Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 9

What to read after Ilona Andrews

Ilona Andrews is one of my favorite authors…or, actually, two of them. This husband/wife duo create the perfect blend of action, fantasy, and romance in their Kate Daniels (straight urban fantasy with a side of shifter), On the Edge (urban fantasy/paranormal romance mixture), Hidden Legacy (straight urban fantasy with a witchy cast), and Innkeeper (sci-fi-ish urban fantasy) series.

If you haven’t already, you should definitely read them all. But then what do you dive into? Here’s what some of their fans have to say:

Patricia Briggs gets the most votes. (Even before I throw my vote in there — I might possibly like Briggs’ books even more than Andrews’, although it’s a tough decision.)

Anne Bishop is a close runnerup. It took me forever to look past the cover and try out her Others series. But when I did I was blown away!

Nalini Singh is a sister author if you like a little more romance.

And after that it’s a tossup of whether you should move on to Faith Hunter, Devon Monk, Seanan McGuire, Jim Butcher, Rachel Aaron, or Karen Marie Moning. Or any of the dozens of other authors whose books fill urban-fantasy bookshelves today.

In fact, it made my day when a reviewer compared my Moon Marked series to Ilona Andrews. Maybe someday I’ll live up to that compliment! In the meantime, I’ll just keep reading their witty prose.

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Hopeton Earthworks archaeology tour

I took a break from writing fictional prehistory so my husband and I could tour a real, live archaeological site this weekend. And, of course, I came away awash in facts and guesses about what made these ancient people tick.

The site in question is Hopeton Earthworks, located just across the river from the contemporaneous Mound City Earthworks in Chillicothe. In fact, our guide — Dr. Bret Ruby — suggested that we should really think of these two areas as facets of the same site. Mound City was used for burials while Hopeton appears to have been used a “World Center shrine.”

That analysis is based on the work of modern Native Americans, who speak of sites like this as being models of the universe. Specifically, the long double line at the bottom of the picture above represents two quarter-mile earthen walls that point to sunset on the winter solstice. This seasonal focus is common at similar sites, like the Calendar Mounds at Fort Ancient. Dr. Ruby suggested that Hopeton Earthworks may have been built as an “earth naval” meant to capture or channel the power of the solstice sun.

That part is guesswork, but there was plenty of rock-hard data present…quite literally. This summer, the archaeologists are excavating the remains of earthen ovens, which are currently found via machinery that senses magnetic anomalies in soil. In the past, these same ovens were often discovered by walking across tilled farmland and looking for fire-cracked stones like the one shown above.

What’s a fire-cracked stone? Let me back up and explain about earthen ovens. Hopewell people dug pits in the soil, filled them with wood, lit fires, then piled stones on top. The stones sucked up the fire’s heat then released it more slowly, often cracking along weak points in the rock in the process. The result is stones with multiple flat faces like the one pictured above. You don’t usually find this shape in non-human-impacted areas.

At the Hopeton Earthworks, fire-cracked rocks are very common, but they aren’t found everywhere. Instead, people appeared to keep their cookfires at the edge of the raised terrace that encircles the site, out of the floodplain but far enough away from the earthworks so they weren’t muddying the sacred with the profane. In other words — no trash in church!

There was, however, trash in the ovens…and archaeologists were excited to find it! The flint bladelet above was found the same day of our tour, the prismatic cross-section proving that the knife was knocked off a core using a very specialized Hopewell technique. This particular blade never got utilized, but our leader said that similar blades were used to shave hair into elaborate hairstyles. Fashion was a thing in Ohio in 0 BC.

So was art. The reflective shard on the other side of the deer bone in the image above is a chip of mica that might have been discarded while making ceremonial objects like images of birds and hands. Mica isn’t commonly found in Ohio, however, so this shiny rock would have been carried in from the mountains of North and South Carolina.

How did mica — and other distantly sourced materials like shells and obsidian — make its way to Chillicothe? I’d always understood that the Hopewell people had a farflung trade network. But Dr. Ruby made the excellent point that materials clearly moved to Ohio, but none seemed to make their way back out. Wouldn’t trade result in Ohio flint and other materials being discovered in North and South Carolina (among other places)?

Instead, our guide suggested two hypotheses for how this mica arrived in the Hopewell epicenter. Possibly Hopewell people went on long journeys, bringing home materials like mica to be incorporated into their ceremonial sites. Or perhaps Native Americans from other parts of the continent traveled to Chillicothe just like my husband and I did, bringing gifts of their local mica in exchange for viewing the sun through Hopeton’s quarter-mile earthen tunnel.

There’s so much more to share (like wood-henges purposefully dismantled and mounded over to hold power in the earth). But I’ll end with one last factoid:

The clear quartz crystals sometimes found at Hopewell sites were tied as the hardest materials in the Hopewell world. What was the other material in first place? Beaver teeth!

Okay, now back to work on my novel. Olivia was in quite a bind when last I visited her. I guess I’d better help her out.

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Animism and petroglyphs

I dropped by Leo petroglyph again Saturday, this time with enough leeway so I could walk the nearby trail.

Just below the petroglyph, a stream runs through a stunning gorge full of fascinating rock formations, lichens, mosses, and liverworts.

Which got me thinking — are all of our landscapes as breathtaking when left to their own devices? Or were Native Americans purposefully setting their constructions alongside beauty the same way we erect informational signs at overlooks within national parks?

Animism is the belief — widespread among many native religions — that every tree, rock, and place contains a spiritual essence. Assuming that the people who created Leo petroglyph ascribed to this belief, doesn’t it make sense that they would use their mounds, effigies, and petroglyphs to call out the existing power/beauty of natural spots?

When considered this way, our obsession with preserving mounds is a bit like aliens coming to earth, blasting the Grand Canyon, then turning nearby signage into protected monuments. It’s possible we’re missing the point….

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Fort Ancient musings

My husband, my mothers-in-law, and I spent an illuminating afternoon at Fort Ancient yesterday. Unfortunately, our brains grew saturated before we made it halfway through the museum, and we didn’t get to spend nearly enough time walking through the astonishing earthworks either. But I saw enough to get my mind whirring, which will have to do for now!

This two-thousand-year-old site was created during a 400-year period then was used for another hundred years after that. Up on a bluff above the Little Miami River, the first step in construction involved moving tons of earth to fill in ravines like this one…using hand-woven baskets, elk antlers, deer shoulderblades, clam-shell hoes, and wooden digging sticks.

Then a 3.5-mile-long undulating curve of wall was created, along with indented ponds on the inside. To give you an idea of the scale of this endeavor, the amount of earth moved at the Fort Ancient site amounted to 221,000 full-size pickup-truck loads. If construction was ongoing throughout all four seasons every day of the 400 years in question, that amounts to 1.5 pickup-truck loads moved daily. A serious undertaking for a society in which people lived in small family groups!

Early European settlers assumed these walls were fortresses, but scientists now think they may have been sites of religious ceremonies, athletic competitions, or other cultural events. The Calendar Mounds and the newly discovered Moorehead Circle are evidence of one potential use.

Used in conjunction with intentional gaps in the encircling earthworks, the Calendar Mounds line up with sunrise at the solstices and with various astronomical events. Archaeological evidence suggests that the Fort Ancient people built bonfires at the site of these mounds, perhaps to create balance with the rising sun. The Moorehead Circle was a woodhenge (like Stonehenge, but built out of wooden posts) that may have had a similar function.

Unfortunately, everything we decipher about two-thousand-year-old people who left no written record is guesswork. Could the Fort Ancient earthworks relate to earlier evidence of shamanism in which bear and wolf skulls were carved into ceremonial masks? Were the ponds part of the ceremony or simply inevitable depressions that resulted from moving so much earth? How many people came to Fort Ancient, how often, and why? Why do Fort Ancient’s earthworks take on such an organic shape while contemporaneous sites in valleys enclose perfect circles and squares?

It’s easy to ascribe deep spiritual significance to people we will never meet or know. But walking through a different park the next day and coming across modern cairns created by bored college students, I had to wonder how much of the stunning Fort Ancient earthworks is mystical…and how much is simply the result of humans with time on their hands wanting to leave their mark on the landscape.

After all, hunter-gatherers tend to have more leisure time than the average modern American. Without television and facebook to fill that time, did Fort Ancient people naturally gravitate toward building undulating walls and limestone-capped mounds?

Unfortunately, we will likely never know. Still, the Fort Ancient earthworks is well worth a visit…or two, or three!

Six more months of great books

There’s something about the tight story structure of a great novella that snags my interest even though short stories often aren’t my cup of tea. Which is a long way of saying — two-thirds of my recommendations this time around are novellas. I hope you like the format as much as I do!

Romancing the Werewolf, How to Marry a Werewolf, and Romancing the Inventor by Gail Carriger are all delightful, but the first one I listed is probably my favorite. These are all set in her steampunk world.

Here There Be Monsters by Meljean Brook is a really fun short set in the Iron Seas world.

Beast by Christine Pope is a very hooky sci-fi romance (and free on Amazon at the time of this post).

Okay, enough of novellas. On to longer works!

Sweep of the Blade is the fourth book in Ilona Andrews’ Innkeeper Chronicles. If you haven’t read the others, you’ll probably want to start at the beginning (although this book follows a side character and may be understandable anyway). If you have read the others, though, now’s the time to read the newest installment free on their website before they take it down to polish for publication. Spoiler: it is a delight!

Polaris Rising by Jessie Mihalik is quite possibly my favorite book of the last six months. It slid right into that sweet spot between space opera and science-fiction romance where you get a happily ever after at the end of a lot of fun adventure. Highly recommended.

Finally, if my recent release sucked you into archaeological mysteries, here’s a recommendation (although without any fantasy or werewolves, alas!). Site Unseen by Dana Cameron sucked me in…and is currently free with Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy!

Birds of ancient Ohio

Mound City in Chillicothe, Ohio, is one of the best remaining examples of Hopewell Culture.

One of my favorite things about Ohio is the remnants of Adena and Hopewell cultures protected as parks or just waiting to be stumbled across in the woods. Yes, I’m talking about the 10,000 mounds scattered across the state, all dating from one to three thousand years ago.

Birds were used on everything from pipes, beads, pottery, and copper plates to more unique examples like the human bone (top) and turtle-shell-turned-comb (bottom) shown here.

What we mostly don’t see unless the mound is connected with a museum is the beautiful art hidden beneath the dirt. Mounds cover the sites of ceremonial buildings which in turn cover the sites of cremations…and funerary objects are often cached nearby.

Jarrod Burks finds it interesting that many of Ohio’s most common birds aren’t represented on Hopewell art.

Jarrod Burks of Ohio Valley Archaeology, Inc. was interested in the fact that about half the figures on Hopewell creations were birds. And not just any birds — the species portrayed tend to be large, colorful, and/or powerful like hawks, vultures, and owls.

The Roseate Spoonbill’s brilliant pink feathers would have been a unique addition to the regalia of Hopewell people. Here, a spoonbill rides a fish on a tobacco-smoking pipe.

Nowhere is this more true than on the tobacco-smoking pipes broken and cached together in two nearby sites — Mound City in Chillicothe and Tremper Mound about thirty miles away.

The two mounds in question were created within one hundred years of each other (which means the pipes could have all been made by the same artist or family). But it’s impossible to know why birds dominate the pipe landscape and why hundreds of pipes were purposefully broken then buried beneath a newly formed mound.

The beautiful artistry of these pipes was combined with other features denoting their importance. This owl has pearls for eyes, and the base has been mended with copper.

Archaeologists can guess, of course. They think that birds might have been revered because of their ability to visit the heavens, a realm humans can’t reach. Specifically, they suspect the many different types of birds portrayed on the Hopewell pipes were personal power symbols — a totem spirit that you’d peer at every time you smoked tobacco during a ceremony.

And why would everyone’s spirit animals be ceremonially smashed and buried at the same time? Your guess is as good as mine!

News, news, news!

First of all, I realized I never explicitly told you that Wolf Dreams is live! If you’re on the fence about giving it a try, here are some reviews to change your mind:

A smart, educated, amazing lead female character with a few flaws…both funny and relatable — Summer Rain

Fast-paced and laced with mystery and suspense — Tamara Kasyan

Sparks fly as danger ensues in epic proportions — Kaye

Angst, drama, emotions and romance with a bit of mystery thrown in — Robin Smith

Full of excitement and humor and fun — LHill

My new favorite from Aimee Easterling — Shadowcat

If you’d rather listen rather than read, the second book in my Alpha Underground series is now available as an audiobook. My narrator tells me that book three will probably be out in June. (And, if you missed it, book one is available in audio as well.)

Finally, don’t be shocked if you see Shiftless with a new cover. I’ve loved all of this book’s covers (with the possible exception of my homemade effort on the far left), but there’s a reason books get a facelift every few years. Readers who’ve decided they don’t want any part of a book might give it a try with a new cover, and styles change over time.

To cut a long story short, Shiftless has a new look and the rest of the series will soon as well. I hope you enjoy the update!

Ravens and wolves

Did you enjoy Olivia’s pet raven in Wolf Dreams? Adena was originally meant to be a crow, but my husband talked me into turning her into a raven as a tribute to my Poe-loving father. Then, after writing the book, I discovered that wolves and ravens have an important relationship that likely goes back thousands of years.

In The Mind of the Raven, animal behaviorist Berndt Heinrich traveled to Yellowstone National Park just like I did but with a different goal — to figure out why wolves and ravens are so often found together in the wild. What he discovered appears to be a true symbiosis, with both species coming out ahead.

Ravens have the more obvious benefit, counting on wolves to break through tough hides so they can get to the good parts of carcasses. The birds also seem to crave the protection of a big burly wolf to make sure a passing predator won’t snap them up while they dine. No wonder ravens often show up soon after a wolf howls and hang out with wolves even while they play and rest.

On the wolf side of the coin, high-flying ravens can be handy at finding weak animals that will be easy to slaughter. In his book Brother Wolf, Jim Brandenburg tells about ravens finding a dead bear (beaucoup meat, impossible for them to access) then yelling until wolves arrived to tear the hide open. Ravens also act as sentries at carcass sites, noticing interlopers and waking wolves from their naps to chase competitors away.

“I can sneak up on a wolf,” a filmmaker told Heinrich, “but never on a raven. They are unbelievably alert.”

In fact, some scientists think that wolves and ravens consider each other family. When wolf pups are smaller than ravens, their parents don’t mind big black birds hanging around the den site and tugging on the youngsters’ tails even though they’d quickly drive any other animal away.

Perhaps that’s why I subconsciously chose a raven as Olivia’s first pack mate?

Wolves in Japan

At a pull-out during my recent Yellowstone wolf tour, one of our guides ended up chatting with an expert on Japanese wolves. The story relayed was so fascinating that when I got home I had to fact check and share.

The tale begins long ago when wolves were revered in Japan. The dictates of Buddhism had led to a human diet that was largely vegetarian (with fish sometimes added to the plate). Wild animals were occasionally hunted by the lower classes, but livestock were few and far between.

In this landscape, wolves were helpers rather than hinderers. Two subspecies — the Japanese wolf (Canis lupus hodophilax) on the southern islands and the Hokkaido wolf (Canis lupus hattai) on the northern island — dined on deer and boar that ate/tore up rice and vegetable fields. No wonder wolves made their way into myth as friends rather than foes. In fact, the people of the northern island sent dogs in heat into the forest to breed with wolves in hopes of adding more lupine traits to their domesticated stock.

The tone of the story shifts in the late nineteenth century when a Japanese emperor decided to ditch a dependence on rice farming and fishing and try out American-style ranching. Wolves and livestock are a tricky combination. Soon, wolves turned into pest creatures and were exterminated.

Fast forward ahead to the modern era, when scientists began sequencing the DNA of the few stuffed specimens of Japanese and Hokkaido wolves left in museums. In the process, they discovered that the shrimpy Japanese wolf had arrived in Japan — as you might expect due to proximity — from Asia.

On the other hand, the larger Hokkaido wolves were more closely related to a North American subspecies. Scientists now believe that these leggier wolves migrated westward along the Bering land bridge about 9 or 10,000 years ago, not long after humans headed in the opposite direction onto the North American continent.

Both subspecies, unfortunately, are now very much extinct. However, you can see wolves a lot like the Hokkaido wolf along the coast of British Columbia, since scientists believe the more northern Japanese wolf subsisted just like these do on a diet of marine and terrestrial prey at the edge of the water. Not so different from the ancient Japanese people who once called these wolves friends.

Wolf Dreams: Chapter 3

(If you’re starting on this page, please click here to return to the beginning so you don’t miss any of the story.)

“Then this isn’t yours.”

The words should have been a question, but they weren’t. Instead, they were a statement of ownership even as he slipped the silver chain that had recently been around his neck over my head.

The saber-tooth-cat fang tapped against my nose as it lowered from my forehead to my chin then continued its way downward. Calloused skin grazed my cheek as his hand retreated. And I couldn’t seem to stop my fingers from cupping the heavy artifact that seemed to burn through my sweater with borrowed heat.

“No, it’s not mine,” I answered, even though the fang felt right hanging there. Even though the weight around my neck seemed to lift me up rather than bowing me down.

The men on either side of me exchanged loaded glances. “She isn’t…” started Prince Charming.

“Doesn’t matter,” answered Mr. Wolf. Then, spearing me again with his unbreakable attention, he introduced both of them in rapid succession. “Claw.” This was himself. “Harry.” A thumb jab in the direction of the fairy-tale prince.

“Olivia,” I replied, somehow needing him to know my first name even though a second ago I’d been trying to rush him out the door.

“O-liv-ia,” he repeated, the word seductive and warm in his deep rumble. For a moment, we were suspended in the lull that followed. Then: “We need your help.”

Yes, anything. I wasn’t sure if that was me or the monster. But I somehow managed not to speak the words aloud.

As if responding to my caution, Claw raised his eyebrows at Harry. And the latter accepted the conversational ball as easily as he’d dropped it in the first place. “Ma’am, we work for the President.”

“Of the university?”

Adena cackled a throaty laugh at my confusion while Harry corrected me. “No. Of the nation. As you may have noticed, Jim Kelter…hasn’t been feeling quite himself.”

This made no sense. “I’m not a medical doctor,” I pointed out, although my gaze remained focused on Claw. “My PhD is in archaeology. I study cave paintings, ancient artifacts, and old bones.”

“Like this?” Claw’s finger almost grazed my breast as he tapped the fang he’d given me. But his motion was careful, calculated. Only air slid across my sweater to impact the underlying skin.

I shivered, knowing there was no point in explaining that a bone and a tooth were slightly different in molecular structure. No one would care about biochemistry when dealing with an erratic head of state.

“Yes,” I started. “But…”

“Then we need you.” Claw’s voice reverberated through my bones like the beat of a drum.

He smells like home, the monster inside me whispered, forcing my body to lean forward and inhale a deeper whiff of his woodsy scent.

And the monster’s mirroring of my own feelings slapped me back to reality. I couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by a sexual fancy that would send my mental health floundering.

Plus: “You look out for you,” my father was fond of saying. “Everyone else is doing the same.”

Our nation’s President had dozens—hundreds—of people on staff to ensure his well-being. I had myself…plus Adena when she felt like obeying my commands.

Rationally, I was making the right decision. So I wasn’t sure why it hurt so badly to deny Claw’s request.

“I’m afraid I can’t help,” I answered, snapping my fingers at the raven. She landed on my shoulder with the weight of disappointment, head swiveling to peer behind us as I strode out of the room.

***

There was a student waiting for me in the hallway when I headed back to campus to deal with my inherited mess after a quick stop home to swallow my meds and toss the cat tooth into my kitchen junk drawer. Adena had also demanded a bite to eat, and I’d changed my shoes because my feet were killing me. To cut a long story short, by the time I rounded the corner and found the freckled class perfectionist waiting for me, I was running quite a bit behind.

He was bundled up against the winter chill, head bowed in a manner that promised our interlude wouldn’t be brief. Still, I smiled and welcomed him. “Joe.”

“I know this isn’t your office hours….” The sixteen-year-old freshman started apologizing the moment I came into view.

“Don’t worry about it.” I dug for my keys in my bag then took a look through the narrow office-door window as I fumbled with the lock. Inside, the piles of my predecessor’s jumbled-together stuff looked taller than when I’d left them. Great.

I was a slob at home, but I liked my workspace tidy. So it had been a bit of a shock when I’d arrived at my office a week ago to find the room full of unlabeled artifacts related to Blackburn’s specialty—the first humans to grace the North American continent. There were stacks of scientific journals by the hundred on the same topic. And, off in one corner, an odd mass of wires and chemicals must have had something to do with a hobby; it certainly made no sense to my archaeological eye.

Even Adena’s perch had been shunted out of the main thoroughfare. The raven cawed annoyance at leaving the center of attention, but she still fluttered off my shoulder and onto her wooden foothold as I ushered Joe inside.

“Tell me about your paper,” I nudged him. The freshman was brilliant, but he required a fair amount of hand-holding. I had a feeling by the time he achieved the age of the average freshman, he would have grown into his own skin.

That happy day was two years in the future however. So I ignored my to-do list and prepared to hold some metaphorical hands.

Sure enough, the flood gates opened as soon as I gave him the opportunity. “I was thinking of delving into Native American petroglyphs.” His eyes sparkled as he lost track of his surroundings and traversed more familiar terrain—the inside of his own head. “Subtopic: form constants and the possible use of hallucinogens. I’d like to track down modern shamans to interview, but I doubt I’ll have time to speak with more than one or two.”

He glared at me then, frustrated that I’d given him less than a week to compile his magnum opus. I swallowed my amusement as I replied. “You do realize that when I said you needed secondary sources, I was referring to scientific articles? This isn’t a dissertation, Joe. This is only 25% of your grade in one class.”

“Yes,” he started. “But the material merits—”

We both glanced up as someone tapped on my open door.

***

Of course. Who else. Dr. Dick Duncan, nemesis and boss, hovered there, smirking.

“Dick,” I greeted him, hating the fact that Joe’s slender shoulders cowered the moment the department chair glanced in his direction. A good professor lifted up her students. Dr. Duncan got a kick out of knocking them down.

“Ah, you’re speaking to the boy genius.” He laughed, displaying teeth that were far more perfect than you’d expect from a man of his generation. Word on the street was that they were all fake…just like his interest in his students. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“No, I was going.” Joe, who would gladly have talked archaeology for at least another half hour, stuffed his notebook in his bag so rapidly the pages bent over. Then he slid through the gap between Dick and the door jamb, the other professor not doing him the courtesy of coming inside to widen the space.

“Well?” I asked after the thuds of Joe’s footsteps had receded. I’d need to check on the boy later if I didn’t want a repeat of his first reaction paper, a one-paragraph assignment that he’d handed in two weeks late and twenty pages long.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” Dick answered, apparently ignorant of the irony of the situation. Then he wandered away without saying anything further, acting for all the world as if he’d had no purpose in entering other than hazing the young.

Frustrated, I stared after my boss for one long moment. Was this really the leadership the university wanted heading up our department? Unfortunately, as the youngest professor on the totem pole, there was nothing I could do about it. So I dismissed the annoyance and instead dove into the office-cleaning project I’d avoided for far too long.

I’m not sure when the hallway grew quiet, the last faculty members and students filtering away to their homes and dormitories. I just knew that when the last of Blackburn’s papers were picked through and separated into piles—photocopies to be discarded, notes to be filed, materials to be returned to the university library—the view outside my window had darkened into night.

I hadn’t meant to be here so late on the final day of the semester, and I could tell Adena was antsy after sitting on her perch for so long. I’d get her an egg out of the department refrigerator to tide her over and do just a little more filing. Then I’d find my way home….

But when I padded down the hall toward the main entrance, the sound of fingers clacking on a keyboard emerged out of the darkness. Past the entrance and down the corridor, now I was following a rectangle of light that spilled out into the hall.

The department office. Who would be inside at this hour? Poking my head around the corner cautiously, I wasn’t sure what I expected to see. But it certainly wasn’t the plump, middle-aged secretary bowed over her laptop with the intensity of a predator on the hunt.

“Hello,” I said, then jumped as Suzy slammed down the lid with all the force of a teenager caught watching pornography.

“Oh! Hello.” Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy. What exactly did she get up to in her office after dark?

“I just came by to grab a snack for Adena,” I said vaguely, motioning at the bird on my shoulder. “But I can take her home to feed her. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything. I was just leaving. Here, let me get it for you.”

Despite Suzy’s more usual cadence, I hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to deal with further problems. After all, I could feel the monster coiled inside me, napping lightly after her exertions earlier in the day.

But Adena possessed none of my reservations. Flying off my shoulder, the raven landed on Suzy’s arm then began picking at the older woman’s shiny bracelets.

And Suzy reacted the way she always did. “What a charmer,” she cooed, scratching Adena’s neck once before opening the refrigerator door and pulling out one of the raw eggs she kept inside for my raven. But she didn’t offer to chat. Instead, she ejected me, locking up her office and trotting alongside as we headed down the hall.

“You should be careful going home,” she warned. “The students tell me there’s a big, black dog wandering around that scared a freshman out of her panties.”

There were always crazy stories on a college campus, so I shrugged off the unlikelihood of panty-dropping beasts. “You be careful too,” I answered vaguely. Then I froze, Adena’s egg slipping through my fingers, as I took in the jumble of white papers spread across what should have been a pristine, empty floor in front of my office door.

Want to keep reading? Wolf Dreams is available on all retailers. Thanks for joining Olivia on her adventure!