Ever since her sixteenth birthday, strange things keep happening to Seraphina Parrish.The Lady in Black burns Sera’s memories.Unexplainable Premonitions catapult her to other cities.The Grungy Gang wants to kill her.And a beautiful, mysterious boy stalks her.But when Sera moves to Chicago, and her aunt reveals their family connection to a centuries old, secret society, she is immediately thrust into an unbelievable fantasy world, leading her on a quest to unravel the mysteries that plague her. In the end, their meanings crash into an epic struggle of loyalty and betrayal, and she’ll be forced to choose between the boy who has stolen her heart and the thing she desires most.Wander Dust is the breathtaking fantasy that will catapult you through a story of time, adventure, and love.
Excerpt from “Wander Dust”
“What are the symbols, there on each wing?” I point to the oil painting of the Angel. “Each of the three sets of wings represents one of the given gifts. The middle set represents the Wanderer. Here you can see the Wandering symbol.” Bishop waves his hand toward the tattoo. “A set of wings.” It’s a simplified pictograph. “The top set of wings represents the Seer. Their symbol is there.” He points over my shoulder to a symbol of an open eye, reminding me of an Egyptian hieroglyph. “And lastly, of course, is the Protector. Our symbol is a coiled scorpion.” He points again, his arm grazing mine. “If this is true, what happened to our wings,” I ask. “The remnants are still with you,” he whispers. His fingertip slips down my shoulder and slowly traces the large bone on my upper back. I shiver. I pray he didn’t feel it, but I’m sure he did. Behind me, I think I hear his lips crack into a smile. “The scapula bone, it’s shaped like a wing. That’s where our wings were attached before God stripped them from us.” “Why would he do that?” I ask quietly. “The short story is that we needed to be punished for sharing our secrets with the Normals.” His finger lingers on my back. “She’s quite a special angel. She bears all three gifts.” “Is that possible?” “I believe that anything is possible,” he replies. I turn to look at him. His eyes search mine silently, asking something I can’t decipher. I blush, my face hot, and turn forward again. “We’re learning more about ourselves every day and are evolving in new ways,” he says. He walks around me. His footsteps echo in the atrium. Then he stops and faces me. We stand, eyes locked on each other for several seconds. Finally, he reaches down to brush his hand to my face, letting his fingers drift to the beauty marks on my cheek. He touches each one delicately, as though he might accidentally move one. “This painting could have been your portrait,” Bishop muses and assesses my features. He leans down to my ear. His cheek grazes mine, and he whispers. His warm breath radiates around my neck, sending tingles racing down my back. All I want to do is reach out and hold him. “And the painting—it bears your name.” He says my name slowly, gently, letting it roll from his lips, while enunciating each syllable. “Ser-a-phi-na.” It’s as though I have never heard my own name before. The sound, so beautiful, so sweet, makes me close my eyes to hear it again in my mind. I inhale, holding my breath at the top of my chest. Being so close to him, encompassed in his sublime presence, leaves me feeling submerged with the current pulling me deeper, farther out, and uncontrolled. My eyes flutter open, and he’s gone.
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