Page 42 of Insolence
Horrifiedisn’t an apt enough word to describe it.
Shrouded in shadows again, Kerrigan bends over the motionless mound that used to be a breathing, screaming woman. Then she’s dragging the poor girl like a corpse,disappearing into shadows and back around the corner. Gone as if none of it happened.
A door opens somewhere and, a few moments later, slams so hard it rattles my bones. I cower, rooted in place.
The finches are worn ragged. Disjointed shrieks still go up, but it’s nowhere near the caterwauling from before. If not for that, I’d be questioning my perception of reality.
Managing to get myself somewhat under control, I creep to the edge of the walkway and risk peeking into the atrium.
Nobody’s down there. A quick look around confirms nobody’s on the other walkways either. Other than Sister Ailen—wherever the hell she went—nobody knows I saw that.At least for now.
Head spinning, nausea churning my gut, I find my room and close myself inside.
Alone in the dark, I’m technically safe, but dread settles in my bones. I’m shaking all over—trembling so hard, my teeth chatter. Tears stream down my face, but I can’t pinpoint at what point I started bawling.
“GET OUT. RUN. DON’T LET THEM—”
“What?” I sit on the floor at the foot of my bed, sobbing into my hands. “Don’t let them dowhat?”
I’d give anything to know the end of that sentence, and yet, I’m grateful that I don’t.
“Whatisthis place, and who in the hell put me here?” I cry into the static silence. “Because it sure as shit wasn’t me!”
Part 2
The Screamer
Chapter 12
El
Approximately 4.5 Years Ago
Always.
There have always been birds for as far back as I can remember. They somehow find a way to reach me, time and again. Sometimes they even show me things.
The problem lies in decoding the message.
When I was younger, my Pop once told me, “The old ways are strong with you.” He didn’t say, “Keep it to yourself.”
He didn’t have to. By that time I was well aware how most folks don’t understand changelings. They aren’t sympathetic.
Peregrine falcons mate for life. Pop taught me that. He taught me everything I know about birds and everything I know about foraging. The two of us would spot all manner of wildlifeout in the scrubby steppe lands surrounding Aronya Dar when I was younger. On the hunt for ingredients for Ma’s pigments.
Several mated pairs make their home in the city proper, keeping pigeons and other nuisances under control. I often see them together, wheeling and climbing above the tiled rooftops. Tearing through the sky in blinding stoops to ambush prey.
I’ll sit with paper and charcoal, sketching them when I have a moment.
One mid-Harvestmoon morning, a peregrine is waiting for me on top of the hill at the end of our street.
It’s still early. I’m the only person on this particular stretch. The Festival of Eisha is nearing, and the day promises to be hot. I’m rushing to run an errand between spates of rain showers.
I climb the hill and stop, recognizing this particular female. It’s her size and the pattern of her speckled breast feathers that give her away. She’s half of a breeding pair who’ve made their nest in my family’s neighborhood.
Her warning call begins as soon as I reach the top. Halts me in my tracks. She’s strangely alone, lingering in the middle of the street. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’swaitingfor me—despite the chain of shrieks tearing from her throat.
There’s no mistaking them for anything other than the alarm cries they are. So I back away slowly, figuring she’s simply trying to ward me off.
