EW is thrilled to exclusively reveal an excerpt from each book below.
The walls between fantasy and reality were broken, crumbling, irrelevant.
And that was terrifying.
Wasnt that what happened when the mind fractured?
Wasnt that the definition of being insane?
The dream unfolded like a movie.
She woke in her room, but she wasnt dressed in her pajamas.
Instead she wore a dark suit that was almost masculine.
Her hair was stiffer, shorter, styled in a severe way she would never wear.
Shoes with chunky heels.
The clothes were nothing she owned, but they fit her.
She felt like she belonged in them.
But when she stood up, there was something odd.
A weight on her hip.
A small automatic snugged into a leather holster clipped to her belt.
Military brats always did.
Her brothers and Dad took her and Melissa to the range in any town where they lived.
That was what he called her: Starbuck.
And he was Ahab.
It started when theyd first read Moby Dick together.
A book she loved and Melissa hated.
A book that created a connection with her father that Dana didnt always feel.
A connection that seemed to be interrupted way too often.
Sometimes he was hard, distant, cold; and his coldness chilled her and pushed her away.
The gun in the holster was not a model she had ever seen.
She looked at the reflection of the weapon but did not touch it.
Its not yours, said a voice inside her mind.Not yet.
Then she noticed that her reflection was wrong.
A womans face, not a girls.
Not much older, though.
Old enough, though, to show that the years had not been easy ones.
There was a rigidity to the face, a glitter of doubt and submerged anger in the eyes.
There was real fear there, too.
Hidden, compressed, repressed, shoved down, pushed back.
Im afraid, said her reflection.
Her voice was different, too.
Older, not as soft, more controlled.
Dana asked her reflection, speaking as if this was a different person.
Im afraid to believe.
Dana licked her lips.
The reflection looked sad, as if that was the wrong answer.
What are you afraid of?
Dana said, Im afraid that God is speaking and no one is listening.
I know, said the other Dana.
The woman with her face leaned close and whispered, Hes coming for you.
The woman suddenly gasped and drew her gun.
It was so fast, with an oiled grace that could only have been possible after years of practice.
And all so, so fast.
A heartbeat and then the gun was up.
no, pointed past her.
Dana spun around toward the darkness that suddenly filled her bedroom.
For one heartbeat there was nothing to see.
And then he stepped out of the shadows.
The angel of light.
Devil or monster or ordinary man, she didnt know which.
Tall, painted a cold blue by the spill of moonlight that slanted through her window.
Dressed in clothes so dark it was as if he wore garments made of shadows.
Wings folded behind his broad back.
But he had no face at all.
Not a mask, she was sure.
And yet sheknewthat he could see her.
That he was smiling with the wrong kind of hungers.
That he was completely aware of herboth the real her and the fantasy older version in the mirror.
In his right hand he clutched several long, wickedly sharp iron nails.
In his left he held a crude mallet made of hardwood and steel.
The fingers of both hands were smeared with blood.
Run, whispered the older Dana.
Ill attempt to hold him here.
Dana could not run.
She could barely breathe.
The moonlight showed them to her with crystal clarity.
They were not the soft, beautiful feathered wings of an angel of heaven.
They were the black, leathery, mottled wings of something from the pit of hell.
Dana screamed herself awake.
Usually, they came fromStar Trekepisodes or books on quantum physics.
A retired military conspiracy theorist was a first.
There are no coincidences.
When Samantha disappeared, people on the island had called it a coincidence.
What were the odds?
He was still thinking about it when he walked into the apartment.
The television was on.
For once, his father was home before him.
At least they kind of made it feel like home.
In here, his dad called from the master bedroom.
Mulders dad had rented the apartment when his parents separated, which was code for getting divorced.
The place was nice, but it felt more like a hotel than a home.
His dad was always leaving on a business trip or returning from one.
Mulder leaned against the door frame, looking bored.
Its a quick trip.
Ill be back on Monday.
His dad didnt look up from the shirts he was folding.
I want you to head over to Georgetown tomorrow.
Spend some time on campus like we talked about.
The sooner you make a decision, the better.
Meaning the sooner Mulder made the decision his dad wanted him make.
Acceptance letters dont come for two more weeks.
I still have time to decide.
His father tossed the shirt in his hand on the bed.
Theres nothing to decide.
Kids dont turn down acceptances to Georgetown University.
Mulder crossed his arms.
Of course they do, or there wouldnt be a waiting list.
And I thought you were coming with me to show me the lay of the land.
What happened to playing tour guide?
Im going out of town, remember?
He gestured at the suitcase, irritated.
Does everyone at the State Department work weekends, or just you?
Mulder sounded more bitter than usual.
His father arranged the shirts neatly in the suitcase.
I tried to get out of going, if that makes you feel any better.
His dad almost sounded sincere.
I know you dont understand, but what I do is important.
Its bigger than me.
Im trying to do some good in the world.
He stared at his half-packed suitcase, and for a second, he looked miserable.
Mulder almost felt sorry for his dad, but it didnt last.
Whatever prompted this heartfelt share session couldnt make up for the past few years.
His dad looked up and shook off any genuine emotion he might have been feeling.
Its not like I planned to be out of town.
Im not thrilled about the idea of Phoebe staying here while Im away.
Phoebe was arriving Sunday.
They had planned the trip months ago, after he realized they had spring break at the same time.
You dont trust me?
Mulder clenched his jaw.
Based on this conversation, the answer was obvious.
Give me a break.
Youre a seventeen-year-old with a stack ofPlayboymagazines stashed under your bed.
Ill be eighteen in October.
Or did you forget again?
Last year his dad had called him a day late to wish him happy birthday.
I can write it down if that will make it easier to remember.
Instead of apologizing for being a crappy parent, Bill Mulder pulled out the big guns.
Maybe I should call Phoebes parents and tell them she cant come?
He reached for the phone on the nightstand.
And knowing Phoebe, her parents probably didnt know much about the trip.
So, for once, Mulder kept his mouth shut.
He couldnt screw up his chance to see Phoebe.
He missed the hell out of her.
his dad asked, reveling in the lame victory.
Theres the Bill Mulder I know.
Cold, distant, and condescending.
Just let her come.
Mulder forced out the words through grit- ted teeth.
Sleep on the sofa and dont make me regret trusting you.
Two more months until graduation, and Im outta here.
Then he could go back to living with his mom until August, when he left for college.
If he figured out where he was going by then.
A newscasters voice droned on in the background.
Mulder wasnt really listening until he heard the words missing girl.
He jerked forward and sat on the edge of the chair, listening.
She looked around the same age as Samantha when she disappeared.
Mulders skin went cold.
