Cover

Title Page

NOLANDER

Emanations, Book 1

Becca Mills

The Emanations Series

Nolander

Solatium

“Theriac,” a short story

Isolate (forthcoming in early 2016)

Dedication

For my family, my best work.

Author’s Note

I have placed a Glossary of Places, Terms, and Individuals at the very end of this book. For ease of searching, I’ve alphabetized people according to what the main character, Beth Ryder, usually calls them. For example, Andrew Duff would be found under “A,” for “Andy,” whereas John Williams would be found under “W,” for Williams.

Prologue

The great beast slid through tall, dead grass.

The wind had led him here. It wanted to show him something.

His once-paws sensed broken asphalt and the hardened earth of early spring in the northlands, the damp soil still mixed with particles of ice.

His crystalline coat moved as the evening breeze greeted it.

The wind was getting reacquainted with him, here. He had not visited the north during the most recent coming of the ice, when the storms scoured the surface of the glaciers, and the land beneath was pressed low and remade. When the ice drew back, the fresh place attracted him. He had spent many days here, of late.

The humans brought newness as well, of course — structures, vehicles, plants and animals from other places. But these things interested him less. They had all come so quickly. Surely they were ephemeral.

As were humans themselves, most likely.

The beast had interacted with them on several occasions. They called him Ghosteater.

The idea of being a sound was strange to him. A scent. A posture. A way of looking down and to the side. These were more proper. But he no longer knew creatures who could address him properly, so sounds would have to do.

He looked up at the gray clouds, watched as they pushed and crowded one another across the sky. A full moon would rise soon, but its light would be dim.

He lowered his eyes to the broken place that stood before him. In days past, humans had used it. Now other creatures came and went — bats, mice, coyote, an owl.

But tonight, the wind whispered in his ear, something here would change.

No, that wasn’t quite right. He sifted the wind’s strange language, seeking understanding.

Things would change, and that change would begin here, tonight.

The wind suggested it concerned him. He could not imagine how. Nevertheless, change was interesting. He settled down to wait.

Chapter 1

Anyone can take a nice picture of something pretty. Being able to show the beauty in ugliness and the interest in tedium — that’s what makes you a real photographer.

The insight isn’t my own. I read it on some website right after I won a fancy camera in St. John’s Shingles, Fives, and Tens New-Roof Raffle.