Текст книги "Fire Fall"

Автор книги: Bethany Frenette

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As soon as the thought took form, I rebelled against it. No one had seen or heard from Iris since the end of December, more than six months ago. She was gone. She’d been swallowed up by the Beneath. She wasn’t coming back. Even her sister, Elspeth, had stopped asking about her.

I told myself I had merely been imagining things. There had been no sound in the stillness. No voice had breathed my name. It was an illusion, my mind playing tricks on me. A fear called forth from my dreams.

I dreamed of Iris often lately. Not as she had been, that sad-eyed girl I had known, whose grief had clouded the air around her, whose smiles had kept her secrets close. When she appeared, she was all fragments and angles, pieces aligning to form a different picture. She was no longer cousin or Kin or even human. Her teeth were red; her eyes were blank. In my dreams, she rewrote memories. In my dreams, she wore Susannah’s face.

The two of them blended together, one body, one being, a changeling that rearranged itself in every shift of light. They stood in the snow atop Harlow Tower, a knife in their grip, their hair streaming out—now bird-wing black, now bright as flame. A boy lay unconscious at their feet. “The beast within him sleeps,” they taunted. Their laughter shook the air. And then their throat was in my hands, and I was squeezing.

I would wake in a blind panic, soaked in sweat. Slowly, deliberately, I would make myself relax; I would remind myself that not all nightmares were Knowings. But even then I was troubled, afraid. Because Susannah was dead, but Iris might not be. And that was the problem.

Iris knew. She knew about Gideon.

No, I told myself again. She was gone. She was nothing.

Now, with effort, I let my hands fall to my sides. I scanned my surroundings once more, if only to reassure myself. There was movement at the end of the block, but it was only a girl on a bicycle, swerving to miss a soccer ball that had been left in the road. The lights of Minneapolis burned all around us, keeping the dark at bay. In the distance, a car horn honked.

Beside me, Leon and Tink were discussing what to do next. Tink was scowling, rubbing her elbow, which she must have scraped when she’d fallen.

“We’re supposed to report in to Ryan whenever there’s an attack,” she was saying. “Time, location, detailed description of incident.”

Leon blinked at her. Since, in addition to being my Guardian, he was basically Mom’s sidekick, most of his patrols were with her—and she didn’t report to anybody. “Seriously?”

Tink scrunched up her face. “Seriously. So he can chart them.”

“What, you mean he keeps some sort of demon-sighting spreadsheet?” I asked.

“You’re surprised by this?”

“No,” I admitted with a laugh. Mr. Alvarez really could not resist the urge to give homework. I was only surprised he didn’t hand out quizzes on the proper technique for fighting demons. Although, now that I thought about it, maybe he did.

Before I could question Tink on the subject, she pulled out her phone, glanced at it half a moment, and then handed it to Leon. “You call,” she said. “I don’t feel like talking to him.” Without waiting for a response, she turned her back and stalked away. She seated herself on the curb a few feet from us, her legs folded up against her.

I went to sit beside her, kicking a pebble onto the street. It skidded into the air, bounced a short distance, and disappeared beneath a car.

Tink hunched her shoulders. “Do not ask me if I’m okay.”

“Okay.” I hesitated. Tink was afraid, and not without reason. Though her injuries tonight were superficial, there was no guarantee she’d survive the next fight, or the one after that. I gazed at the line of blood on her collarbone, crimson already drying into a thin, flaky brown. The rip in her sleeve had widened, baring her shoulder. She wouldn’t look at me, but what I saw of her face was damp with tears.

When she’d first told me she’d been called, I hadn’t understood her reluctance. At the time, I’d wanted nothing more than to be a Guardian myself. That had changed the night Leon and I killed Susannah. Now I no longer knew what I wanted. I could still be called, but it seemed less and less likely that I would be. My seventeenth birthday had come and gone, and though some Guardians weren’t called until their late teens, fifteen and sixteen were more common.

I leaned back on my hands and stared skyward. “You did it, though,” I told Tink. “You fought. You didn’t run away.”

Her voice was quiet. “I was useless.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, you’re right. I was worse than useless.”

“We’re alive. We’re not hurt. And, hey, you didn’t even pee your pants.” I paused and turned toward her again. “Did you?”

“You are so not funny.” But she laughed, wiping the tears from her face.

Leon crossed the sidewalk to us and held Tink’s phone out to her. “He wants to talk to you.”

She groaned but hopped to her feet and took the phone.

I stood and faced Leon, skimming my eyes over him. There were no cuts that I could see in his clothing or skin, and no bruises beginning to spread—though there was a slight smudge of dirt along his jaw. His dark brown hair was tousled, wisps of it curling haphazardly. He was watching me with a tiny furrow in his brow, his blue eyes troubled. I laughed when I realized he was looking me over much as I was doing to him.

Raising my hands in the air, I turned in a circle. “Not even a scrape. You?”

He shook his head, smiling a little.

I stepped forward and looped my arms around his neck. “Thanks for the help,” I said. “And for not dumping me onto my bed and disappearing.”

“Never letting that one go, are you?”

“Nope.”

For a moment, his smile widened into a grin. Then his expression turned serious. “Audrey—”

He wanted to talk about the Harrower fight, I supposed. I didn’t. Not just yet. “Can we do this later?” I asked, sliding my arms back to my sides. I turned away, toward the glow of the skyline.

Tink was still talking to Mr. Alvarez. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but she didn’t look happy. I wondered if there had been more attacks. Though there hadn’t been many incidents since Susannah’s death three months ago, the Guardians were still tracking down the rest of her followers—weaker Harrowers she’d brought up from Beneath, and other stragglers who’d been under her sway for a time. The two demons we’d fought tonight must have been hers, I reasoned. They hadn’t seemed strong enough to breach the Astral Circle—the barrier that protected our world from the Beneath—on their own.

“Okay,” Tink said after a minute, tucking her phone into her pocket. “This patrol is now officially over.”

“You want to come back to my house?” I asked. Her mother—an ER nurse—was on night shift; their apartment would be empty.

Tink sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “I just want to go home.”

Since her car was parked several blocks away, Leon offered to teleport her to it. He reappeared in front of me a moment later, then took my hand and drew me to him. There was a second of blank space, darkness swimming across my vision and a welcoming coolness against my skin, and then we were in the entryway of my house.

Leon flicked on the hall light as I kicked off my shoes. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Tink and I had eaten a quick dinner before we’d left for patrol, but the fight—or perhaps my Amplification—had burned all the energy right out of me. I grinned up at him. “Are you cooking?”

“I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I’d rather have an omelet.”

“At ten at night?”

“What? Is that weird?”

He shook his head and walked toward the kitchen.

The house was dark and hot around me. The air-conditioning was once again broken, so I went from room to room tugging open windows and turning on fans. A moth beat at the screen in the living room, leaving a little film of dust on the mesh. I paused at the sill, gazing into the yard.

Outside, the air smelled of cut grass and humidity. The streetlamps threw shadows across the lawn. Everything was shaded gray and green. Down the road, the beam of headlights sliced through the darkness and then disappeared. I flicked at the moth with one finger, sending it fluttering off into the sticky night. Then I made my way to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching Leon.

Officially, he was no longer living with us. He had his own tiny apartment near the University of Minnesota campus, since Mom considered it irresponsible parenting for me to live with my boyfriend. Never mind that Leon could just teleport into the house whenever he wanted, or that he was always over here, anyway—it was the principle of the thing, Mom said. I didn’t mention that now we just spent most of our time making out at his apartment. And we didn’t have to worry about her walking in on us, which she had done on more than one mortifying occasion. That had led to even further mortification: shortly after Leon and I had started dating, she’d sat me down for a truly excruciating talk, in which she told me that sex was healthy so long as it was safe, and not to do anything until I was ready. I’d chosen to go on birth control—and though I wasn’t quite ready yet, I was having fun getting there.

Leon glanced over his shoulder at me as I stepped into the kitchen. “What do you want in it?”

“Everything.”

Leon was better at baked goods than at entrées, so I decided to help. I rummaged through the fridge until I found a green pepper, then brought it to the counter to chop. Leon had rolled up his sleeves and was busy dicing a tomato into cubes. He had a small pile of ingredients next to him: a block of cheddar to be grated, half an onion sealed in a plastic bag, and a handful of white mushrooms. We had Mickey, Mom’s boyfriend, to thank for the vegetables. He’d clued into the fact that Mom—whose dinner ideas usually came out of cans—frequently forgot to go shopping, and whenever he stopped over he brought a bag of groceries.

I pulled Gram’s big wooden cutting board out from a drawer and placed the green pepper on it, but I didn’t set to work immediately. I simply stood, listening to the quiet of the kitchen. The only sounds were the whir of the overhead fan and the rhythm of the knife in Leon’s hands. I eyed him and frowned. He was silent, concentrating, but I didn’t trust that silence. Though I could never read Leon well with my Knowing, I didn’t need any psychic ability to guess his thoughts. He was going to bring up the fight with the Harrowers again. Right now, he was probably replaying the attack in his mind, every detail, each action and reaction: the Harrowers’ movements, his own movements, mine; Tink hitting the sidewalk; the demon lunging.

I still wasn’t ready to discuss it. I was keenly aware of the fact that I’d hesitated—and that my hesitation had put both Tink and me at risk. And if Leon didn’t know that already, he would soon. Any second now he was going to realize it.

Unless I distracted him.

Without speaking, I left my position near the sink and crossed the kitchen to Leon’s side. He set down his knife and tomato and turned toward me.

“Yes?” he said.

“Hi.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

I studied him a moment. Leon was tall and skinny—what I described as gangly when I was mad at him, lanky when I wasn’t—and he was always well-dressed. Tonight he wore a white-and-gray button-up shirt and a dark blue tie. Though he wasn’t wearing a vest (which was a shame, I thought, since he looked really good in them), and his hair was still mussed from the fight, somehow he managed to appear as though he’d spent the evening at a swanky society function, not battling demons. He’d washed the smudge of dirt from his face. He looked very tidy, but…

He gazed down at me, his expression somewhat suspicious. “Weren’t you going to help?”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Should I be worried?”

I tapped a finger against my lips and made a show of examining his dress shirt. “Uh-oh, I spy a wrinkle,” I said, tracing the offending crease with my thumb. Before he had a chance to respond, I gripped the front of his shirt and tugged it free from his pants. “You should probably take this off and iron it.”

Leon glanced at the wrinkle, then back at me. At first, he didn’t react. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching me. Then, slowly, his face slid into a grin that was pure mischief. One of his eyebrows lifted. He loosened his tie.

And then he vanished.

I blinked at the space where he’d been—which was now occupied by nothing but empty air and the kitchen’s ugly floral wallpaper. The fan whirred above. The hall clock chimed the hour.

I had no doubt about where he’d gone. Since past experience had taught me that yelling his name at the top of my lungs wouldn’t yield the desired result, I resisted the urge. Instead, I fixed a scowl to my face, shoved the omelet ingredients aside, and then pulled myself onto the counter. I perched there, arms folded, and waited.

He reappeared after a minute or so, all immaculate in a fresh, unwrinkled shirt that was nearly identical to his previous one. His tie was once again perfectly positioned. He’d even rolled his sleeves back up. He was still grinning.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” I said, aiming my glower at him. “Way to miss the point.”

He gave me an innocent look. “Which was?”

“You know what it was.” I narrowed my eyes. “So much for not abusing your powers.”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Annoying me?”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

I moved to punch him in the shoulder, but he caught my fist, pushed my hand to the counter, and kissed me.

Immediately, I leaned in to him, kissing him back. He still had my right hand trapped, but I lifted my left, trailing it down along his chest. Beneath my fingertips, I felt the thud of his heartbeat; through the fabric of his shirt, I felt the heat of his skin. Carefully, gently, I tested each of the buttons on his shirt until I found one that seemed loose. My fingers tightened around it. I gave a quick, hard yank. The button came free, sitting snugly in my hand.

Leon drew back to stare at me.

“Oops?” I said.

“Is there a reason you’ve progressed to destruction of property?”

I shrugged. “You should’ve known better than to thwart my will.”

His gaze dipped to where the cloth gapped open, revealing his undershirt. “I guess I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I guess you have.” I set the button aside. “I’ll sew it back on.”

“I’ll hold my breath.”

His mouth found mine again. He kissed me harder this time, capturing both my hands and holding them flat against the top of the counter. Unable to loop my arms around him or run my fingers through his hair, I focused all my attention on the kiss. I inched closer to him, trying to erase all the space between us. For a minute he kept me pinned, but then his hand moved up my back, slipping beneath my tank top. His fingers were hot against my bare skin. I didn’t realize his objective until he deftly unhooked the clasp of my bra. Then both of his hands rose to my shoulders. Still kissing me, he slid the straps out along my arms, freeing first one and then the other—and then removing the bra entirely.

When he broke the kiss and stood back, my bra was dangling from his thumb. He used his other hand to slide his shirt button across the counter toward me. “Nice trophy,” he said. “But mine’s better.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, I decided. I raised my eyebrows at him. “Mom is going to dismember you if she finds you undressing me in the kitchen.”

“You started it.”

I tried to give him a chastening look, but a laugh escaped me instead. He grinned again, then set my bra on the counter beside his button, dragged me against him, and stopped my laughter with his mouth. He probably would have gone right on kissing me for some time if my phone hadn’t started ringing.

I knew by the ringtone that it was my mother, so I planned to ignore it, but Leon released me and took a step back.

“It’s Mom,” I said. I caught his hand and laced my fingers through his, pulling him back toward me. “I swear to God, she has kiss radar or something.”

“You’re not going to answer it?”

“I’m busy.”

“She’s just going to call me if you don’t.”

“You’re busy.”

But Leon, being Leon, dutifully answered the phone when she called him a second later.

“Suck-up,” I muttered, disentangling our hands and hopping down from the counter.

I walked over to the window, leaning toward the screen and staring out into the darkness. The evening had cooled slightly, but what we really needed was rain, I thought. A big thunderstorm to roll in and clean all the humidity out of the air. Or at least drop the temperature.

I was about to return to my green pepper when Leon ended the call.

“Audrey,” he said, touching my arm lightly, concern etched on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I felt a prickle of apprehension along my skin. Not a Knowing, precisely—just the slightest sense of unease, which Leon’s next words did nothing to dispel.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said quickly.

I narrowed my eyes. “Right. I’ll take ‘Sentences Designed to Make People Worry’ for two hundred, Alex.”

Now he looked rueful. “We could have avoided this if you’d just answered the phone.”

“Avoided what?”

“Me, attempting to break news gently.”

“And failing spectacularly,” I said with growing alarm. I grabbed at his arm. “Did something happen to Mom? Was there another attack? Did she get hurt?”

“No, Lucy’s fine.”

“Would you just tell me?”

“It’s Esther,” he said. “She’s in the hospital.”

“If you must hold a vigil,” Esther said, “be kind enough to do it elsewhere. I am not about to expire. I won’t have the lot of you hovering about me as if I’m on my deathbed.” She divided a peevish glare between my grandfather and Elspeth—who were, in fact, hovering—but neither one moved away.

Esther wasn’t on her deathbed, precisely, but she was in a hospital bed—propped up on pillows, with one arm hooked to an IV. According to my grandfather Charles, she’d collapsed following a dinner meeting with some members of the Kin. Her blood pressure was dangerously high, and she was dehydrated, so she was being kept in the hospital a few nights for tests and observation. Esther herself preferred to call it an episode. A minor episode, at that. And she clearly wasn’t happy about all of us crowding into her hospital room the next morning.

I was hanging back slightly, near the window, where the open curtains let in a thin slant of daylight. Leon stood by the door, looking uncomfortable. He would’ve remained in the waiting room if I hadn’t dragged him with me. I felt a little uncomfortable myself. Mom had insisted that I should visit Esther, and then had declined to come along. I’m certain the last thing Esther wants or needs is me invading her space when she’s feeling vulnerable, she’d said. Well, Mom was apparently correct—though it didn’t seem that Esther was feeling particularly vulnerable.

She certainly looked it, though. It was strange, and a little startling, to see her there, surrounded by monitors, her face pale and gaunt beneath the room’s fluorescent lights. The hospital gown she wore emphasized how thin she was, how bony. She seemed frail almost, and I was used to thinking of her as strong. Now I noticed the hollows of her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. The subtle trace of colors that painted her left wrist, burned there by Guardian lights over long years, showed the outline of her veins, the translucence of her skin. Her voice had a raspy quality to it that unsettled me.

When none of us made any move to leave, Esther’s eyebrows snapped together. “Charles,” she said, favoring him with a glower and removing her hand from his grasp. Then her face softened. Charles bent his head and kissed her briefly, stroking her hair. After he’d straightened up once more, Esther nodded and waved her hand toward the door. “Now. Out.”

Charles walked around the side of the bed and laid his arm around Elspeth’s shoulders, guiding her out of the room. Leon, I saw, had already exited. I was turning to go when Esther spoke again.

“Esther, you stay.”

It took me a second to realize she meant me. Though she and I technically shared a first name, I’d only ever used my middle name, Audrey.

“I’ve not gone senile, so you can stop giving me that look,” she said when I swung back toward her. “I merely wanted to remind you of who you are.”

That didn’t bode well. Esther’s reminders usually came along with commands. “Can you not make a habit of it?” I said. “Having two Esthers and an Elspeth might confuse things.”

True to form, her response was an imperious: “Sit.”

The only seat available was the pull-out chair beside her bed. I planted myself at the edge of it, facing her, and waited. She didn’t speak immediately. Twice, she opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. Her brow creased. She cleared her throat. A nurse came in to check on her, and I shifted in my seat, glancing about the room at the monitors, the TV on the wall turned to mute. Charles had brought flowers, and the scent of them mixed oddly with the smell of disinfectant and latex.

When the nurse left, Esther appeared to have collected herself. She lifted an arm and gestured around us. “As you can see, I’m not at my best.”

I eyed her with some suspicion. Esther wanted something from me, or she wouldn’t have asked me to stay. And I wouldn’t put it past her to use her episode—or whatever it had been—to manipulate me. But since it was probably not a good idea to provoke my bedridden grandmother, I told myself not to argue. “Is there something else wrong?” I asked. “Charles said you’re going to be fine.”

“Wrong? No. I’m going to recover.” She paused in order to give me a pointed look. “What I am not going to do, however, is grow younger.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. And I do not require your sympathy, I require your ears—if you think you can unclog them long enough to listen.”

“I always listen to you. I just don’t always agree with you.”

Esther arched her eyebrows.

“Okay, I usually listen to you.”

“I trust you will listen now,” she said. She glanced down at her hands. I followed her gaze—the IV giving her fluids, the gleam of her wedding ring. The knobs of her knuckles were white. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke again. “I have led the Kin here in the Cities for more than twenty years. My father led before me, and his father before him. The St. Croix family has guided the Kin for generations. Charles took my name when we wed—did you know that? No matter—the point is heritage, Audrey. Lineage. Tradition.”

I had a feeling I wouldn’t like where this was heading. Esther had never exactly been subtle about her attempts to mold me into a St. Croix, regardless of my own feelings on the matter. “Are we suddenly a monarchy?”

She gave me a sharp glance. “We lead because the Kin choose to follow. If the leader is not strong, they will choose to follow someone else.” She sighed then, laying her head back against her pillows and closing her eyes briefly. “I’m old. I’m getting tired. And recent events have forced me to consider, rather sooner than expected, who should succeed me.”

She’d taught me about the Kin hierarchy in one of our early sessions, but my memory of it was hazy. I hadn’t seen much point in it, since it wasn’t like a leader could write laws or enforce punishment. From what I understood, it was mostly about communicating with Kin in other areas—coordinating and making certain everything stayed connected. But since Esther apparently took it very seriously, I asked, “Can’t you just hold an election?”

“Traditionally, the outgoing leader appoints a successor. That failing, the elders will confer and make a decision—which the rest of the Kin may or may not abide by. I would prefer not to leave unrest in my wake. But it is not a simple task. Your uncle Elliott has made his life elsewhere. He won’t return. And Adrian is not an option. You and your cousins are far too young. It occurs to me that there is only one proper choice.”

I thought this over. I’d never met my uncle Elliott, who lived in San Diego, but I was surprised Esther would let a minor thing like two thousand miles get in the way of her wishes. I would have expected her to send a summons demanding his immediate return. Though perhaps she had, and he’d simply ignored her. She was right that my father definitely couldn’t lead. His powers had been sealed before I was born; I wasn’t certain he even understood what the Kin was anymore. But—

I sat straight as I realized what she was getting at. “You want Mom to lead the Kin?”

Esther’s eyes glittered. “Who else?”

“What about lineage? Wouldn’t that be the end of the St. Croix dynasty?”

“Unfortunate but unavoidable. And though Lucy is not a St. Croix, she’s the next best thing. She has a St. Croix child. Had she and Adrian ever chosen to make their connection official, she would have been bound to us by marriage. But she isn’t merely Lucy Whitticomb. She is also Morning Star. She is respected by both the Guardians and the rest of the Kin. She is known, and she is trusted. Even held in awe. The Kin will follow her.”

I tried to imagine Mom taking on Esther’s role—planning and organizing, spending all day in meetings, dealing with the Kin elders. I couldn’t do it. Mom barely remembered to feed herself. When I was a baby, she’d once left me in a Target cart and walked halfway down the parking lot before she realized she was missing something. If I didn’t leave her reminders every month, she’d probably forget to pay the bills.

Not to mention that she was a total loner and didn’t give a damn about what the rest of the Kin thought of her.

“What about Mr. Alvarez?” I asked. He wasn’t a St. Croix, but at least he was actually involved with the Kin. “Couldn’t he do it?”

“Ryan is a good boy—but he is busy with the Guardians. And he is too young as well. Too innocent. Too raw. No. It must be Lucy.”

“But…Mom doesn’t lead. You said that yourself.”

“Meaning that she is unwilling, not that she is incapable.”

I had a feeling the unwilling part was where I came in, but I asked anyway. “Okay. So why are you telling me?”

“Your mother and I have not always seen eye to eye. I’m afraid we don’t have the best relationship.”

That was something of an understatement. She and Mom were on slightly better terms these days than they had been a few months ago, but that wasn’t saying much. Their latest disagreement had been on the subject of Mom’s choice of boyfriends—which Esther had somehow decided was her business. Esther didn’t think Mom should be dating outside the Kin, especially since Mom was only half-blooded herself.

“I’ve already done my procreating,” Mom had said, nodding in my direction. “You’re looking at her.”

“Accidents do occur,” had been Esther’s response.

Her tone hadn’t left much room for misinterpretation. “Thanks a lot,” I’d said.

“You weren’t an accident,” Mom had answered. “Just a surprise.”

And then Esther had replied, “I believe my point has been made.”

So I couldn’t exactly blame Mom for not listening to anything Esther had to say.

Now, I folded my arms as I looked at Esther. “You think I’m somehow going to be able to convince her to follow in your footsteps?”

She smiled wryly. “No. One does not convince Lucy of anything. She either does something, or she doesn’t. I only want you to discuss the matter with her.”

“And when she says no?”

“I’ll fight that battle when I come to it,” she said. “You may leave now. Send in Elspeth.” She made a gesture of dismissal that was somehow regal, despite the hospital gown and the IV and the pillows propped behind her.

I lingered for a moment in the hall outside her room, listening to the chatter from the nurse’s station. There was something Esther wasn’t telling me. I sensed that, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to explore it. I’d learned recently there was some truth to the notion that ignorance is bliss. Whatever secrets Esther had, she was welcome to keep them. Some doors were better left closed.

I found Elspeth in the waiting room, curled up on the sofa with her legs drawn up beneath her, watching the news. The room was mostly deserted, save for two elderly women who sat in the far corner, conversing in hushed tones, and a man pacing back and forth with a crying toddler on his hip. Leon stood next to the window, occupied with his phone, but he glanced up when I entered and gave me a faint smile.

“Your turn,” I said, seating myself on the couch beside Elspeth. “Her Majesty beckons.”

Elspeth let out a short laugh, leaning back and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She’d recently cut her hair pixie short, but she was letting it grow back out, and now it hung just past chin length. I was a little jealous of how perfect she always managed to look. My own hair was a mess of brownish curls that the humidity had wreaked havoc upon. “At least we know she’s feeling better,” Elspeth said. Then she wrinkled her brow. “Your Amplification lessons might have to be put on hold, though.”

“I can train with Leon,” I said. Personally, I didn’t think I needed any more lessons. Now that I knew how to control my Amplification, it was simply a matter of practice, and I could figure that much out on my own. But Esther insisted I work on focusing and strengthening exercises, so I still spent an afternoon each week with her in St. Paul.

“That’s probably more fun, anyway,” Elspeth said with a grin.

I grinned back. I was glad to see that Elspeth had recovered much of her sunny demeanor. She had been devastated by Iris’s betrayal six months ago. She’d missed school and stopped eating, and eventually Esther had decided that a change of setting was necessary. Esther had sent her away from the Cities for a time.

Iris’s loss was still a grief Elspeth carried, but it seemed to weigh on her less now. She’d developed a friendship with Daniel—the boy Susannah had held captive, using his Knowing to help her search for the Remnant—and though he was back in San Diego, I knew they had stayed in touch. And she was once again active in the Guardian community.

“I heard you and Tink were attacked last night,” she said, keeping her voice low, though the other occupants of the room were busy with their own conversations.