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handle it.”
    “What are you talking about?” Amber stared dumbfounded at her aunt’s back. “Protected me from what?” The questions tumbled through her brain, the confusion causing her thoughts to scramble in a futile attempt to understand what her aunt was saying. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch her aunt. To reassure and comfort her, but the burn on the back of her hand reminded Amber she couldn’t.
    “There’s no need for you to protect me anymore, Aunt Bev. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. I love you, but I’m old enough to take care of myself. That’s why I went on the trip to New York even though you told me not to. It wasn’t defiance that made me go, but a desire to expand, to explore the world and try new things. And nothing happened. Everything’s fine. I’m back safe and sound.”
    Her aunt sighed, a big breath filled with more than just air. “You can lie to me, but I hope you don’t lie to yourself.”
    Thankful her aunt couldn’t see the flush that heated her cheeks, Amber fumbled for words, looking for solidity in her suddenly tumbling world. What was going on?
    “I don’t understand what you mean,” she finally mumbled.
    “And that may be my greatest failure,” Aunt Bev whispered before she shuffled away.
    She gaped at her aunt’s retreating back until it disappeared around the corner. The stairs creaked as she made her way back to their apartment. Amber ached to go after her and ease the rift between them, but now wasn’t the time.
    The burning sting on her hand began to fade with her aunt’s retreat. She pulled a shaky hand from her pocket to stare again at the mysterious bird scored into her skin.
    How? Why? What in the hell was happening to her life? To her?
    Her eyes were pulled to the corner where the sewing trunk sat. Her fingers absently rubbed the mark on her hand, and she was surprised at how smooth the surface felt. They were linked—the stone and the mark—that was obvious. It wasn’t logical. It was too weird and unbelievable.
    And definitely not meant for her.
    Maybe it was all a mistake. And maybe there really wasn’t a bird branded into the back of her hand. Her gaze drifted down to stare at the proof that it wasn’t all a dream or mistake.
    The bird was on her hand.
    Her chest constricted as an overwhelming feeling of doom settled in for a long, unwanted visit. She could no longer deny that somehow she was getting the adventure she so foolishly wanted.
    Now, if she could only give it back.

Chapter Four
    Eight weeks later
     
    Amber stared at the gathering crowd from the safety of her car. It was a dank, cold morning that threatened snow and had most people, smart people, huddled warmly in their homes. Exactly where she wanted to be. Instead, she sat soaking up the last bit of heat and forestalling the inevitable.
    She spotted Kayla weaving her way through the group of people, chatting with some, smiling at others, comfortable in her surroundings. There were a number of members from the Indian tribe attending the mayor’s speech. All coordinated by Kayla in protest of the wind turbines that were being erected in Nantucket Sound.
    In the eight weeks since the awful trip to New York City, Amber had managed to evade and dodge Kayla’s repeated attempts to contact her. Avoidance was her primary objective. Denial her mantra. The longer she could ignore everything—pretend nothing was different, nothing had changed—the better. She hadn’t touched the deceptive little box since she’d stuffed it in the sewing trunk, had blatantly ignored the bird mark, and had sighed in relief when the shaman had remained quiet—when everything had remained quiet and normal.
    Which made her think that maybe she really was being paranoid. Even if there was an unwanted bird etched onto her hand. She needed to get out, and the rally seemed like the perfect way to mingle without having to answer questions. There would be too many people around for a deep