“. . . and then Kuna slipped in a massive mud puddle. He smelled like clay for days . . .”
Her giggle is so different from Em’s. Stormy is a morning bird, full of energy. Never ceasing to share her song. But when Em laughs? How can I describe it? Her laugh is more a rarity. A nightingale you only hear if you wait long enough to listen.
Sort of like Tide. The guy shadows Ebony’s every move. Watching her while she pretends not to notice. Listening for the sake of hearing her voice.
“Hilarious.” Em’s older sister rolls her eyes. “Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Haman lost his eye patch?”
Tide’s grin grows wider the faster her lips move. “Oh man, Jasyn Crowe’s lackey? Do tell.” The guy’s a goner. No doubt about it.
The Song sisters are as different as mirrorglass and steel. Loner Wren soars above in griffin form. Her feathers don’t do much in the way of hiding the chip on her shoulder. Bengal tiger Robyn prowls from one person to the next, her still-flat tiger teeth glistening. She lifts her head at Makai’s hand.
“You’re a long way from home.” He ruffles the fur between her ears.
She purrs and rolls her neck.
“How are your parents?” The Commander scratches her neck now.
Robyn emits a purr-growl combo.
“Well.” Makai laughs. “Wade never was one to step outside his comfort zone, but your mother? That Lark would give any man a dash for his currency.”
The tiger nods, shoulders rising and sinking with each pad of her paws.
“I know they would be proud of you, little cat. Though not so little anymore, are you?”
At that, my favorite Song sister roars. Rearing up on her hind legs, then landing with a thump.
Sometimes I forget how young some of us are. Khloe and Robyn haven’t yet reached eighteen, the Confines on their immature Callings still in place. And no one would know either. The girls handle their gifts like true Guardians. My overprotective, big-brother side wants to keep seeing my sis as a baby in my mother’s arms. But the truth is, she’s years beyond her age.
I really hate that.
Preacher takes up the rear, another loner. But unlike Wren, he’s earned his standoffish status. Stood up to Isabeau the Troll after Em’s coronation, from what I hear. Got a nasty wound from the encounter too. He wears his scars like a badge of honor, never complaining. Except when it comes to people speaking, or moving, or breathing, or pretty much interacting with him at all.
We’re a caravan of misfits. Some Called, some not, but we each have a mission. Pride makes me walk tall. We may just have a chance here.
As long as Josh doesn’t sabotage my plan.
And that’s my cue. Time to reel him in again. I move to stroll beside him. He walks away.
This is how he wants to play it? How far does he believe he’ll get with no sword and his wrists tied? David is going to need everything he’s got to claim his soul back from this imposter in his place.
And by everything I mean love.
Which, according to Commander Archer, is where I come in.
Oh boy, this oughta be fun.
I heave a breath, suppress a yawn. Sheathe my knife and pocket my hands. Then I pursue my brother again. I have half a mind to drape an arm around his shoulders and relish my victory as he cringes. Not much else to do for entertainment mid-desert. I make eye contact with Makai and he raises his eyebrows, nudging me in my efforts to draw the true version of David from the shadows.
A promise is a promise. “So, tell me, Josh . . .” I say his name like it’s fake and we both know it. “Fill me in on this whole sibling thing. How’d you find out?”
He grunts beneath his breath. Apparently being Josh causes him to make more animal noises than the typical male. “How can you be certain I speak the truth? How are you able to believe anything I convey? How is it you can even stand to be near me when I almost ended that little runt’s existence?” He jerks his head in Khloe’s direction.
Fists form deep in my pant pockets, my arms taut and shaking. This guy is asking for it, and the swelling Void within agrees. Its power raises both confidence and terror, and I can’t decide whether I feel completely awesome or as if I want to puke. But when I catch my little sister’s eye and she flashes me a toothy smile that makes her look more five than almost twelve, my fingers relax and the urge to deck my brother subsides.
I shrug. “Valid point,” is all I say.
Khloe must sense the shift in my mood. She abandons her fan club and joins us.
Josh’s nostrils flare.
Skipping along to his right, my sister sings one of the tunes from Breckan and Isaach’s campfire.
“Oh, little desert sparrow,
For all you see and hear,
Can you hear the wind come whistling,
Softly in your ear?
The breeze, it sings a song,
A language of its own,
The air moves swiftly through you,
To guide the sparrow home.”
Khloe’s voice carries, like the wind from her melody. Some of the notes are off-key, but each lyric is full of heart.
The night we spent at Nitegra Compound returns in full color. The night before Em . . .
Disappeared? Was taken? Left?
“Admit it to yourself,” my Void-infested side hisses in my head. “She let go because you weren’t strong enough to hold on. You are weak, pathetic, a sorry excuse for a—”
“Why are you so mean?” Khloe’s innocence squashes my shadowed alter-me.
From the way Josh’s face relaxes, then hardens again, it’s clear he’s caught off guard as well.
“Why are you so annoying?” He gazes down his nose at her, at least a foot shorter than he is.
“Why do you smell like rats?” That’s Khloe for you. Try to kill her and she’ll bounce right back.
“Why don’t you ever shut up?” The words growl out of him.
She giggles. “You’re weird.”
“Well, you’re . . .” His eyes shift. Searching for a comeback? Instead, he just grunts again.
Ha. It would appear our friend Josh has met his match. No need for me to continue agitating him when Khloe can accomplish the task just fine on her own. I leave her to her interrogation, slowing until I’m stride for stride with the Commander.
Makai clears his throat. He does not look at me. “Any progress?”
“I’m working on it.”
“You are much more than I first assumed, Rhyen. After what he did to Khloe, I can scarcely believe how at ease you are around him. Her too.”
“Shadowalker is his vice.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re right. It’s not who he is. We may never be friends, but even I can’t deny that having the true, sword-fighting, stubborn-as-Song David on our side would give us a leg up. I’ll do whatever it takes to end the Void. To get Em back.”
“Indeed. I owe you an apology.”
His comment catches me off balance. What am I supposed to say? We stride in sync without speaking for some time, leaving me to wonder about the Commander’s relationship with my brother. I put the pieces together. If David is my twin, then King Aidan and Queen Ember were my birth parents. The rest isn’t too difficult to navigate. The Verity split between us. And . . .