Fire and fury coalesce when Phoebe, a high school junior with nothing to lose meets a boy searching for answers to a dark mystery.

Standing at the edge of the bluff, I counted the seconds before I had to step back from the heat. In that moment —that still delay where a breeze blew from behind and sent subtle whiffs of mountain air across my face —I could breathe. It was an odd sensation. The heat from the raging wildfire devouring the desert floor rose up over the wall of the bluff, wrapping my legs to the knee, and cool mountain-scented air pushed down across my face and chest. I didn’t waste it.

Kneeling, I tore sandy earth away from the base of a twisted and bent Joshua tree with my hands. I had been eying the plant for a few days, deciding if I liked it well enough to make it my memorial. I decided tonight, as the fire roared behind it, I would never find a better place.

Back lit, the Joshua tree looked like a dragon. Its branches many heads and wings ready to take flight home to a mythical land or, like Draconus in Greek mythology, guard a magical, sacred place. The smell of burning earth —acrid and painful to inhale, and laced with the pungently pleasant scent of green sage—made the place feel sacred.

I ignored the heat creeping closer from the fire and scraped at the hard-packed soil under the sand, deepening the hole. When my fingers were sore and the base of the small pit was cool and deep enough that I thought my treasure would stay buried, I pulled the worn envelope from my pocket. Lifting the flap, I ran my finger through the priceless dust inside.