door, where Lon’s SUV was parked—I almost ran into it. And by some miracle, it was unharmed. But not for long.

The driveway quaked. I glanced past the car toward the mountain. Nothing but dust and cascading rocks. A wave of destruction tumbling from the heavens and blanketing Wildeye’s backyard in stone.

The driver’s door swung open, and a hard hand shoved me into the SUV. I half sailed, half scrambled over the center armrest, banging my head in the process. I’d never seen anyone start an engine so fast. Dirt flew from the wheels as Lon threw it into reverse and swung the car around. Metal crunched. I yelped as my head bounced against the headrest.

“Shit!”

He’d hit a boulder. Or a boulder had hit the SUV. Either way, it was in back of us—not in front—and the back window was still intact. Teeth rattling, I twisted in my seat in time to see a giant oak crack and sway toward the back of the house. It crashed into the roof with a massive boom!

“Go, go, go!” I shouted.

Lon slammed the SUV into gear and tore down the driveway like a bat out of hell. In seconds, we were speeding onto Diamond Trail, away from Armageddon.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lon repeated several times, staring wide-eyed at the road ahead. After sobering up a little, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Considering? Yes, I think so. What just happened?”

“Hell if I know. Did we set off a ward?”

I knew what he was thinking: the putt-putt golf course last fall. But that was strange Æthyric magick etched in pink light, not earthly white Heka. I would have definitely noticed something like that in Wildeye’s house. The warding magic he’d used in the closet was an oldie-but-goodie spell, nothing all that special. A kindergartner could cast it—at least, I could when I was that age.

“I didn’t see anything. And no warning whatsoever,” I said. “Are there a lot of landslides out here? Could it have been a coincidence?”

“You don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I’m willing to start now. Slow down. I see a car over that next hill. I don’t want it to look like we’re fleeing a crime scene.”

“We are.”

“But we didn’t do that!”

He grumbled and slowed to a speed barely under a reckless-driving violation. The car I’d spotted was now cresting the hill and turned out to be a truck. The truck belonged to a park ranger. Orange warning lights flashed as it sped toward us, sending a fresh flood of panic into my brain. It took me a couple of seconds to realize the ranger had zero interest in us. He passed us and continued on his way. Headed to the landslide, I supposed.

Lon banged the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. “All of that for nothing.”

“You didn’t see anything in the files?”

“They were all several years old.” He flashed me a glance. “How did you knock down that door?”

“Adrenaline?”

“You snapped a fork in two, and you ripped the lock off the patio door.”

And nearly knocked the leg off the table in the diner, but I didn’t say this. “You think it might be part of the moon magick, some kind of Superman strength?”