Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

southwesterly winds beating off the Atlantic. Scattered between the oaks was an understory of shiny green holly, rowan, and hazel. The ground beneath was covered with a tangled mass of brown, red and green, bilberry, ivy, and brambles.
    He paused for a moment, visualized the woodland clearing from his father's paintings, and opened his senses. The air hummed in his ears and he knew which way to go. Following his instincts he walked on for twenty feet before taking a small turning to the right. From when he was a little kid, he'd always been able to do things other people couldn't: find things that were lost, sense animals, move silently, find his way without ever getting lost, and know the exact time of day without needing a watch.
    From the undergrowth, a blackbird chirruped its distinctive song, while all around came the melodic calls of chiffchaffs and wood warblers. Todd walked on silent feet, but, apart from the birds, he didn't see any of the forest creatures that nipped at his awareness. Unfortunately, Picasso crashed through the undergrowth like an elephant and frightened the rest of the woodland inhabitants away. Much as Todd liked the dog, the next time he explored, he'd come alone.
    After a few minutes, the trees thinned, and he stepped into an open area. But the small clearing he found wasn't the one from Dad's paintings—in the middle of this clearing stood three ancient granite megaliths.

Chapter Four
    An unnatural silence hung in the clearing. The birds had fallen silent. Even the wind had dropped and the clouds decorating the patch of blue sky above were still. Todd circled the standing stones, listening, watching, his head angled in concentration. A presence brushed the edge of his awareness, not an animal, but something subtler, something self-aware and guarded. Something that felt both strange and familiar. A prickle of warning raced up Todd's spine. He scanned the fringe of trees, searching for anyone or anything that could be the source of the feeling.
    All he saw was Picasso lying in the shade licking his paw. Todd flexed his tense shoulders and started examining the megaliths again. On the inside of the third standing stone at head height was a carving of a Green Man very similar to the one over the doorway of Grandpa's shop, only much bigger. A beautifully detailed circle of twisted ivy had been hewn into the rock. From within the circle the same spooky man's face stared out, eyes hollow, lips drawn back to reveal two rows of even teeth that looked too big for the mouth.
    While Todd stared at the face, a sound whispered on the edge of perception, softly spoken words caught on the wind. He reached out tentatively, brushed his fingers over the face. The words grew louder inside his head. He squeezed his eyes closed, concentrated, wish...will ...he could almost hear it.
    Picasso barked. A pheasant burst from the undergrowth, flapping and squawking. The silent tension snapped. Suddenly birds sang once more, and leaves fluttered in the breeze.
    Todd clenched his fist against the megalith, gritting his teeth in frustration. He stared into the hollow eyes of the carved face. "Did you speak to me?" he whispered.
    He needed to do some research, find out what the images of the Green Man meant, who they represented. And work out how they were connected to his dad, because instinct told him they were.
    Now Picasso was rested, Todd picked up the pace as he ran back along the woodland path. Surprisingly, he got turned around somewhere in the forest and hit the coast path farther away from the village than he expected, on the far side of the Turpins' cottage.
    As soon as they reached the coast path, Picasso started barking, a deep rumble of warning trailing at the end of each woof. Todd's hunter's senses vibrated in warning. Deep in the trees behind the Turpins' cottage, he thought he saw movement, two guys ducking out of sight. Could they be the two he'd seen the day he arrived? He swallowed the sudden tightness in