have.
In the distance, a child spoke softly. Around a bend, the path gave way to a churned-up mess of ash and bone and mud. Kyle knelt in the muck, talking to a bird perched on a child’s skull, a scrap of flesh dangling from its beak.
Johnny ran past me to kneel beside his brother. Kyle looked up at him, then turned back to the bird. A slick of the younger boy’s hair stuck up, because of course he’d forgotten his hat.
“He’s hungry.” Kyle’s face was smudged with mud and ash. “It’s not the bird’s fault that he’s hungry.”
“I know.” The gentleness in Johnny’s voice surprised me. “You ready to come home, kid?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
“You went after him,” I said to the older boy.
Johnny didn’t look away from his brother. “Somebody had to.”
A wind picked up, blowing ash toward us. The crow looked up from the skull, which was missing its two front teeth.
“He’s not happy.” Kyle wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing ash across his nose. He wasn’t wearing gloves, either.
I crouched by his other side. “Kyle, what are you doing here?”
“Running away,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Third time this month,” Johnny muttered. “And the farthest he’s managed to get yet.” He reached for Kyle’s hand, but Kyle stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. Could I use my magic to send him all the way home?
The crow cawed from its branch. “Look out!” Kyle yelled.
Johnny and I grabbed our knives as other crows answered from the trees all around us. Wing beats pounded the air as the birds attacked.
My blade grazed a black wing. A sharp claw scraped my cheek.
“Go ’way, go ’way, go ’way!” Kyle echoed.
“Get down!” Johnny shouted at him.
My blade drew blood this time, and a crow dropped to the ground. The others whirled and took to the sky. I stepped back, panting, as the birds became black specks against gray clouds. How hungry did they have to be to attack us all at once?
“I told
I sheathed my knife. Just then I didn’t care who Kyle thought had sent the birds away, as long as they were gone.
Johnny grabbed his brother’s hand. “Time to go, kid. I mean it.”
Kyle shook his head. I wiped blood from my cheek and looked around, scanning the trees. If more crows lurked there, they blended with bark and branch as well as before. Sunlight forced its way through the clouds, reflecting off something shiny at my feet. A child’s silver bracelet, with dangling charms: a heart, a key, a cat. I reached for it.
The bracelet shone brighter, too bright for the gray afternoon. Silver light filled my sight and I saw—
An elbow jabbed my side, and Johnny hissed under his breath. My fingers closed around the bracelet as the visions fled. A girl stood in front of me, the clear-haired girl I’d just seen—the same girl who’d watched a town burn with Ethan by her side.
I hadn’t heard her coming, any more than I’d ever heard Johnny.
The girl’s green dress and cloak were dusted with ash. So were her battered black boots. Her clear hair was pulled back by a silver butterfly, its bright legs twisted to form the clasp. She stared at us, stiff and straight-backed. I glanced at her silver eyes and knew she was no more human than Karin or Caleb.
Karin and Caleb had taught me not all faerie folk were monsters, but that didn’t mean they all could be trusted. I dropped the bracelet and waited, hand within reach of my knife, to see what this stranger would do. Johnny clutched Kyle’s hand, the older boy’s shoulders tensed.
Kyle frowned. “The butterfly doesn’t like it there.”
The girl reached around to touch the clasp, and the wings trembled beneath her hand. “It has been there many years, and butterflies are not accustomed to living so long. Would you have me kill it?” The girl spoke with idle curiosity.
What role had she played in the burning of the dead children around us—and why was she the only child from my visions untouched by Ethan’s fires? “Who are you?” I demanded.
Johnny rolled his eyes. “Charming as always.” The wariness didn’t leave him, but he held out his hand. “I’m Johnny. This is Kyle and Liza.”
I gave him a sidelong look. I would have kept our names from this stranger, at least until we knew why she was here. Names had power. I’d learned that laying shadows to rest.
“You may call me Elin.” The girl absently poked a bone with her boot. There were thorns woven into the hem of her dress and the edges of her sleeves. “Kyle. Johnny. Liza.” She turned the words on her tongue. “I think you should come with me.” Her voice took on a velvet softness. My skin tingled, as if her words were trying to take root there. Perhaps I’d only imagined it.
Perhaps not. I knew better than to ignore any instinct of danger. I turned toward Johnny, not letting Elin wholly out of my sight. “You should get Kyle home.”
“Yeah.” Johnny’s voice was strange, as if he weren’t quite awake. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” He stepped back, pulling Kyle with him. The younger boy jerked away and threw his arms around Elin’s legs.
“Stay with you!” he declared.
Elin looked down as if Kyle were a distasteful insect she’d found in her bedding. She turned to Johnny and me. “You’ll both come, too, of course.”
Johnny’s gaze softened. “Sure. Why not?”
Kyle reached toward Elin’s hair. Elin smiled, removed her clasp, and put it into his hands. Her clear hair fell to her waist. The butterfly’s silver antennae quivered, and I felt something cold within the clasp reaching for me, begging to be set free.
Kyle smiled and patted the butterfly’s wings, as if he hadn’t wanted to free it himself moments before. The wings began to flap. “Pretty,” he said.
Kyle clutched the butterfly in one hand as he walked toward me, dragging his feet. I grabbed his other hand. Johnny slouched, as if he didn’t much care whether he listened to me or not, yet I felt the cold thread of my magic between us. “You always take everything so seriously,” he complained as he moved to my side.
I grabbed his hand, too. “Come on.”
