Finally, he sat up. “They called me weird in my old town, too,” he said, picking at his comforter. “Whether it was my anxiety or my ADHD, I always seemed to be too much or not enough. Too focused on the wrong things. It wasn’t until Hazel and I met at camp that I found someone who really got me. I thought … I thought maybe New Rotterdam would be better. I became a little obsessed with it, I guess. In a place where weird is ordinary, maybe I’d finally fit in. But it hasn’t been like that at all. Even with monsters and magic, I’m still me, and other people are still other people.”

The pages of the Atlas flipped closed, the book’s eerie blue eye narrowing upon Emrys.

“You have an unquiet mind,” Van Stavern intoned. “I understand that better than you know. You’re far from the first aspiring sorcerer to think differently, Emrys. It’s practically a prerequisite.”

“I’m tired of feeling weird,” Emrys said.

“That word again.” The book chuckled. Emrys realized it was the first time he’d heard Van Stavern laugh. It was a bit unsettling, truth be told. “Do you know its origin? Originally it meant fate. Destiny. Weird is our charter, Emrys. As witches and wizards, we sculpt fate to our liking. The weird is ours to wield. It is only through embracing it that you will come into your full—”

“I thought you said there was math.”

“—oh, enough about the math! Honestly, you’re more afraid of a little algebra than the child-eating monster. But what I’m saying is, for all my talk of ancient languages and wicked equations, the truth is that sorcery isn’t science. It wants to tell a story—a strange story—and true mastery is just about letting it tell that story through you. Pourrir le tissage was my spell. It worked for me. You will need to find your own way into this tale.”

Before Emrys had a chance to process this odd bit of advice, a ping sounded from his computer. He leapt up from his bed, opening the StrifeChat window.

Someone had replied to his question! A user named @TheGatekeeper. Emrys recognized the handle from the wiki. They’d edited tons of articles.

Looking into disappearances, huh? Be careful, @EmDash! We all know that digging for answers in NR can quickly lead to digging your own grave. Mwa ha ha ha. Kidding aside, there were several odd ones in the last few weeks. Young folks, mostly. Awful stuff. You won’t find these in the news, of course, but below are some links to the social pages of their friends and family. Probably a better place to start researching.

As soon as Emrys finished reading, a private message notification popped up. Someone had DMed him? He clicked into his inbox, where a user named @AmberBishop had sent a note. Emrys didn’t recognize this handle. The profile picture was of a gold-colored chess piece.

@EmDash Are you researching for a particular article in the wiki? Which one? Maybe I can help.

Emrys nearly found himself replying that he was looking into the Wandering Hour, but then thought better of it. As much as he loved the wiki community, his loyalty was to the Order now. Van Stavern had warned him about revealing sensitive secrets. Maybe once they put a stop to Edna, it would be safe to share more.

Emrys typed out a quick reply.

@AmberBishop Just some general research. Might have more soon. THANKS!!

Then he opened the social media links and quickly logged out. Scanning through, Emrys was surprised by the number. Including Brian, six people had gone missing in eight weeks, and yet nothing had made the news. Most of the families seemed sure their loved ones hadn’t just up and left, and nearly all described the police response to the “runaways” as being half-hearted at best. (Usually with much ruder language.) Emrys finally had to close the posts entirely. They made him too sad.

So Serena was right about something else, too. New Rotterdam seemed eager to forget these poor people, the oldest of which was just a college student.

So far, Brian was the youngest.

Emrys opened the map app on his phone and dropped pins where each of the missing had last been seen. When he got to the final address, he paused.

Casper Leonard, the college student, had been just a block away when he’d disappeared last night. He’d taken a bag of dirty clothes to the nearby laundromat and was quietly studying during the spin cycle. He never emptied the laundry and never made it home.

Emrys drew a line with his finger across the various pinned sites. As he suspected, they were all clumped pretty closely together. Was this the territory Edna was hunting in?

Emrys frowned. His own apartment building was so close. Was it too close? He couldn’t be sure yet. There weren’t enough data points. He needed to talk with Hazel first thing, though. If all these disappearances really were connected to the Wandering Hour, then Edna’s hunting ground might be just under their noses. Maybe they could find her before she claimed anyone else.

Or, Emrys thought with a chill, maybe she’ll find us.

Mark my words, Emrys. Serena’s warning tolled through his thoughts like a bell. By the time this is over, one of you will be dead.

It had the uncomfortable weight of a prophecy. Looking down at the map clustered with blood-red pins marking young lives that had been cut short, Emrys was keenly aware of how powerless he still was against the forces that hunted in this town. There was so much he didn’t know—including how to fight against them. He needed to learn fast.

A knock on his bedroom door jarred him from his worries. Emrys cast a quick glance to the Atlas, but it already looked like a simple notebook.

“Come in!” he called.

Emrys’s dad poked his head in. “Whoa, pretty dark in here, guy. Turn on a light so you don’t wear your eyes out, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Emrys said, flicking on his desk lamp. “Lost track of time.”

“Serena’s outside,” his dad said. “She wants to talk to you—in the hall. Everything all right between you two? She seemed a little tense.”

Emrys nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Just a disagreement. But we’ll work through it.”

The expression on his father’s face clouded for a moment, but then he gave Emrys a supportive smile. “I know you will,” he said gently. “You’re both good kids. And I … I understand it’s hard moving to a new place, Em. Just want you to know that your mom and I see that. But we’re also so proud of the effort you’ve made here. We see that, too. And we’re lucky to have such cool neighbors, huh? Hazel and Serena and their families …”

“Yeah,” Emrys agreed. Then, “But you’re pretty cool, too, Dad.”

Renner Houtman beamed at his son. “Back at you, buddy. Now, you’ve got a disagreement to solve and I’ve got a chicken to roast. Meet back in an hour to turn in our quests and rake in the XP?”

“Definitely,” said Emrys.

Edna Milton

From the New Rotterdam Wiki Project

Edna Milton holds the dubious honor of being the only adult suspected of falling victim to the Wandering Hour.

By all accounts, Edna led a largely unremarkable life until her sixties. She was born and raised in New Rotterdam’s Shambles Row district in 1903, married a factory worker in 1921, and took a job as a postal clerk in 1930. On March 24, 1940, her husband died by snakebite following Easter services at the First Penitent Church of New Rotterdam, infamous at the time for encouraging its congregation to prove their faith by handling venomous snakes. Strangely, the coroner’s report showed no bite wounds.

In 1962, following her retirement, Edna completed a foster parent application with the New Rotterdam Department of Child Welfare. Over the next two years, thirteen different children were placed in her home on a temporary basis.

Five of them disappeared without a trace.

Runaways are all too common in the foster care system, and in the 1960s, it was alarmingly easy for a preteen or teenager to evade authorities, hitchhike out of the state, and drop off the grid entirely. So, for a time, Edna escaped any blame for the missing children, and she stayed on the department’s active roster of foster homes.

Upon the fifth disappearance, however, someone in the department must have finally grown suspicious. Edna’s foster license was revoked. The reason given was the presence of a pet that was deemed “potentially dangerous to children.” The pet was a large python—an unusual choice of pet, particularly at the time, but it’s unclear whether the department saw the animal as a genuine danger or simply used the excuse to sever ties with Edna. Either way, several of the children who had been left in her care went on record about the snake, claiming that Edna threatened to set it loose if they misbehaved. She also told at least two children that “snakes eat their own children” and that the practice “kept them young.” (While some snakes do eat their young, pythons are not believed to be among them.)

Following the termination of Edna’s license, police informed her that she should not leave town, as a larger investigation was pending. But when officers returned to her apartment the next day, she was gone, as was the python. Edna Milton was never heard from again.

Eventually, the woman was declared legally dead, and in the absence of any next of kin, her belongings were cataloged and earmarked for an estate sale. Among those belongings was a gilded hourglass with red sand, leading some to believe that Edna had fallen prey to the unexplained phenomenon known as the Wandering Hour.

11

Serena was waiting outside his apartment, and Emrys wished it were Hazel instead. It was a harsh thought, maybe, but he was anxious to act on what he’d learned. The hourglass was almost certainly nearby. Maybe on this very block! And every moment it was out there was an hour Edna might be hunting some innocent kid.

He fired off a quick text as he walked out of his bedroom: Someone disappeared yesterday. Laundromat on the corner. Keep an eye out.