Whispers at Moonrise

natural drug of sorts.”
    “But how could that be when not everyone experiences it?” Kylie unlaced her shoes.
    “Ahh, but those not welcome here generally feel the opposite, an uncomfortable sensation that urges them to flee. Which is why this scientist believed it was a chemical reaction. Meaning, the few supernaturals who experience positive emotions were just genetically inclined to react differently to the plant’s compounds. Like how some groups of people react differently to drugs.”
    “And what did he find?” Kylie asked, intrigued by the subject, but no more believing it was a drug than she believed in Santa Claus.
    Holiday pulled off her shoes and set them beside a rock and stood up, glancing down at Kylie with a slight smile on her lips. “Not a damn thing. After only a few weeks of working in the area, he and his teams suddenly gave up the grant that was going to pay for the project. Rumor was the Death Angels scared them away.”
    Kylie moved her gaze around the verdant and beautiful landscape. The mingling of mist and sprays of sunshine beaming down from above the trees spoke of the power and magic that Holiday had mentioned. The ambience that existed here was too reverent to be considered a drug, and the natural splendor too spiritual to be dissected and studied under the microscope.
    “I can see how the Death Angels wouldn’t like unbelievers digging around. I’m glad they chased them away.”
    “Ditto,” Holiday said.
    Standing up, Kylie’s bare feet sank into the moss-covered bank. Wiggling her toes, she bent down and rolled up her jeans.
    Right then something swooped down in front of her. She swallowed her scream when she saw it was the blue jay. The bird she’d brought back to life that had somehow imprinted on Kylie and kept stopping in for visits. Hovering right in front of her, it sang as if personally performing a ballad just for her.
    “I’m not your mama,” Kylie said. “Go, find your own way. Do what all birds do. Leave the nest, so to speak. Find a hunky blue jay to flutter after.”
    “That’s sweet.” Holiday chuckled.
    “Maybe, but it’s also weird,” Kylie muttered.
    With her jeans rolled up, she took a step into the creek. The cool water lapping around her ankles felt heavenly. Her heart that had moments earlier ached with raw emotion now felt lighter. Things, at least for right now, felt right. Her world felt manageable; her problems solvable. She eagerly embraced the feeling.
    Yet if she’d learned anything from her visits to this special place, it was that even a manageable life didn’t mean things would be perfect. A trip to the falls didn’t fix anything. It simply offered one the strength to face the hurdles.
    Life could still hurt like a paper cut right across the heart.
    And she had a few paper-cut scars to prove it. A vision of Ellie filled her heart. Yet as a breeze carrying the misty coolness brushed Kylie’s face, the ache faded into acceptance. Every new day was about opportunities. You couldn’t always control life, just your response to it.
    Stopping halfway across the creek, she turned to look at Holiday. The camp leader stood gazing back at Burnett, who stood in the trees. The expression on her face held concern, fascination, and something else.
    Love. Burnett and Holiday were meant to be together. The feeling came on so strong and with such certainty that there seemed to be a message with it—a message Kylie couldn’t quite read. Did it mean she was supposed to help make that happen? Or could she trust that if left alone, love would find a way?
    And could she feel the same about her and Lucas?
    Not that she was prepared to call it love. Nor had he called it that.
    But Derek had. I’m in love with you, Kylie.
    Kylie closed her eyes and tried not to think about anything other than the calm feeling that the falls provided.

 
    Chapter Eighteen
    Time seemed to stop as Kylie and Holiday sat side by side in the alcove of the falls. The wall of water diffused the incoming light; only the briefest rays of yellow sun passed through. And when they did, the light caught in the mist droplets and danced in the air. The water rushed down with a low roar, and tiny molecules of moisture brushed against their faces.
    The thought occurred to Kylie that maybe now would be a good time to tell Holiday about her sister. If anything could help curb the sting of the news, it would be the magic of this place. Yet even with the peacefulness embracing her,