Distortion

December 26 - Silver West Airport. Silver Cliff, Colorado

The screaming wind and frigid temperature backhanded me across the face. I sucked in my breath. Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for.

Miles of glittering snow crusted the surface of everything it touched. The bitter cold sliced through every layer of clothing. Goosebumps, the size of blimps, pushed against my jeans.

At least I was off that ridiculously small airplane.

I never should have boarded it in the first place. This was crazy. I should have gone with my dad, not that I was given a choice.

This time the research was too crucial, the possible outcome for us-life changing. My dad's words, not mine. He never did explain the life changing part when I pushed. He simply stroked his goatee—as he often did before giving me an answer I wouldn't want to hear, and said, "There'll be time for explanations later, Allie." And that was all I got from him.

I shouldn't have been surprised. He had been acting a little off lately.

I blew out an audible sigh as I looked out over the snow-capped Sangre de Cristo mountain range. The tops of the ridge pierced the low hanging clouds, and the range extended as long as I could see in either direction. Silver Cliff and Westcliffe, two towns indistinguishable from each other, since one bled seamlessly into the other, were snuggled up to the mountain. These were probably the two most rural towns in Colorado. There was nothing here. No fast food, just a few mom-and-pop shops down the main strip.

Most boring senior year. Ever.

I knotted my scarf tighter and yanked my two overstuffed suitcases across the freshly plowed runway.

That was when I first felt it.

I had been focusing so hard on making my way to the warmth of the hangar, I nearly missed it.

A butterfly touch.

Fingers running the length of my cheek. A caress. I jerked away and stopped suddenly even though nothing was there.

A woman walking behind me almost collided with my suitcases, causing her to half stumble, half hop. Narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips she veered around me. "Sorry," I yelled after her, but she didn't turn around.

Dry, winter air brought on a static feeling that buzzed around my fingers like pins and needles. I pulled off my gloves, skin white from the cold. Rubbing my hands together I tried to bring feeling back, but it was useless.

In an instant the air around me became visible. Like a mirage. There was a color to it, a translucent golden sheen. My heart kicked up a notch.

I could see my breath in puffs of crystallized air that looked tangible. What was wrong with me?

Besides the cranky lady, there were only seven of us on the plane including the pilot. I turned to see how they were reacting to this weather anomaly.

They kept their heads down, briskly making their way indoors. I watched as they breathed the visible air particles-in and out. In and out. The golden sheen shimmered as they pushed their way through the substance. They had no idea.

I fanned my fingers in front of me trying to grasp it. A wisp of visible energy. Was it even real? Maybe I was seeing a mirage.

After being on a flight all day from New York, I was just tired. Jet lag or something.

"Allegra!" The moment he called my name the rippling sheets of energy dissolved into nothingness. It was gone as quickly as it came.

Everett strode toward me with a gait that showed the decades he had spent in a saddle. I tried to plaster a happy look on my face, like I was glad I was being forced to move here against my will.