Love Me, Love Me Not - Alyxandra Harvey

Dating isn’t easy when you’re in the middle of a blood feud. Anastasia Vila’s family can turn into swans, but just once she’d like them to turn into responsible adults. After hundreds of years, they still cling to the blood feud with the Renard family. No one remembers how it started in the first place— but foxes and swans just don’t get along. Vilas can only transform into their swan shape after they have fallen in love for the first time, but between balancing schoolwork, family obligations, and the escalating blood feud, Ana’s got no time for love. The only thing

keeping her sane is her best friend, Pierce Kent. But when Pierce kisses Ana, everything changes. Is what Pierce feels for her real, or a byproduct of her magic? Can she risk everything for her best friend? And when the family feud spirals out of control, Ana must stop the fight before it takes away everything she loves. Including, maybe…Pierce. This Entangled Teen Crave book contains language, violence, and lots of kissing. Warning: it might induce strong feelings of undeniable attraction for your best friend.

Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen

Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Alyxandra Harvey… Red Discover more of Entangled Teen Crave’s books… Touching Fate Jane Unwrapped

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Copyright © 2016 by Alyxandra Harvey. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher. Entangled Publishing, LLC 2614 South Timberline Road Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525 Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com. Crave is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. Edited by Stacy Abrams and Lydia Sharp Cover design by LJ Anderson Cover art from Dollar Photo Club ISBN 978-1-63375-535-2 Manufactured in the United States of America First Edition February 2016

Chapter One ANA On the night of the full moon, we danced.

ANA And you’d think with seventeen of us, no one would miss me. You’d be wrong. It’s not that I don’t like dancing—but

every month, every full moon? I mean, I have homework to do. Not all of us are home-schooled— much to my aunt Aisha’s disgust. I was ducking under the grapevine arbor when she found me. Aisha’s totem shape was the prettiest, and the meanest. Ever taken the tip of a swan wing to the head? It’s not fun. And try explaining why you have a huge bruise on your forehead. She flapped her wings again, just enough to pull at my long hair. We’re not allowed to cut it. They say there’s power in hair—and you have no idea. I tried

once when I was six. I thought Aisha’s head was going to explode. Dad was the one to take the scissors away and I didn’t get them back until I was fifteen. A feather floated down, brushing my shoulder briefly before it fell into the tall grass. I tucked it into my pocket. “Okay, okay,” I muttered, turning around to take the trail to the hill. The aunts had their own gatherings, but the cousins went as deep as we could into the forest behind Cygnet House. It was a perfect summer evening, warm enough that I didn’t need the

traditional blue Vila family cloak over my white dress. The hem floated and billowed around my knees. When we danced, it was like we were made of dandelion seeds. Who knows? Maybe we are. It’s as good a theory as any. But the truth is our feet blister and our ankles creak and still we dance. Without it we wither, turning first to thorn then to nothing at all. That was why my aunt’s reminders were so violent. Because I knew better. And I wanted my swan wings as much as the others. I just wanted to pass my last year of classes,

too. But, homework or no homework, we gathered every month and moon to sing the old songs and dance. I crossed the lawn and across the garden of white roses climbing up trellises and down over benches perfect for kissing—or so my cousins kept telling me. I didn’t know because Edward was annoyingly uncooperative, no matter how many times I awkwardly stared at him in school. He was sweet and serious, always wearing black and looking thoughtful. We’d had the same

English classes all through high school, but I had yet to say anything remotely intelligent to him. Or anything at all, really. Mostly I just stared while trying not to stare. It was kind of pathetic. We were supposed to be really good at flirting in my family. Clearly, I was defective. At this rate, I’d never get my feather cloak. The cousins had started without me. The moon waits for no one. They all wore white dresses too, some short, some long, sleeveless or slinky or sweet. We were as pale as the moon,

especially with our identical whiteblond hair. Even Mei Lin, and Julia whose father moved here from Mexico; we all have the same light hair, no matter our heritage. Story threw a bright smile my way. Her shoulders gleamed with sweat, exposed by her glittering white sari. Next to her, her sister Sonnet was fierce and sharp, like an icicle. I was really glad my mother named me something relatively innocuous like Anastasia. Ana is so much better than Story or Sonnet or poor Soliloquy. It wasn’t at all obvious

that Aunt Agrippina was obsessed with poetry. I gave in to the moment, the hard slap of my feet on the ground, the wind sighing through the grass when we sang. It fed us, the wild and the wind. It made us who we were, connected us to the beetles and rabbits and the owls with blood on their beaks. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been bounding and twirling, but it was long enough that the space under my ribs burned. I could have been flying instead of leaping. Sasha stepped out of the chain and

toward the cloak of white feathers on the boulder crowning the hill. She wore so many roses I could barely see her hair. This was her night. She was only fifteen, but she was giving up the blue cloak of childhood. She’d found her swan cloak. She’d fallen in love. Which also meant she’d had to sew swan feathers onto her old blue cloak until it turned into something else, until it turned her into something else. We gathered those feathers as soon as we were old enough to know what they were. If you fell in love and you had

nothing with which to turn your cloak, you were lost. I could see the bloody pinpricks on Sasha’s fingertips, the gooseflesh on her bare arms. Our song crashed at her feet like the tide coming in, full of broken sailors and drowned hearts. As she flung the cloak over her round shoulders, there was a flash of summer lightning, pink as cotton candy. I could taste it, electricity and sugar. Sasha’s face was peaceful, perfect, until a twinge of panic, of pain, and then she was in the air. Her arms turned to

shadow and light and feather. Her neck was long and slender. Story wept, desperate for her own cloak. Sonnet sneered. She’d end up in the woods with the feral aunts. I had no idea where I was going to end up if Edward didn’t notice me soon. Sasha flapped her powerful wings until tiny downy feathers wafted around us like snow. They clung to our hair, to the roses, to the milkweed pods not quite ready to burst. She flew away to join the aunts. There was a brief whirlwind, pressing us together, stirring the grassy

fields like a cauldron. And then Sasha was gone. But we weren’t alone. I almost didn’t hear it. It was such a small squeak of surprise, lost in our excited laughter. The lightning forked, leaving its pink cloud. Another squeak. There at the bottom of the hill, lying in the grass. Two guys. Sonnet was the first to reach for her bow. The arrows were wrapped with our hair to cause forgetfulness. Sometimes they worked too well and

boys forgot everything. And if they weren’t Renard boys, there’d be a new family feud. And if they were Renards, there would be blood. A lot of it. Sonnet loosed her arrow, the bowstring singing its own song. I jostled her, breaking her aim. When the arrow thudded into the grass, she shot me a glare that may as well have been a hissing serpent tossed at my head. The others split around her like a river around a rock. The moon followed us, stabbing light between the trees as we

ran. How had they found us? Where did they come from? What had they seen? Questions pounded through me in time with my thudding pulse. If they’d seen Sasha’s transformation, I wouldn’t be able to help them. Even I’d have to shoot them with an arrow. No one knew our family secrets, and we worked hard to keep it that way. Sometimes, we did things I wasn’t entirely proud of. The boys were fast, fueled by panic and confusion and possibly beer, but one of them kept glancing back and stumbling

to a stop. He’d seen enough to be half in love already, entranced and bewildered. Usually it was enough to protect us, even without the arrows. “Dude, don’t stop!” His friend pulled him into a run again with a strangled, disbelieving laugh. The voice was familiar. I tried to trip Sonnet and she punched me so hard I dropped to my knees. Someone else’s arrow whistled by, nearly taking out her left eye. She snarled. Someone giggled, Rosalita maybe. She was the one who flirted like it was her life’s calling. We had other

weapons, after all. Some of the prettiest flowers are poisonous. I got to my feet in time to see the guys stumble out into the fields. If they hadn’t seen Sasha, we’d just be the story of the girls they saw dancing at midnight. We circled, barely noticeable among the birches. One of them thumped at his chest, gasping. “What the hell, Jackson?” Jackson wiped the sweat off his face with his arm. “Did you see that?” “Shit,” I muttered. The voices were familiar because these were Pierce’s younger brothers: Jackson and Eric.

Pierce Kent was my best friend and he knew everything about me. His brothers most definitely didn’t. When Pierce first found out about me, Aunt Aisha terrorized him into agreeing to complete silence. Otherwise, he’d have been shot with an arrow and forgotten all about me. I’d cried so hard at the thought that Aunt Aisha had actually relented. Well, she did what passed as relenting for her, anyway. It was enough. I had my best friend and no one would take him from me. “Abort mission!” I hissed to my

cousins. “Hold your fire!” An arrow flew past my head. “Just stop it!” Rosalita stepped out first, mostly because she was too far away for me to tackle to the ground. Her blond hair curled into ringlets down to her hips. Jackson nearly swallowed his tongue. She spent most of the time luring swans to the lake behind the house. She’d raised a gosling once but it kept biting her. “Y-You…” Jackson stammered at Rosalita. “I saw—” “Hello.” She smiled. Sonnet lowered

her bow, disgusted. She much preferred shooting boys with arrows to flirting. Rosalita’s weapons were glossy hair and pouty lips, and as often as not, they worked just as well. That pissed Sonnet off even more. Jackson blinked as though he’d looked into the sun for too long. “I’m Jackson Kent. This is my little brother Eric.” “Younger brother,” Eric hastened to point out, scowling. “By like eleven months.” Rosalita reached out to trace the collar of Jackson’s shirt. Even without

the whole swan-first-love thing, Rosalita was a menace. I almost felt sorry for him. “We’re in a dance troupe,” I explained, joining Rosalita before the others could move in. Jackson couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, but I assumed he could still hear. “We were rehearsing.” Sometimes it worked, if they were too drunk or besotted to wonder about dance troupes who practiced in the middle of the night with the mosquitos. But we lived just outside of Stratford, where

they put on Shakespearean plays and built faux Tudor houses for the tourists. Someone was always rehearsing something. And there were swans everywhere. Seriously, every spring, twenty-four swans were piped down to the river with great ceremony by men in kilts, and I was related to at least half of them. The swans, not the pipers. It became another one of our own personal family traditions. “Ana, hi.” Eric nodded once, finally noticing me. His Adam’s apple twitched when he swallowed. His body was

reacting to danger, even if Jackson was too befuddled to notice. Then Pierce came through the trees, swearing. “Jesus, you two. What the hell do you think— Oh.” He saw me and stopped. “Ana. Shit.” Rosalita sneered before vanishing into the undergrowth, Jackson moving to follow her. An arrow slammed next to his foot. “Don’t,” I advised him. The next one would go through his heart. It wouldn’t actually kill him, but it might feel like it had. “But she’s so beautiful.”

“And clearly not interested, asshat,” Pierce said. Jackson blinked at me. “You’re kinda pretty too, Ana.” “Gee, thanks,” I said drily. I sang a verse of an old song, just enough to have them blink at me, confused. Pierce and I exchanged a commiserating glance. “Wait in the truck, idiots,” he said. He watched their retreating backs and flailing limbs. “It’s like watching ostriches run.” “You’d better make sure they don’t come back tomorrow night,” I said. “Or

one of my cousins really will shoot him.” He grinned at me. I frowned. “What?” “I’ve never seen you in a dress. It’s so…girly.” I shoved him. “Shut up, Kent.” He just laughed.

PIERCE I grabbed the back of Jackson’s jacket and propelled him toward the truck. Eric scrambled after him. “Both of you shut up and get in.” “Wait until Nana hears about this.”

“Don’t even think about it.” I glared at him, mustering every ounce of olderbrother-intimidation I had; memories of Nana hanging him upside down, throwing him into lakes, and forcing him to clean out the barn with a hangover. That would come in the morning. I’d make sure he had barn chores before the sun rose. “Leave it alone. You know how she is.” “Crazy.” Eric snorted. I glanced at him through the rearview mirror. He shrugged. “Well, she is.” I didn’t say anything, mostly because

he wasn’t wrong. I drove away with a lurch of spit gravel, searching the trees for a glimpse of a white dress all the way home. The storm winds cleared up by the time we reached the cabin. Either the alcohol or the blood had finally gotten to Jackson, who lurched into the bushes to be sick. Eric just ducked his head down and hurried inside, the screen door slamming behind him. The blue light of the television flickered from the living room window onto the lawn. Nana would be asleep in her chair, beer on the

table and rifle by the door. The iron wind chimes she made and hung in the trees clinked like dinner knives. I texted Ana at three in the morning, because if I had to suffer, so did she. Jackson is singing an 80s love ballad about Rosalita. Save me. She replied instantly. Rock on, dude. Maybe he’ll grow a mullet. If he starts with the air guitar, I’m moving in with you. You wouldn’t like it. We mostly sing bloody sea shanties and ballads about dead lovers.

You’re a ray of sunshine, Vila, as always. Go to sleep. But I knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight. Instead, I sat on the wooden step and stared up at the stars for a long time, trying to forget the way Ana’s soft simple song had tightened around me like a rope. She had no idea what she did to me.

Chapter Two ANA On the second night of the full moon, we danced. There were no interruptions, because Pierce hid Jackson’s bicycle.

ANA

At dawn I met Sonnet, Mei Lin, and Rosalita at the farm gates. It was our turn to feed the magic that kept us hidden from casual passersby and, more importantly, the Renards. The feud between our families was simmering on a relatively low heat. Twelve years ago was the last time there’d been an outright battle. My mom died before it ended. I was five years old. And even then I knew what it meant to be Vila: you took out the Renards before they took you out. We still occasionally found swan wings nailed to the hydro posts in our

neighborhood. They couldn’t find Cygnet House, but they had tracking magic the way we had healing magic, and they’d long since figured out we were in this vicinity. Aunt Aisha wore a fox tail in her hair sometimes when she was feeing particularly feral. Swans and foxes just didn’t get along. To say my family was not like other families was an understatement. It wasn’t enough that we had magic in a world that didn’t believe in it, and that we had to keep our magic hidden at all costs—we also had the joys of a magical

family feud. Which, by the way, started so long ago that no one could actually remember what the hell we were fighting about anymore. It had become an inherited quality, like blue eyes or lactose intolerance, only we had inherited stupidity. And I was so over it. Problem was, no one else seemed particularly bothered. So every sunrise some of us trampled through the dew to anoint the gates with Renard blood. It’s as gross as it sounds. It was collected from the last battle and we used it to shield ourselves from

them. We smear a little on our foreheads when we dance, too, to keep us hidden. Magic is not particularly hygienic. We also had a collection of stolen Renard pendulums in a glass cabinet in the house. They were made of fox teeth and their magic wouldn’t respond to us no matter how we tried. But in the mornings, we used their blood. We sang an old ballad as we worked, because it was tradition. We wore our white moon dresses, because it was tradition. The wind twisted through the long

grass to listen to us sing a song no one remembered anymore. It was about a sly fox and the way he was caught. For Reynard, sly Reynard lay hid there that night; And we swore we would watch him until the daylight. No wonder people thought we were weird. Luckily they couldn’t see Rosalita painting a smear of blood on the ground between the iron gates. She used a birch twig because, again, that was tradition. Magic tingled through us until the air shimmered and glowed just a little more

than direct sunlight could explain. Tally-ho, hark away, tally-ho, hark away; Tally-ho, hark away me boys away, hark away. Rosalita tossed the twig aside. “If there’s blood on my dress I’m going to be really pissed.” We had to wash our moon dresses by hand in a wooden tub painted with swans. We also had to gather the kindling ourselves to light the fire to boil the water mixed with lavender, marigold petals, grown in our gardens. Apparently the washing machine just wasn’t good enough for

magic dresses and magic cloaks. Rosalita stormed off, followed by Mei Lin, who shuffled behind her, yawning. She was definitely not a morning person. “I’m going to patrol,” Sonnet said, crossing over into the fields. She wasn’t a morning person either, but she loved the idea of stabbing an unwary Renard. “I guess that leaves me to find Aisha,” I muttered. We had to check in after the spell was strengthened. I liked visiting Aunt Aisha even though she lived in the woods behind the house. It was her twin sister, Morag, I could do without. I knew

it wasn’t her fault, but she was a lot to take in. The forest behind the house was hundreds of acres with secret creeks and ponds and enough pine and cedar to offer decent cover even in the winter. Swans might blend in the snow but naked girls didn’t. Aisha and Morag lived in a small shack made mostly of cedar trees and pine boughs. A fire burned inside all day and all night during the colder months. Technically, Aisha only slept here; she was the only one who could keep Morag calm. When her

cloak was stolen, Morag went feral in a way the other aunts didn’t. She got it back, but she was already different. Our cloaks were a part of us, even before we got our wings. The loss of our wings— or not getting them in the first place— tended to leave its mark. If Edward didn’t ask me out soon, the future might be grim. Aunt Felicity lost her cloak as well but had never found it again. She reacted in the opposite way; she hadn’t left the house in twenty-three years. Her oddness was strangely delicate: she

sighed and fluttered and stared off into space. Morag offered me dead mice as playthings, and that was on her gentle days. Today was not a gentle day. She wore a necklace of swan feathers, the spines broken and frayed. She’d also made a crown of more feathers and dandelions and red leaves for her hair. It rested on her soft afro, more sad than regal. She wasn’t crazy, not really. She just never stopped being a swan. She was eating a handful of berries and the head of a raw fish when I walked into

the clearing. She hissed and threw the fish guts at me. I only managed to duck away unscathed because of long practice. And Aisha’s strict training regimen to protect us against the Renards. Mostly it protected us from each other. “I’ll take your cloak, girl,” she seethed. “Or I’ll take your spine.” “Good morning to you too, Aunt Morag.” Swans are known to be territorial and vicious in their defense. Morag was no different. She lifted her arms up and

back as though they were wings and rushed at me. I backed up so quickly my hair tangled in a low-hanging branch. She laughed, shrill and sharp. “He made a harp o’ her breast-bone, Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone. The strings he framed of her yellow hair.” When your day started with decadeold battle-blood and your aunt singing about making a harp from your bones and your hair, it’s probably best just to go back to bed. “Hush, Morag.” Aunt Aisha came from behind, tugging my hair free with a

painful yank. “Eat your breakfast before the ants steal it.” Morag crouched over her meal, shoulder hunched protectively. Aisha’s hair was honey-hued and twisted into short dreadlocks. She didn’t wear feathers or flowers, just old jeans and a hunting knife at her belt. “Shield spell is up?” I nodded. “Rosalita did it.” “Ana,” Aunt Aisha called out as I picked my way between the trees. “Don’t skip the moon dancing tonight.” As if she’d let me.

PIERCE I was late for school again. Nana had no respect for timetables that didn’t include her. And she had no respect for my books. I found her stuffing a garbage bag full of them. “You read too much,” she snapped when I grabbed the bag from her. “It makes you weak.” Actually, it made me strong. But she was currently making me hyperventilate. It took me years to build my collection. I haunted the used bookstores and library sales the way Ana haunted the ponds

gathering swan feathers. “Nana, I need these.” “You need food and air. Not books.” “Then you’ll be getting rid of your rifle collection. You only need the one.” “Don’t sass me.” Nana loved her guns. To be fair, her hunting abilities kept us fed. But I was proving a point here. I held the bag behind my back. “You can’t throw out my books.” I was going to have to get a new lock for my bedroom door. And store most of my books in the truck for a while. “They distract you.”

“Good,” I shot back. Jackson poked his head in from the porch. “Are we going or what?” I worked at the café to pay the bills around this falling-down cabin. I knew how to hang a pheasant until it turned green, how to skin a rabbit, and how to find turkeys in the woods. Not to mention the fact that I was in love with my best friend who was some kind of magical swan creature in her spare time. Maybe escaping was okay once in a while. Like right now.

“We have to get to school,” I said. I took the bag of books with me.

ANA “Not this again.” There was the soft rumble of a fight brewing: the telltale rise in voices, the scuff of shoes on the pavement of the school’s outdoor courtyard, that magnetic pull of faces all turning in the same direction. I was determined to ignore it, bent over my open history textbook on the picnic table. The moon dancing had eaten into my homework

time, and if I fell behind in history, I would be so pissed. “It’s Rosalita,” Mei Lin told me, standing on the bench to get a better look. She was eating a rope of red licorice, as always. “Of course it’s Rosalita,” I shot back. She may as well have told me night is dark and water is wet. “It’s always Rosalita. And you owe me ten bucks. You said she’d last until Halloween before the first fight.” Mei Lin made a face at me. I turned back to my book, but the agitated shouts

continued to press on my concentration. I tried to focus on my class notes. Napoleon. France. Someone started a chant, clapping and stomping in unison on the ground. Napoleon invades Russia. In winter. Short guy in a funny hat. Damn it. Once Rosalita got a spoonful of male attention she was instantly drunk on it. She’d flutter around the farm all night until I’d want to stick her with one of her own arrows. Not to mention she always got worse on the days she poured the

Renard blood. And if I was refusing to be distracted by Edward for the first time ever, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be distracted by her violent flirting. I pushed through the crowd more forcefully than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t their fault that my cousin was annoying. Still, they were in my way, chanting and yelling and hoping to see blood on the grass. And frankly, our family couldn’t afford to be associated with any more blood. The two boys currently fighting were Samuel, who Rosalita had dated over the

summer, and Jackson. It didn’t bode well that he was already throwing punches for Rosalita and it hadn’t even been twentyfour hours since she’d flirted with him in the woods. I’d hoped he’d be distracted by her enough not to question our excuses, but not like this. Not with the magic taking root inside him. Rosalita flipped her hair. I was never going to get any studying done. “Hey!” I marched right into the fight, slamming my elbow down on Jackson’s outstretched arms. His hands fell away

from Samuel’s throat. It wasn’t enough. They went at each other again, colliding with enough force to knock me backward. I landed on my tailbone, pain shooting up my spine. Students loomed over me, laughing and yelling even louder. Not for the first time, I considered homeschooling. Especially when Edward caught my eye, wincing sympathetically. Liv stood next to him, smirking. She always managed to show up when I was being embarrassed. I blamed it on her Renard

genes. Her red hair was the color of a fox pelt. I’d tried to yank it out when we were seven. Once I caught my breath and was reasonably certain I hadn’t splintered anything necessary, I scooted closer. I kicked Samuel first because I’d never liked him—he’d cornered me against the lockers once. Possibly I used a bit of my own magic to make his yell sound like a toy-squeak. I kicked the back of his knee next and he pitched forward, taking Jackson with him. I considered knocking their skulls together, but I was pretty

sure I’d get detention for that. Plus, it was mostly Rosalita’s fault. She was singing something under her breath and the wind shivered through the trees, sprinkling red-edged leaves over us. She was the real reason I’d nearly broken my ass. When we sang, magic always answered. I didn’t stay to watch, or to get caught by the principal currently running across the lawn toward us, waving his hands frantically. Pierce fell into step with me. “Nice moves, Vila.”

He smirked. I tried not to smirk back, but as always, it was a losing battle. “Aren’t you going to check on your brother?” He just snorted. “If Jackson landed on his head, he’s fine. He puked all morning, which he totally deserves.” “Damage control?” He shook his head. “Nothing about swans, believe me I’d have heard about it. But he won’t shut up about hot girls chasing them. It’s like a slumber party summer camp daydream to them.” “Ew. But that’s pretty much what I told

Aunt Aisha, so you shouldn’t have half a dozen insane blond women with bows and arrows on your doorstep—” “Miss Vila.” It was our history teacher, eyebrows raised knowingly. I froze, groaning. “Ms. Pritchard.” At least detention would give me muchneeded time to study. The wind snapped branches together over her head. “I’ll hold the quiz for you while you get an icepack from the nurse.” She winked. “Well done, by the way.” Ms. Pritchard was new but, for

obvious reasons, she was becoming my favorite teacher. The ice helped my bruises, but it didn’t help me pass her history quiz. “Damn it, Sonnet.” I slapped at her hand, but it was too late. She’d already effectively ruined the spell. “Now they’re just cupcakes.” “Which means now I can eat them.” She grinned, unrepentant. Her hair was caught up in the middle to look like a cross between a Mohawk and a ponytail. She was already licking frosting off her thumb. They say love fuels our magic,

but I think sugar is far more likely. I pulled out another bowl and started measuring ingredients. I stirred clockwise. I added nine drops of vanilla and juice from a lemon pierced with pins. Magic was in the details and Sonnet had just ruined an hour of preparation to get her sugar fix. And I had an essay on Romeo and Juliet to research. It was worth more than half our grade. Pierce leaned against the kitchen counter, paperback novel forgotten by his elbow. He loved watching me do

magic, even now when it was directed against his own brother. His dark eyes followed my every movement as I stirred vinegar into the bowl, to sour Jackson’s feelings for Rosalita. Pierce made a face. “I know Jackson’s a bit of a meathead, but won’t he taste that?” “Please.” Sonnet rolled her eyes. She was nicer to Pierce than any other guy, mostly because he never flirted with her. “Even if he did, he’ll eat the batch if he thinks Rosalita made them.” “They’d taste a lot worse if she made them,” I put in. “Anyway, lots of

cupcakes have vinegar in them. You can’t tell.” I added lavender buds from my back garden. The milk was from the fridge, but the water had been gathered during a thunderstorm on the night of a full moon. I’d added an iron nail to a vial of the water for this very purpose. Luckily, I hadn’t used all of my supplies for the first batch of batter. “And that’s it?” Pierce asked. He always asked that. “It seems too simple.” “Magic is simple.” I shrugged. “It’s people who are complicated.”

“Very deep,” Sonnet said. “But if I used that same recipe, I’d end up with regular cupcakes,” Pierce insisted. “Magic needs a spark,” I explained. “I’m the spark.” “And I’m licking the bowl.” Sonnet clutched it to her chest like Pierce was going to take it. He snorted. “As if I’d dare. You’d break my fingers.” I carefully washed out the bowl with the remains of Jackson’s cupcake batter. There was a faint giggle from outside.

Sonnet sighed in response, disgusted. I grinned at Pierce. “Don’t look now but your fan club is here.” Three of my younger cousins had their noses pressed to the glass. They shrieked when Pierce looked in their direction. He’d grown into his face since grade school and he was seriously goodlooking now. His jawline was kind of sexy and his smile made him approachable. But mostly my little cousins had been crushing hard since this summer when he’d taken off his shirt to help me in the garden. He was lean

and strong, and even I’d snuck a second look. Sonnet marched outside with her batter-smeared bowl, waving the wooden spoon as she chased them into the woods, shouting, “Have a little dignity!” I set the timer, then we sat on the lumpy couch while both batches of cupcakes baked. Dad and I lived in one of the small cabins scattered around the main house. Most of the cousins or mothers who weren’t any good at looking after themselves lived together

at Cygnet House. Magic is great and all, but it won’t cook you breakfast or do your laundry. And it really doesn’t care if you’ve done your homework or not. The few families who were relatively stable had their own cabins, like ours. It was tiny and smelled of cedar all year round. There was a central room with the kitchen and wood stove and two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom. Dad used his bedroom as an art studio and built himself a sleeping loft in the corner opposite the wood stove. He mostly painted swans and enormous oil

portraits of my mother. I might not remember her very well, but she still looked at us from every corner of the cabin. There was a basket of swan feathers I collected in my room; one of them might even be hers. Her paintings were everywhere, too (my parents met in art class). She mostly did abstracts but there were a few family portraits, mostly leaning toward the creepy. “I bombed the test,” I told Pierce, leaning back against an embroidered cushion. “It was barely a quiz,” he replied, his

dark hair flopping onto his forehead. “And it was the first one. Doesn’t count.” “Easy for you, you remember everything you’ve ever read.” Even now his backpack was so full of books the town library probably had to shut its doors due to temporary book shortage. “We should study.” I didn’t move. “Of course.” He leaned his head back. He smelled nice, like coffee and paper. I’d read somewhere that old paper has a vanilla scent. Like Pierce. It made me want to snuggle in like a cat. We used to

nap together as little kids, all elbows and cookie crumbs. Now his arm was warm but decidedly unyielding under my cheek. “You really did get all muscly,” I murmured sleepily. Last night caught up to me all at once and I was asleep before he could reply. Pierce must have dozed off, too, because when the oven timer woke me up, he was snoring and Dad was standing over us, looking unimpressed. His eyes were sharp behind his glasses. Tattoos meandered out from

under both sleeves: swans, swirls, stars. “I think it’s time you went home, Pierce,” he said loudly. “Yes, sir.” Pierce shot to his feet even though his eyes were only half open and he probably hadn’t actually heard what my dad said. We used to clamber up the ladder and use Dad’s loft for sleepovers and he never cared. Plus, right now we were in plain sight in the middle of the afternoon. And how much trouble could we actually get in, fully clothed and totally asleep? And it was Pierce, muscly arms notwithstanding. “I have to

get to work,” he mumbled. “Dad, it’s not even like that.” Which he totally knew. I didn’t add that if it had been Edward, he might have had a reason to look all pinchy. He wasn’t convinced anyway. “Mm-hmm.” When Aunt Agrippina called to ask me to pick her up at the hospital where she worked as a nurse, Dad let me take his car. Sonnet was out in the woods with Soliloquy, and Story was meditating. She went all out on moon nights, chanting and ohming until someone

knocked on her bedroom wall. Some of us took being a magical creature more seriously than others. It was just another part of me, like having brown eyes and a hatred of kale. And an aunt with a flat tire. She was waiting in the parking lot, her blond hair knotted into a messy bun. She wore scrubs with cartoon hearts, since she mostly worked with children. She’d lost a daughter to an illness even swan magic couldn’t cure. She wouldn’t talk about it. Right now she was standing under a streetlamp, talking to the tow

truck driver. She waved a hand at me and I pulled around the corner to wait for her. I got out of the car, leaning on the hood to count the stars. I could only find the big dipper with all the light pollution. I never understood how people could live in towns, all packed together under a gray sky. There was more Vila in me than I thought. I was imagining what it would feel like to finally fly in that same sky, soaring over rooftops and treetops and into the stars, when I heard the scrape of

a shoe on the pavement. “Aunt Ag, what does it feel like to—” “Little swan girl all alone.” I froze. The man was rangy and red-haired and very, very drunk. I could smell the beer on him from several feet away. Renard. Not just any Renard, but the only one so vicious and uncontrollable he’d been kicked out of his own family as part of the new treaty. He’d only been fourteen at the time, but he’d killed three swan girls. I swallowed, reaching for an

arrow from my bag, but it was in the backseat. “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I kept the smile on my face, making it quizzical and polite. He was drunk enough he might just wander off. His eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Or not. “I know a damn Vila girl when I see one.” I tensed as he came closer, suddenly a lot less wobbly on his feet. Anger must

have burned off some of the effects of the alcohol. There was a knife sticking out of his boot. I thought of dead swan girls. I eased around the side of the car, trying to put it between us, but he was faster than he looked. He grabbed my arm and I instinctively smashed the heel of my hand into his nose. He yelped, blood dripping onto his lip, but he didn’t let go. If anything his grip tightened when his head snapped back. I’d have bruises. “I’m going to get myself a new pair of wings.” His breath made me recoil.

“You’re going to get yourself a hole in the kidney,” Aunt Agrippina corrected him. She had a miniature crossbow aimed at him. He sneered. “You can’t guarantee you’ll hit me and not her.” “Want to bet?” The crossbow bolt barely made a sound as it sliced through the air. I heard it land in his hip and the hiss of pain. He let go of me and staggered back, clutching at the wound. “You shot me, you bitch!” Aunt Agrippina looked more tired than

anything. “There’s the hospital.” She gestured behind her. “Go on.” He glared at me, muttering horrible threats. Aunt Agrippina sighed. “I will shoot you on the tongue next.” He lurched away toward the emergency room entrance. I gaped at her. “You’re kinda scary awesome tonight.” “I’m just not in the mood, sweetie.” She slid into the passenger seat. “A double shift, a slashed tire, and now this.” Aunt Agrippina rubbed her face wearily. “I need a bubble bath after the moon dances.”

“You could skip the dancing and go straight to the bubble bath,” I suggested, because the bags under her eyes were practically purple. “Can’t,” she said through a yawn. “I just used up too much power on my shift. That’s why he got the crossbow bolt and not a magic arrow in the ass.” We weren’t supposed to use our healing magic in public, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. She said it was her duty both as a nurse and as a Vila. “He was such a skinny little thing, Ana. His name is Simon. I couldn’t do much more

than take some of the pain away, but I had to try. And it was at three in the morning with no one around, before you tell your aunt Aisha and get me grounded.” I wrinkled my nose. “I won’t tell.” She patted my leg. “I know.” “You might shoot me.” “Exactly.” Just another night as a swan girl.

PIERCE Watching Ana flirt with Edward was physically painful.

On so many levels. “How is she so bad at that?” I muttered to Mei Lin who was waiting for her cappuccino. Or her “Capuletccino” as they were called here. I worked at The Shakespeare Café most afternoons and weekends. It was so heavily fake-Tudor and Shakespearean, it would have given the real Shakespeare hives. Still, even Shakespearean actors and professors who knew better loved it. But it gave me extra cash to help with the bills, and at least the owner didn’t make us wear

those ruffly shirts anymore. Not since we had all threatened to quit together. Mei Lin rested her chin in her hands, looking mournful. It was quite a feat considering she had the most cheerful hair of any of the cousins. She usually wore flowers, but she’d once sewn an actual Princess Leia figurine onto her hairband. Today she was so dusted with glitter that her head looked like a disco ball. We watched Ana smile uncomfortably. Edward smiled back, but he looked slightly confused, as if he was waiting

for her to say something. She didn’t. I’d have to go rescue her in a minute. “Isn’t flirting in the Vila DNA?” Mei Lin wrinkled her nose. “Maybe it skipped a generation. I’ll never get my…” She paused. Instead of saying the word “wings” out loud, she lifted her elbows out and flapped them like a chicken. “Why not?” I slid her cup toward her and got started on another latte for Ana, extra cinnamon syrup. She’d need it after Edward finally looked away and she figured out how to blink and move her

feet again. “There are four lesbians in our entire school that I know of, including me.” Mei Lin swallowed half the foam on her latte in one gulp. “I’m related to one, the other is way young, and the third one is thoroughly unpleasant. I’d rather kiss a goat.” “But we get like tens of thousands of tourists every summer,” I said consolingly, giving her one of the broken biscotti we kept in a jar under the counter. “So you never know.” She perked up slightly. “That’s true.” I

wasn’t sure if it was my pep talk or the caffeine. Liv came up to the counter, smiling at me. She glanced at Mei Lin. “Is your cousin deranged or something? She’s scaring Edward.” I shook my head. “Easy, Liv.” I’d known her as long as I’d known Ana and they’d hated each other for approximately 99 percent of that time. They’d been banned from being in the same part of the school yard or anywhere near each other in class since kindergarten.

Mei Lin made the sound a swan makes when you get too close. Liv’s lips lifted off her teeth. They looked sharper than usual. “Don’t make me bounce you both out of here,” I said mildly. I’d learned that acting calm and unruffled tended to defuse Vila/Renard tempers. At least the Vila and Renards I knew. I was assured things had been very different years ago. I used a stir stick to make leaf shapes on the foam of Ana’s latte because it always made her smile. I glanced over to see if I needed to save her from

herself yet. She looked green. I was edging around the counter when she turned abruptly and practically ran to the stool next to Mei Lin. She lowered her head, banging her forehead lightly and repeatedly on the counter. Liv snorted. “As if that will help.” “Go away, Liv. I’ve already dealt with your drunken asshat of an uncle.” Ana’s voice was muffled. Liv paled. Ana didn’t notice, keeping her head buried in her arms. I wasn’t too thrilled at the mention of Henry, either, not after what Ana had told me he’d tried to pull

outside the hospital. “Edward wants a double shot latte.” “You don’t work here,” I reminded her. And we didn’t serve at the tables regardless. “He doesn’t know that.” She made a weird sound, a cross between a stifled scream and a laugh. She peered up at me through her hair. “I had to get out of there before he asked if I was having some kind of fit. I could barely talk. One more second and I might have actually drooled.” I shook my head. “He’s not even that

cute.” Both Ana and Mei Lin stared at me. Even Liv looked at me disbelievingly. I shrugged. “What? I know cute.” “He’s hot,” Mei Lin said, almost apologetically. “And I don’t even like guys.” “Why couldn’t I just like you?” Ana asked me. We’d been asking each other that since I discovered the part about true love and the gift of the swan wings. The cousins only got their feather cloak when they fell in love. And sisterly love or friend-love didn’t count, which I

thought was totally unfair. We’d even kissed once, but we were twelve and had no idea what we were doing. Not a swan feather in sight, so true love was out of the picture. At least on her side. “It would be so much easier,” she continued. “You’re awesome. And you draw pictures in my latte.” She lifted her cup like it was both fine art and proof of my awesomeness. “Plus, I’m cuter than Edward,” I added. “Well, more deluded anyway.” “You don’t even know him,” I

reminded her. “You have like, what, one class together?” “And you only ever croak at him,” Mei Lin added helpfully. “It’s not love.” Ana shot her a baleful glare full of sharp and poisonous things. “Blasphemer.” “It’s not.” She shrugged. “It’s lust.” I pretended, very, very intensely, that I’d gone deaf. I heated more milk and poured it into the double espresso. I didn’t make any designs in the foam. “Love takes time,” Ana pointed out. “Maybe this is just the first step.”

“And what’s the next step?” I asked, feeling the same dread in the pit of my stomach that I felt whenever she got that look on her face. “He’s heading out to a field party right now,” Ana said. We both stared at her. She hated field parties. “Call an exorcist,” I muttered. “She’s possessed.” The cupcakes weren’t working. Even distracted by Edward, I could see that. Jackson sat by the window and stared at Rosalita who was at a little

table crammed with her friends. She ignored him, but tomorrow she might kiss him. You never knew with her, which kept a certain kind of boy intrigued and infatuated. Fat lot of good it did her. She didn’t have her feather cloak yet, either. And she’d be so mad if she found out I was using magic to sever Jackson’s ties to her. Not because she liked him, but because she liked to practice her magic on all guys, all of the time. She wanted them to like her, even if she wasn’t interested in them. Not that my magic was any good

though, apparently. Pierce said Jackson had eaten three of the cupcakes on the spot when Pierce gave him the box with the excuse that Rosalita was grounded and couldn’t bring them herself. But he was still here, watching her. And it was starting to be creepy. Pierce clearly agreed. He kicked Jackson’s chair. “Go away.” “Give me a ride to Jamie’s party.” “I don’t give stalky creepers lifts.” Jackson finally swung his eyes away. “I’ll go wait in the truck.” “You do that.” He glared at his

brother’s new expensive running shoes. “Where’d you get those?” Jackson just shrugged, which meant he was stealing again. Pierce sighed, annoyed. “Get a job, delinquent.” “Just give me a lift, Dad.” Which was how Pierce, Mei Lin and I found him a half an hour later listening to loud emo music. As usual, Pierce made him get out of the front seat so I could have it. Pierce always drove me home when he could; it meant I didn’t have to be trapped in the Vila house van. It stank of perfume and there were arrows

jammed between the seats and under the mats, and no matter where you sat one of them poked you in the butt before you got home. Plus, my cousins seemed to have two moods when they were in a group: grumpy or giggly. I had one: no thank you. Pierce turned off the music. Jackson leaned forward, a curious combination of eager-puppy and intense. “Ana, does Rosalita have a boyfriend?” “Several,” I replied flatly. “So, she might want one more?” he pressed.

“I doubt it.” “But you don’t know? I mean, she made me cupcakes. That has to mean something. Doesn’t that mean something in girl-speak?” “How the hell should I know?” I returned. Ask Edward—I clearly knew nothing about girl-speak. “Did you eat the cupcakes?” I demanded. “Of course.” I slid him an assessing glance out of the corner of my eye. “Are you sure?” “I ate them all. But she still won’t look at me for some reason. Is she mad

at me? What did I do wrong? Would you talk to her?” He grabbed my elbow. If Sonnet were here she’d have already stabbed him with an arrow. “Please?” “Dude.” Pierce sighed. “Let it go, already. It’s embarrassing.” “You don’t get it,” he sulked, slouching back. Mei Lin edged away, as if melodrama was contagious. “I really don’t,” Pierce agreed as he pulled his truck in beside the others parked in the tall grass. Headlights glittered like fireflies. “Get out and try not to make an ass out of yourself.” He

gave me the side eye. “That goes for you, too.” The party was exactly like every other party we’d ever been to in the back field of someone’s farm. There were bonfires, the faint smell of horse manure, and a million stars overhead. That was the best part. But I had those same stars at home. What this field had that Cygnet House didn’t was simple: Edward. I’d had a crush on him for over a year now. It wasn’t exactly true love, as the lack of swans following me around or wings of my own attested to, but maybe

it was close. And at some point, I was going to have to have an actual conversation with him to find out. He was currently sitting by one of the fires. His dark hair looked like raven wings, or the kind of shadows that hid secrets. “If you are singing some kind of old ballad in your head, I give up,” Pierce said. “You’re as bad as Jackson.” “Take that back.” I pinched him really hard. “I am trying to think of what to say.” If only it was as easy as talking to Pierce. I always knew what he was thinking. He had the most expressive

eyebrows. “Try saying ‘hi.’” I nudged him. “After that, Romeo.” “Ana, you’re a Vila. You are genetically wired to make guys crazy.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t make you crazy.” “You really do, actually,” he said fondly. “Now, go over there because I am not spending another year listening to you sigh over him.” “I don’t sigh!” “You sound like a hyperventilating goose when he’s around.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you would know what that sounds like.” I straightened my shoulders. There was magic inside me. And if it usually translated into healing powers, or the ability to sing the wind from the sky, it didn’t mean it couldn’t help me do this, too. Even if I was wearing cargo pants and a hoody with holes where I could poke my thumbs through the cuff. “Give me that.” I plucked a beer bottle from someone’s hand as they walked by me. Pierce immediately commandeered it.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You don’t even like beer.” “Liquid courage,” I insisted. “Gimme.” “No.” He passed the bottle off to someone else. “You’ll get drunk and punch a Renard. Or throw up on Edward’s shoes and I’ll never hear the end of it.” He wasn’t wrong. “Damn it.” He slung a companionable arm around my shoulder. “If you’re lucky, you can hear Jackson’s rendition of ‘Love Bites.’ He was working on an Air Supply song

in the shower this morning.” “Okay, okay, I’m going. No need to threaten me.” I headed toward Edward out of self-defense. As usual, a good portion of my family was scattered around. Mei Lin was hanging out with her friends. Ansuya was making out with a girl whose boyfriend looked utterly bewildered. Sonnet was at home refusing to be social, no matter how many times Aunt Agrippina threatened her, or how many times Aunt Felicity fluttered at her that she’d end up alone and doomed and

chained to the earth. She was a little morose, Aunt Felicity. But she was right, too, as we had daily proof. Rosalita was flirting so forcefully I was surprised there weren’t bodies littered around her feet. Jackson appeared woeful but determined. I should have doubled the cupcake recipe. I squeezed myself into the tiny space at the end of the bench next to Edward. I smiled at him, but I wasn’t even sure he was looking in my direction. The fire popped and snapped, making better conversation than I could. I really was

stupendously awful at this. As I was trying to figure out how to get his attention, a girl I didn’t recognize plopped herself on his knee, giggling at him. His elbow nudged me when he shifted to hold her up. His hand slid down to her lower back. I nearly fell into the fire in my determination to be anywhere but there. “That could have been me,” I said to Pierce when he came up beside me. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” “Yeah, okay,” I agreed, linking my arm

through his. “You’re still my favorite anyway.” “Well, that was a spectacular failure, as always,” I said as we wandered through the rest of the party. The smell of peppermint schnapps stung the air. “You’re not going to get all mopey about it, are you?” Pierce asked. “Please, who are you talking to? I’ve had experience at this, remember?” Although I couldn’t help obsessing, just a little, on how I was never going to get my feather cloak. I’d end up eating fish heads in the woods with Morag.

There was an itch between my shoulder blades, a physical ache for wings. And the guy I liked currently nuzzling some girl’s neck. Now that Edward was off kissing some other girl, there was nothing to distract me from the drunken hooting of three guys trying to shotgun beer from the keg to impress girls who looked more concerned with having that same beer spat all over them. A girl was doing cartwheels for some inexplicable reason. She must be from town because doing cartwheels in a field at night was

just asking to land in cow shit. Most of the others were lying on the roofs of their cars, watching the stars. The moon was fat and yellow, reflected in a small pond. I followed it, out of ingrained habit. Pierce found a white feather stuck in the roots of a tree. He passed it to me for my collection. His knuckle oozed blood. He followed my glance. “Thorn tree,” he said, nodding to the edge of the pond. There were red splotches on his sleeve. “Let me fix it.”

“It’s no big deal.” “It’ll get infected and your knuckles will fall off and you’ll die,” I pointed out, borrowing a threat from Aunt Felicity. According to her we were always in danger of having various body parts just fall right off. “Hold still and let me do this.” I was always prepared for small healing. Usually my backpack was full of pouches of herbs. If it was ever searched it would look really bad. Currently, my cargo pants pockets were stocked with mint, marigold petals, salt,

and plantain leaves. Pierce looked slightly nervous. “You know, I think I have antibacterial cream in the truck.” “Don’t be a baby. You love magic.” “Yeah, when it’s aimed at my idiot little brother, and not me.” “Better hope I’m better at this than the cupcakes of doom, then.” I cradled his hand, his skin warm against mine. I sang softly because you never knew who might be listening. And family tradition didn’t exactly run to Top 40. “John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble

enterprise; For if you do but taste his blood, ’Twill make your courage rise.” “Cannibalism?” Pierce asked dubiously. “How exactly is that healing?” “I can sing the one about the guy who’s hanged by his own entrails.” “I’m good, thanks.” A tiny electrical shock sparked between us. I jumped, fingertips tingling. There was a small gasp, like a sob. “There’s no need to cry.” I rolled my eyes. “It can’t hurt that much.” His eyebrows rose. “That wasn’t me,

Ana.” It had sounded like weeping, but it might have been the wind. Footsteps, a small shriek. Or not. Pierce angled his body in front of mine even though I was the one with the paranoid aunt who had trained in the army. I could protect him better than he could protect me. Though I didn’t think either of us needed to be saved from the girl stumbling out of the trees. She clutched her head and I expected to see blood drip between her fingers, but it

was only her hair. The blond strands were ragged and hacked. Her eyes were wild. “Jamie?” Pierce asked gently, but his expression was stone and ice. “What happened to you?” I reached for my cell phone. It smelled like the mint I kept in that pocket. “Should I call 911?” Jamie shook her head, trying to speak through her tears. “No, I’m okay.” “You don’t look okay.” Her friends rushed toward her. One of them screamed. Another snapped at her

to get a grip. There was a burst of chaos, punctuated with lots of hugging and swearing and threats that would have impressed even Aisha. “Who did this?” someone asked Jamie. “I don’t know.” She hiccupped, trying to force back a sob. “I was in the woods waiting for… Well, I was in the woods. Someone grabbed my ponytail.” Fear and fury chased each other across her face. “And then they just chopped it off.” When three guys took off into the trees, Pierce joined them. He was a

better tracker than anyone else here. His grandmother had forced her three grandsons to learn to hunt even though Pierce was more interested in books. He came back shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said as everyone scattered back to the bonfires. “A few footsteps but it’s pretty dark in there.” I felt something hard and cold in my stomach. I knew exactly who stole hair. The Renards. My aunts all had stories of girls like us having their cloaks stolen, their hair stolen, everything stolen. I thought of Henry Renard and his dead

eyes before Aunt Agrippina shot him in the ass with a crossbow. But Jamie wasn’t Vila; she was just a girl who happened to have blond hair. What game were the Renards playing now? I searched for my cousins again, and they were still all here, looking as grim as I felt. We didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of thinking they’d scared us, but it was time to go home. The party was no longer remotely fun. We had no idea we were being watched from across the pond.

Not until much, much later.

Chapter Three ANA On the third and last night of the full moon, we danced. But it wasn’t enough.

ANA

Cygnet House was the main building on the farm. Part stone and part Victorian gables, it was built over two hundred years ago by a Vila grandmother. A swan curved over the front door, creating a small alcove with its huge wings. Every feather was painstakingly carved. The cheerful red door concealed a surprising number of rooms and a huge kitchen with its own espresso maker. I really, really wanted that espresso maker. I also wanted two more hours of sleep, but I dutifully made my way

behind the main house. Training started before dawn because I’d insisted on keeping after-school hours for homework. To say my cousins were unimpressed with me was a mild understatement. Rosalita glared at me, still annoyed. I glared back, equally annoyed. I made sure to keep Sonnet and Mei Lin between us. Aunt Aisha didn’t like it when we beat each other up without her say so. Swan girls learned archery, hand-tohand combat, and parkour. The usual girl stuff. When we got our cloaks, we

learned other things, but no one would tell me what those were. For now, with morning dew soaking into our shoes, we ran laps around the field. Aisha’s black gaze was more than enough to propel us forward. If you lagged, or you dared look bored, you’d have to do it all over again. I’d once had to run the field seven times in a row because I was thinking about Edward. “Jamie’s ex-boyfriend copped to chopping off her hair,” Story told me between gasps for air. No one could gather gossip like she could. “He was

jealous of the new guy she’s dating.” Relief prickled through me. “So just a stupid prank then.” We’d been raised on warnings about people wanting to steal our magic. Our hair could be used in spells, even spells against us. Maybe only a few people knew magic existed, but it only took one asshat with power to cause a lot of problems. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could be deadly. None of us wanted that on our conscience. Still, after all of this running and memorizing tactics and strategy, I

wondered if anyone had bothered exerting that much effort on maintaining some kind of peace. There was a treaty of course, but it was just words on paper. We ran in jagged confusing lines to practice being a harder target to hit. Renards were supernaturally good at tracking, both as foxes and as humans. We had to run as if we were flying, leaving no part of ourselves behind. When we were all coughing and redfaced, Aunt Aisha let us stop. We lined up with our bows, shooting arrows into

lumps of moldy hay. The magic arrows wrapped in our hair disintegrated on contact. Sounds like a great weapon, and maybe two hundred years ago when Cygnet House was brand new, it was. But try walking around town with a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to your back without getting arrested. I’d asked about throwing knives, but I always got the same answer: arrows are tradition. Tradition, tradition, tradition. Everything is tradition with us. Well, I was starting my own traditions and they included graduating high

school. If I ever got enough time to study. Last I checked, dodging fists wasn’t exactly on the curriculum. “Focus,” Aunt Aisha snapped behind me. When I was sick she was the first to bring me soup and blankets, and she was the one who went to my parent-teacher meetings when the single teachers wouldn’t stop hitting on my dad. Even my math teacher, and I was pretty sure he was married. But on the training field, she was as vicious as a, well, as a swan. I focused harder because I wanted her

to be proud of me. I was a decent shot, but not as good as Sonnet. And Mei Lin could outrun a horse. Rosalita could sing a breeze delicate enough to lift a single petal off a rose. I wasn’t particularly skilled. Aunt Aisha studied my last arrow. “Not bad. You just need to practice more. You study too much.” I felt sure Ms. Pritchard would not agree. The sun was rising, glittering in the windows of Cygnet House and on the ponds scattered around us like dropped coins. Another half an hour, I calculated, and I could go to school. If I was really

lucky, Pierce would give me a lift. He snuck us lattes from work when there was time. I was going to need about eight of them. “Hand to hand,” Aunt Aisha called. “Who’s up? Ana?” I tried not to groan. She might make me run more laps. “I’ll go.” Rosalita stepped in front of me with a smirk. She was clearly still pissed off about me stopping the boys from fighting over her. Well, fine. I wasn’t too thrilled with her either. “Begin,” Aunt Aisha said, frowning

slightly, as if she could smell the acridness between us. We inclined our heads in a short but formal bow of acknowledgment. Tradition again. Formal manners went out the window when Rosalita tried to scratch my eyes out. I blocked her, but she left angry welts in my forearm. “Don’t be such a cliché,” I told her. “You’re not going to stand between me and my wings,” she said. I paused, surprised. She hooked her foot behind my leg. I landed hard, but I

flipped back up before she could press her advantage. “Is that what this is about? You don’t love Jackson, idiot.” “He loves me.” “So what? That’s not how it works.” I shoved back. “The more people love me, the more the right one will take notice. I won’t have you getting in the way and ruining everything!” Our songs slammed against each other until the air rippled. Wind tore through the grass. Tree branches creaked warningly. Aunt Aisha was shouting

something at us, but I couldn’t hear her. I was trying not to let Rosalita’s song stab me in the ears. She was better at this part. Her mother had trained as an opera singer for God’s sake. My dad taught me how to camp and chop wood and grow my own food—all the things that didn’t require magic. He didn’t want me becoming complacent. Which was great, except I didn’t see how building a campfire out of dryer lint was going to help me with Rosalita’s temper tantrum. My voice cracked, but I sang louder, louder. My hair whipped around my

face, stinging my eyes. Our songs collided again, like comets. The air singed, everything went white, and I flew backward. When I managed to sit up, I could only hear a muffled throbbing. Everything hurt. When I touched my ears, my fingers came away bloody. Mei Lin and Sonnet gaped at us. When Rosalita and I both tried to stand up on wobbly legs, Aunt Aisha sang a burst of wind to knock us back down. She stared at us with the sharp disdain of an offended queen. I winced inwardly.

“A waste of magic,” she spat. I could mostly hear again, but my head ached. “You’ll run yourself dry on pettiness and pride. And then what will you be when the Renards find you? Useless, that’s what. “Sisters don’t fight sisters,” she added fiercely. “She’s not my sister,” Rosalita snapped, stalking away. “And you’re not my damned mother.” Aunt Aisha watched me push to my feet. Half the forest appeared to be trapped in my hair. “Anastasia Vila, do

not tell me you’re fighting over a boy.” “Not like that,” I assured her. “Good. I don’t—” She was interrupted by a flurry of sound from inside the house that sounded a lot like wailing. We turned to see Aunt Sarafina running out of the sunroom, half a dozen swan girls trailing behind her. She was naked and covered in mud and dead leaves. They looked like blood from a distance. The sweat on the back of my neck chilled instantly. She saw Aunt Aisha and started to sob, harsh panicked gasps muffling her

words. Aisha touched her shoulder. “What’s happened?” But we all knew what had happened. One look at her was enough to tell us. “They’ve stolen my cloak.” She gagged on the words. She already looked haunted. This is what would happen to me if I never got my feather cloak. “Where? Where were you?” She named one of the ponds on the west side of the forest, close to the Renard house. Aunt Sarafina trembled so violently Aunt Agrippina had to hold her

up. Aunt Felicity hovered on the threshold, wearing a white dress as usual. “I’ve made you some tea,” she offered tremulously. Aunt Aisha whistled for Morag who burst out of the trees already wearing her swan. She grabbed a bow from the training pile, her expression so cold I shivered. “I told you,” Aunt Aisha said. “Never let your guard down.” Things only got worse at school. I’d planned to hide out in the library and get started on my paper, but Mei Lin

burst in and whispered furiously in my ear. “Come on.” “I’m studying. Romeo and Juliet. Family feuds—’cause you know I’ve never heard of those before.” “I’m serious.” “So am I!” I replied, but she was already hauling me out of my chair. I grabbed at my knapsack as the librarian shook her head. “Don’t piss off Ms. Angevine,” I hissed at Mei Lin. “This is the only place I can study without a fox fight.” And Pierce generally lived in the

library; he’d be pissed off too if I was banned. I grumbled as I raced down the stairs and out into the back field beside the parking lot. I didn’t immediately see anything worth giving up my study time. “If this is about Rosalita again I’m going to throat-punch her. She already owes me for that history quiz.” “It’s not Rosalita.” Mei Lin led me to the small cluster of maple trees. I could hear the trouble before I ducked under the branches. Sonnet had found her way to school. Never mind that she’d been

expelled last year. We had so much more to be worried about. For one she had an arrow aimed at Liv’s chest. They tensed when we stumbled into the vicious tableau. An older Renard pointed the business end of a seriously long hunting knife at my cousin Soliloquy. It was more like a sword. There was another fox boy, Liv’s older brother Jude. Aunt Ellie, Mei Lin’s mother, was up in the tree, with her own arrow nocked. “Oh my God,” I snapped. “I am trying to graduate high school here. What the

actual hell?” “Go back to class,” Aunt Ellie ordered. “Mom,” Mei Lin said in that tone reserved for acute parental embarrassment. “Why don’t you all go away instead?” I shot back, incensed. “We agreed school was off-limits for the adults.” “That was before,” Sonnet said. “Before what?” I edged closer, wondering if I could block her target. She shifted, glaring. “Don’t.” “This is ridiculous. Again. Still.” I

glanced at Liv, hoping she would at least back me up. She was wearing a white swan feather in a braid in her hair. “You’re making it really hard to save your life.” “Who asked you to?” “You’re welcome.” “She’s not in danger,” her brother said smoothly. I felt the poke of a dagger entirely too close to my kidney. “But you might be.” Mei Lin sucked in a breath, dropping immediately into a fighting stance. Aunt Ellie’s arrow sliced by Jude’s arm. The

dagger poked deeper, drawing blood. I held up my hands. “Let’s just calm down.” I may as well have asked the sun not to shine. Sonnet began to sing. The hunting knife aimed at Soliloquy touched her throat. Sonnet went silent. “What is this about?” I asked, trying again for distraction, defusion, anything. I refused to die with a failed history test on my record. “It’s about Sarafina’s stolen cloak,” Aunt Ellie spat. “It’s about this!” Liv answered at the same time, shoving a severed bloody fox

tail at us. I recoiled. “We didn’t do that,” Sonnet insisted. And she’d have owned it proudly if she thought we had. That didn’t actually make me feel any better. She was barely two years older than me but she’d already been fully indoctrinated into the aunts’ madness. “And we didn’t steal a cloak,” Jude returned. Taking advantage of the tiny second when his eyes flicked toward her, I backed out of reach of his dagger. “Why don’t we all just back off?” I suggested.

It was no surprise at all when they decided to full on battle in the school yard instead. Aunt Ellie sang a song I’d never heard before and it had static electricity shivering in the air. Leaves tore off the branches. Her arrow caught Liv’s uncle in the shoulder. Two Renards shot by two of my aunts in such a short time. It wasn’t exactly a good habit to start. The arrow didn’t disintegrate with magic, but it did make him drop his sword. Sometimes regular arrows were better. Soliloquy shrieked like a

banshee. Liv dodged Sonnet’s arrow, which definitely would have made her forget everything. She was in too-close quarters, though, and it thudded harmlessly into a tree trunk. Bark splintered. Liv punched me, just because I was there. I punched her back because I was there and I was pissed about it. I kicked at her knee to buy myself time to stagger back out of the melee. I was so going to get suspended for this. I looked around wildly, trying to think of a way to stop this before it was too

late. We couldn’t count on the adults to have clear heads, they were murkier than anyone’s. And I still had homework to do. I wondered briefly if Romeo and Juliet had any useful advice on dealing with insane families, but drinking poison didn’t seem particularly helpful. Instead I remembered the time the gym teacher had to dump a cooler of melted ice over two girls fighting in class. Okay, over Liv and me fighting in class. But there was no water nearby, no hose or handy cooler. I wasn’t sure it would

have been enough anyway. They wanted the fight; it made everything feel controllable for some reason. But they needed secrecy usually, especially with Aunt Ellie singing and Liv’s brother growing fox ears even as I stood there staring. So I’d take the only thing away that I could: secrecy. I rushed out onto the path, gathering handfuls of pebbles and lobbing them at the cars parked in the student lot. I only managed to set off two alarms, but it was better than nothing. The horns blared in a

constant annoying tempo. I hoped the cafeteria windows were open, especially when I texted Pierce to stop eating his lunch and shout that the student parking lot was being vandalized. I kept a wary eye on my family. “Three, two…one.” The cafeteria doors flew open and a handful of students rushed down the steps, car keys clutched in angry frantic hands. Aunt Ellie was the first to notice them from her vantage point. “Fall back!” “Civilians,” Jude added.

Aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered. I grabbed for my backpack, smirking. “Teach you to interrupt my studying.”

ANA I could not catch a break today. I’d already been neck-deep in a blood feud and now Jackson was determined to interrupt my try-not-to-smile-like-anidiot-at-Edward time. I could manage weird-blank-face and overexcitedtoddler-on-a-sugar-high grin. Neither of which were possible right now because Jackson was chasing Rosalita across the

parking lot. Edward was leaning under the hood of his car, looking hot. Confused, but hot. Jamie was there, too, waiting for her ride and sporting a new angled bob haircut. “Rosalita, wait!” Jackson called. She didn’t look back, but she did flip her hair over one shoulder. I hurried over. “Cut it out.” “What?” She blinked innocently. Well, as innocently as she could while wearing a dress so short I was pretty sure it was actually a blouse. The long sleeves hid her training bruises. Mine

were tucked under my T-shirt, all up my left side. “You proved your point this morning,” I told her. “Let it go. We already had a fight with the Renards today and—” Jackson caught up to us, his eyes fiery and dazed and too bright. He looked high, but I knew it was the magic amplifying whatever idiot thoughts were already inside his head. “Rosalita.” He sighed her name. “Jackson, go away.” I sighed, too. “No.” He scowled at me. “What’s your problem?”

My problem was that I was trying to save him from himself and he wasn’t making it easy. Rosalita never made anything easy, so no surprise there. “You never called me back,” he said to her. “I wanted to say thank you for the cupcakes, but now you won’t even look at me. You wouldn’t talk to me at the party and I love you.” Rosalita looked bored. “That’s nice.” She patted his arm. “Bye now.” She glared at me as we hurried down the last steps. “What more do you want? And don’t think I don’t know this is your

doing. I never baked him cupcakes. As if.” “Well, one of us had to do something.” She rolled her eyes. “I have an arrow with his name on it. It’s not like I don’t know what to do, Ana.” “He’s not a Renard. And you can’t just make people crazy because you can’t be bothered to try anything else first!” “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes again. “Lighten up. Plus, you’re not actually slut-shaming me are you? Uncool.” “Give me a break. I don’t care who

you sleep with.” To say our family is not prudish was an understatement. “Sonnet sleeps with just as many guys as you do, the difference is you’re mean about it.” “Well, good for Saint Sonnet.” “There are lots of other options that don’t involve arrows,” I insisted. Which I was about to demonstrate. Because Jackson wasn’t giving up and I was out of patience. He grabbed Rosalita’s elbow and swung her around. Her ballet flats skidded on the thin gravel. “You have to give me a chance.” “Let. Go,” she snapped.

“No, you have to—” And that’s when I punched him. Before Rosalita could use an arrow, and before he did something so irrevocably gross that punching him wasn’t enough. His head snapped back and he didn’t make a sound, not even when blood trickled out of his nose. That scared me most of all. “Go home, Jackson.” I sang it, but only a little. He blinked, disoriented, and wandered away. The wind touched my hair. “You might try using all that interfering magic on yourself,” Rosalita

said silkily, smiling in Edward’s direction. My stomach dropped. “Don’t.” “Maybe you need a dose, too, to cure your self-righteousness. Since smacking your ass down didn’t seem to work.” “Jesus, Rosalita. I was trying to help.” “Then stay the hell out of my business,” she snapped. “That’s helpful.” I tried to grab her backpack, but she was faster. Her fingers drummed lightly on the hood of Edward’s car. “Edward.” She sang his name and made him straighten jerkily, like a

marionette with pulled strings. It’s not that our magic could control people, mostly it only called the wind and helped herbs with their healing; but it could draw attention. So much attention that the person thought they were in love, because for long moments they could see nothing but you. “Stop it,” I hissed at her. I could already feel myself turning bright red. Sonnet honked the horn of the van impatiently. “Ana can help you with that,” Rosalita said to Edward. “She’s great with

engines. Aren’t you, Ana?” I wanted to kill her. I was great with engines, but so was every Vila who’d ever had to ride in the stupid van. It broke down once a week. And Rosalita wouldn’t do something as simple as flirt with him. She was sure she could win him, if it came to it. She wanted to torture me instead. “I’m sure he has roadside assistance,” I muttered, hoping he would take the out. I still had blood on my clothes from Jude’s dagger. It was probably dumb for me to be worrying about that.

Rosalita touched his shoulder. Her voice lilted again, like a lullaby. “But Ana’s right here. And so very helpful.” She flounced away before I could punch her, too. Edward blinked at me, the sun making a halo around his dark hair. “Can you really fix it? That’d be great.” “Maybe.” I took a deep breath. “Sure.” I dropped my back pack and tied my hair up into a knot. I was wearing my overalls so at least bending over the engine wouldn’t be embarrassing. It was about the only thing about this that

wouldn’t be. “Why don’t you get in and turn it on.” “It won’t go.” “I need to hear how it won’t go.” “Oh. Okay.” He left the door open and craned his neck out as he turned the key. Nothing happened. “That’s bad, right?” “Could be worse. Okay, turn it off.” I ducked under the hood. The battery was dirty, with swirls of rainbow grime and lumps of corrosions. “So do I have to walk?” Edward asked, grinning. “No, this is an easy fix. Your battery

clamps are dirty. You’ll have to replace them, but a quick clean should get you around for now. I wouldn’t wait too long, though.” I undid the negative clamp first, remembering Aisha’s terse warnings of electrocution and exploding my own head. I wiped off the terminals before reattaching both cables. I stepped back and bumped into Edward. He was closer than I’d thought. I cleared my throat. “Give it a try.” He turned the key and the engine gave a satisfying roar. I wiped my hands on my overalls and slammed the hood

down. Edward slid out of the driver’s seat, still grinning. “Thanks, Anne.” “Ana,” I corrected him. “Oh. Sorry. But thank you. Seriously. My dad would have a fit if he knew I couldn’t fix it myself.” He looked around the empty parking lot. “Looks like I made you miss your ride. Let me take you home.” “No, that’s okay,” I said, even though it was way too far to walk home and Rosalita had the van keys. I’d have to wait for Pierce’s shift to be over. I couldn’t sit in a car with Edward for

twenty minutes with nothing to say. “I owe you,” Edward insisted. “And I promise I’m not a weirdo.” I half laughed. “I can’t promise the same.” He smiled. “I’ve been warned then. Get in.” He even opened the door for me. I swallowed a nervous giggle. There were empty pop cans on the floor and band stickers on the glove compartment. I was used to Pierce’s fiercely clean truck and books piled everywhere, including ones taped to the ceiling. I still didn’t know why he’d

done that. And I didn’t know why I was comparing them. Edward rolled the windows down and the car filled with sunlight and wind. There was a long moment where my brain was about as useful as his corroded battery. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I smiled but it felt wrong, like my lips belonged to someone else. A bird flew over us and I wondered if it was a swan. My head was full of old songs, my belly full of fire. “So, we have history together, right?”

he asked finally. “Yes.” I jumped on the subject, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I mangled that quiz. You?” “Not too bad.” There was another beat of silence. I tried not to stare at the way the sunlight gleamed on his forearms. His sleeves were rolled up and it was totally distracting. “Are you trying out for the play?” he asked. I remembered that he was part of the Drama Club. It was something to talk about. Something to stop me from telling

him he was beautiful. God, I was annoying. I had him drop me off a concession away from the farm. Not that I was particularly worried; even Pierce couldn’t find Cygnet House if I wasn’t with him. There was enough magic to keep it unnoticeable, not to mention acres of trees and fields, and a driveway that was barely two ruts in the ground. “Thanks.” His eyes met mine. “See you tomorrow?” I nodded, back to not being able to

speak when he looked at me. Especially like that. I could practically feel the feathers poking out of my spine. I waited until he was out of sight before cutting through the field. I glanced behind me once, just in case. No swan. I walked through the corn stalks towering above, lost in my own secret cocoon where all of this might have been real. It was the closest to a proper conversation we’d ever had; the closest to an actual moment. But I had no idea how much of Rosalita’s magic clung to him.

So it may have been the best moment, but it wasn’t real.

PIERCE Watching Edward flirt with Ana under the hood of his car was even worse than watching her try to flirt with him. It made me want to punch him right in the face, just as hard as she’d just punched my brother. Ana would say jealousy was stupid, and anyway it’s not like I had anything to be jealous of. He wasn’t interested in being her best friend. That just made me want to punch him

more. I went to my shift at the café, drank four espressos, and was sent home for being “surly.” The caffeine kept me wired until Ana texted me that she was coming over. I just wanted things to go back to normal between us. And she didn’t even know they weren’t normal; I was the one being weird inside my own brain. For nearly two years now. She had no idea how I felt about her. Or that it was getting worse. Or how much it sucked to watch her check out every other guy at school, hoping he might lead

her to her wings. She tapped on my window just as I was contemplating swearing off coffee forever. “Shh, don’t wake my grandmother,” I said as she crawled over the ledge. “She’s in a mood.” Ana knew about Nana of course. It was why she rarely came over, and why she never used the front door. Ana had a hundred strange magical rules about being a swan, but the Kents had one family rule: no girls allowed. Okay, two: don’t piss off Nana. When Nana

suddenly inherited three grandsons, she fell on strict rules to keep us together. And she was decidedly old school about punishments. Spartacus, our aging German shepherd, raced into my room. His tail wagged furiously when he saw Ana. When he was a puppy she had snuck in every day for over a month just to play with him. “I thought you were moon dancing tonight?” I asked her. “Later.” She made a face. “I want to avoid Rosalita as much as possible.”

“So where’d you go after school?” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see if she would tell me. She had no reason not to. And I had no reason to even wonder why she wouldn’t. “Edward drove me home.” I wondered if she was blushing. I couldn’t tell; the only light came from a string of old Christmas bulbs over my bed. “And?” I pressed. What the hell was wrong with me? “And, surprisingly, I didn’t make a complete ass of myself.” She smiled drily. “It’s a nice change.”

I wanted to ask her more, but I didn’t want to hear it at the same time. I felt weird. She raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re being weird.” I snapped back to reality. “Sorry, just thinking.” Or not thinking, which was the problem. I changed the subject hastily. “Got more cupcakes for Jackson? Something in a chocolate raspberry that might make him not an asshole? That’d be great. On top of everything, he just got busted for shoplifting again.” Ana sighed, sitting next to me on the

bed. The mattress tilted us into each other. “Rosalita is an asshole, too. Maybe they deserve each other.” “True. Hey, don’t sit on Ray Bradbury.” She shifted. “I have to sit on books in here,” she teased. “The other choice is levitating and I haven’t quite mastered that.” “You can sing the wind up,” I said sternly. “You can mind my books.” “Sir! Yes, sir!” She got to her feet and carefully made her way between George R.R. Martin and Agatha Christie.

“Anyway, my cupcake mojo isn’t enough, apparently.” “What’s going on in there?” Nana shoved my bedroom door open. Ana shot back into the shadows. Luckily her braid wasn’t visible and her overalls were baggy. And Nana was blinking sleepily. She might not even remember this. Still, she was entirely capable of shooting us both if she thought we were intruders. Although seriously who would bother breaking into this old cabin? “I have a friend here,” I said. “Andrew.”

Ana grunted a greeting. She probably thought it was a manly sound. She sounded like a tiny ridiculous pig. It was kind of adorable. “Bit late.” “We have a project due tomorrow. We need to pull an all-nighter.” I couldn’t help but laugh, shutting the door behind Nana. “Way to man up there, Vila.” “Hey, I’d make a great—” She tripped on Spartacus, who had squeezed through the door before it closed completely. I reached out to grab her and we fell into

a pile of flailing limbs on the floor. Books scattered everywhere. Spartacus sat on my chest, his tail smacking me in the face. I pushed him off as Ana giggled so hard she snorted. It made her laugh harder. We were lying close enough that I could see the freckles on her nose, the widening of her pupils. Her laugh trailed off. If I moved even an inch, our mouths would touch. My leg would press into hers. My tiny cramped bedroom was suddenly electric. Spartacus squirmed between us before

I went and ruined everything. I made a mental note to give him all the dog cookies in the house. Because Ana was always looking so hard for her first love, but she never once looked my way. I could take a hint. She wasn’t interested in me, and I didn’t want her to have to say it out loud. It would be beyond awkward. But for a tiny moment there, I’d wondered if she might kiss me back. If she finally saw me. “I should go,” Ana said finally. “It’s late.”

I frowned, scrambling to my feet. “You can’t go alone. I’ll get the truck.” “I have my bike.” She wriggled out of the window. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled up at me. “I’m magic, remember?” I watched her pedal away. “Yes, you are.”

ANA I was late for the dancing again. I was distracted as I picked my way through the fields. Something had sparked between Pierce and me, lying on the floor of his dark bedroom. I was sure

it was just a strange moment, a recognition that he was a guy and I was a girl. Nothing more. It happened sometimes. It was probably normal. But it made me notice the mole by his left eye and the exact shape of his bottom lip. Information I did not need. I blamed the full moon. Mei Lin had plugged portable speakers into her iPod to give us a soundtrack to dance to. The aunts didn’t approve, because by tradition we were supposed to dance to the sound of the

wind or the crickets or the rain. But the aunts weren’t here and crickets really can’t hold a beat. I leaped about with the others, turning myself into a cup to be filled with moonlight and magic. There was always a certain giddiness to the last night of the full moon. It was like the first day of summer vacation; there was nothing you couldn’t do and you were greedy for every sunny lazy hour. Story had stolen pink champagne from the locked chest Aunt Felicity kept in the attic. And I’d picked the last of the blackberries

earlier. They were slightly squished from being in my bag and turned the champagne bubbles purple. My bag now suddenly pulsed with blue light, as if I’d hidden an alien’s head inside. When it kept flashing and flashing, I knew something was up. Only Pierce would text me this late, and if he was texting that much then something was up. Jackson snuck out to follow you. He’s after Rosalita. Shit. I lunged for Mei Lin’s iPod, yanking

the cables out. Silence descended, stealing the loud laughter and the drumbeat we made out of bare feet and earth. My cousins turned toward me. I glanced at Rosalita. “Jackson’s trying to find you.” Story used what was left of the champagne to douse the fire. The smoke smelled sweet and sharp. “He won’t be able to find us,” she said. “He will if he followed you,” I answered. “He’s not a Renard so the spell won’t confuse him. And he knows these woods pretty well.”

“No one’s ever found us here,” Rosalita broke in, but she sounded uncertain. “He got lucky before. And if he’s drunk again he might get lost.” “If we’re lucky,” I said. We weren’t lucky. Jackson emerged into the small clearing, his boots glistening with water. He must have run through the river to gain speed. Of course, Sasha chose that very moment to visit us. Her swan shape was dark against the yellow moon. Mei Lin shouted once, waving her arms. Too late.

Sasha landed softly, a naked girl who shook her arms once until the feathers turned back to bone and flesh and skin. Her cloak pooled around her bare feet. “I thought I’d— Oh.” Even Pierce stared, stumbling out of the woods after his brother. It was one thing to know girls could theoretically turn into swans, and another thing entirely to see it for yourself. He shifted his stare to me. I smiled weakly. Jackson half laughed, startled. But he didn’t look surprised enough, only smug. And that scared me most of all.

Sonnet had an arrow nocked, but she couldn’t shoot it, not with Pierce in the way. Actually, she’d have shot them both, but I stepped in front of him. Mei Lin and Story stepped closer. Rosalita had already stepped back into the trees. “I know what you are now, Rosalita!” Jackson shouted triumphantly. Spit flecked his lips. “You have to go out with me now or I’ll tell everyone! Everyone!” There was nothing else I could do for him now. No cupcake spell could fix this. Pierce had sworn to keep my secret

until he died. His brother had just sworn the opposite. And we’d never offer Rosalita up as a sacrifice to appease him, not anymore. Not since the end of the Middle Ages. Instead he’d have to be the sacrifice. I shifted, grabbing Mei Lin’s bow and quiver. Everyone else was too far away. And everyone else might shoot Pierce for good measure. Especially the aunts, if they came. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not ever. My arrow hit Jackson in the chest. He jerked violently, as if he’d been shot

with a regular arrow. There was a bit of blood, looked like a lot of pain. He wouldn’t remember it. The strand of Mei Lin’s hair around the shaft glittered faintly, like gold, and then the arrow dissolved into dust and drifted away. Pierce stared at me with a look I couldn’t decipher. God, I’d just shot his brother. He’d hate me now. Jackson crumpled to his knees but didn’t fall over. He blinked, as if he was just waking up. “What happened?” Pierce grabbed his shoulder. “You were drunk again,” he said flatly.

“Again? Why?” “Hell if I know.” He blinked again. “I feel funny.” Pierce helped him up. “Let’s get you home.” What could I say? I’m sorry I shot your brother? I hope he won’t go totally crazy? And by the way, are you still picking me up for school in the morning? I just wanted this whole day to have never happened. I watched him walk away, feeling like the swan egg I’d found by the house pond once: cracked and fragile. Empty.

Chapter Four ANA By Sunday afternoon, I still hadn’t heard from Pierce. We never went this long without talking. It made me feel sick. Apparently, I looked as awful as I felt because Aunt

Felicity kept giving me herbal teas and telling me I might have consumption. Or a megrim. Basically, a bunch of Victorian words for “you look like hell.” Even Aunt Aisha remarked on it, which wasn’t a good sign. “Are you pining?” “No,” I replied, affronted. We’d told them what had happened with Jackson, of course, but there was nothing to do about it now but wait. I’d never shot anyone before. I had no idea if I’d left him befuddled or downright stupid. It wasn’t like cupcakes; you

couldn’t measure that kind of magic. You couldn’t undo it. And you always paid a price. Usually, it was feeling like you had the worst flu ever, but for me it was the gnawing fear that I’d damaged something between Pierce and me. The thought of losing him made me feel unreasonable. Panicked. Basically I was freaking out. Because Pierce’s brothers might drive him nuts, but they were family and I wasn’t. And I knew exactly how far people would go for family. I burrowed deeper in my nest of

blankets and stared at my mother’s painting of Cygnet House. It hung across from my bed, a riot of dripping paints and smears. The sky was filled with white feathers, some forming snowflakes. It had a dark, uncomfortable quality. Pierce never could figure out why I liked it so much. Mostly, it was because the brushstrokes were so bold and noticeable, concrete proof that my mother had lived here once, had affected something, even if it was just a canvas. Maybe she was gone, but something still remained.

Above the painting, a huge wicker basket hung from the ceiling. It was filled with swan feathers; tiny downy ones, long elegant and white, and everything in between. There were tail feathers for flying, chest feathers for warmth. The spines were translucent, like mother of pearl held up to the light. One day, someday, I would sew them all onto my blue cloak. I would wear the silver arrow pendant all the Vila swans wore. I would lift up into the sky and finally be a proper part of family tradition. And the space between my

shoulder blades would stop feeling so hollow. “Sulking won’t change anything,” Aunt Aisha pointed out from my doorway. “You did what you had to do,” she reminded me, sitting on the edge of my bed. I grudgingly moved over to make space for her. “I guess. You’ve shot people before, haven’t you?” “Yes.” “Will Jackson be okay?” “I don’t know,” she replied. “It was your first arrow, and it wasn’t wrapped

in your own hair. That can affect the magic. And he’s young and hormonal, which doesn’t help.” “How can I fix it? What do I do?” “You wait and see.” I frowned. “There has to be some spell I can use.” She shook her head. “Good magic after bad isn’t a solution.” Aisha was just so hopeful and helpful. “How many people have you shot?” I asked. “Enough. My first was a Renard, of course. I was fourteen and he was trying

to steal my mother’s feather cloak. I almost shot your dad once, too,” she added with forced lightness. “You did?” “He was pissing me off.” She grinned. “He kept following me around, trying to sketch me.” I couldn’t help but smile, too. “He still does that.” “I know, it was just last week.” “Just because you have no appreciation for art!” my dad yelled from his studio next door. Aisha and I grinned at each other as he continued to

mutter to himself. “Does it always feel like this?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied bluntly. “What if I never get my wings?” “You will,” she assured me. She paused. “Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll get through it.” “I don’t want to end up like Aunt Felicity.” “Good. She ordered seventeen cloche hats online yesterday. We can’t afford another one of her.” “You know what I mean.” The only

wings I felt was the panic fluttering inside my chest. “I do, and worrying about it won’t change anything. Now, come on.” She slapped my ankle. “Training will do you more good than sitting around here.” I groaned but followed her outside to the training field. I’d shot my best friend’s brother with an arrow; I deserved to run laps. After dinner, I texted Pierce for the hundredth time. I’m coming over. He finally replied. Don’t. Seriously. Don’t.

PIERCE I wasn’t ignoring Ana so much as trying to keep my family from imploding. Jackson fell asleep as soon as I got him home. When Eric asked, I told him he’d been drinking and whining about Rosalita. Stick to as much of the truth as possible. Then I went to my room and stared out of the window until the sun rose. When I first found out that my best friend was part bird, I didn’t sleep for three days. Instead, I read everything I could find on swan maidens, most of

which ended with the swan girl flying away forever. Sometimes I worried that Ana would do the same once she got her swan cloak. But for now, at least, she was anchored. She was still Ana, only slightly quirkier, like I’d discovered she would only eat peas on Tuesdays or thought the color yellow was bad luck. Interesting, but ultimately just another detail. I hadn’t been prepared for the reality of that detail. My head still spun with the way Sasha had transformed, the way she’d melted into another shape, the way

her shadow had clung to the swan shape for just a second too long. And then Ana with the bow. I already knew she was a good shot; we used to practice together. Nana used to get so mad if I missed the target that I would sleep in the shed until she cooled off. Ana was the one who helped me improve. Ana was the one who texted me stupid jokes so I could pretend I wasn’t in the tool shed with the spiders and the rusty remains of the lawnmower. Ana was also the one who shot my

brother. I didn’t blame her, not really. I was going to tell her that as soon as I got some sleep, but Eric yelling woke me up, followed by a rifle shot. Not good. I stumbled outside in my pajama bottoms. Eric was on the porch, looking freaked out. “Jackson is shooting at crows.” “Why?” “I have no idea. He tossed the rifle and headed into the woods.” “Hell. Which way?”

Eric pointed behind the rickety shed. I ran back inside for clothes and boots. Spartacus pressed against my knee, eager to run. “It’s hunting season. You have to stay here.” Jackson’s trail was obvious enough that it might as well have been left by a drunk bear. At least he hadn’t decided to go exploring the marshes. Or the fields around Ana’s farm. I picked up my pace. The trail petered out as the woods got thicker, which meant he must know I was following him now. Ana’s warnings were like a bell inside my skull. Did he

remember being shot? Did he remember who he was? What was I supposed to do if he didn’t? How would I get him to come back home with me? I wanted to call Ana, but I’d left my phone back at the house. There was a tiny sound, just enough to betray that I wasn’t alone anymore. I turned around. “Jackson?” It was Liv. “Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint.” I made a face. She was touchy, but I’d

known her nearly as long as I’d known Ana. I knew she’d help if I needed it. I’d saved her from a fox trap once when she was twelve years old. “I’m looking for my brother. He wandered off and I think he’s…ill.” I didn’t mention the Vila or the arrow. The last thing I wanted to do was to bring the Renards into it. Except that they were excellent trackers, supernatural even. “Give me a hand?” I asked. “Well, since you’re so glad to see me and all.” She fell into step before I wondered if I needed to apologize again.

She was prickly and held a hell of a grudge. She seemed willing enough to help me, though, combing the ground for prints. The pine needles were so thick here it was hard to tell. Her nose twitched and I wondered if she was using scent to track him, but it seemed rude to ask. I knew what she was, but hated talking about it. She pointed to a snapped twig. “He went that way.” We walked for a while in silence. Her family hunted, as did mine, so we’d both been trained to shut the hell up once you

entered the forest. She always seemed to find me when I was out here. She ducked under branches, leading us through a muddy clearing. After an hour, she stopped, annoyed. “He’s going in circles.” “I told you he’s sick. He’s probably confused.” It took another three hours to find him. “There.” He was sleeping, propped up against a tree. He’d draped pine boughs over himself like a blanket. His face was pale and clammy. Fever sweat spiked his

hair. I crouched beside him. “Jackson.” He didn’t respond. I grabbed his shoulder and his eyes opened so abruptly I froze. His eyes were glassy, burning like embers. “Jackson.” He blinked slowly. “Pierce?” I exhaled. Thank God, he knew who he was and who I was. “Time to go home.” “I’m tired.” “I know.” I helped him up, supporting his weight. “You have to try and walk, though.” “I’m thirsty.”

“I know a clean creek he can drink from,” Liv said. “This way.” The water was cold and clear, tumbling over rocks as it meandered deeper into the forest. Jackson dunked his whole head under then drank from his cupped hands as if he’d been lost for days instead of hours. His cheeks regained a bit of color, enough that he didn’t look like wet clay anymore. “He looks like shit,” Liv said bluntly. I smiled weakly. “He’s sick.” She didn’t smile back. “It’s not the flu, Pierce. It’s swan-sickness.”

So much for keeping it quiet. “He’ll be fine.” “Who shot him?” I nudged her out of earshot. “How do you know he was shot?” She snorted. “Please. We know more about Vila arrows than they do. We’re the ones they’re always shooting at, remember?” “So what do I do?” “Why don’t you ask Ana?” “Because you’re standing right here.” She was still scowling, but she answered me. “Well, he knows his own

name so that’s a good sign. And swan magic won’t heal him so don’t bother.” “What about a regular doctor?” “Only if he gets the regular flu.” She shrugged. “There’s not much you can do. Keep him comfortable and keep him from doing stupid things when he’s confused. If he was shot by an older swan who knows what she’s doing, he’ll be fine.” “And if not?” “Then your guess is as good as mine. They’re unpredictable before they get their wings, but they’re always vicious.”

I ignored that. “It depends on whose hair was used and who shot the arrow.” Jackson was snoring, curled by the bank of the water. He looked better, though. “So I should let him sleep before getting him back home.” “May as well, it’ll take you just as long to carry him.” I vaulted up onto a tree branch and settled in to wait. I didn’t even have a book with me. I was annoyed all over again. “Thanks, Liv.” “You can’t trust her,” she said before walking away. I didn’t have to ask who

she was talking about. Jackson didn’t stir for another few hours, by which time I was starving and bored. He sat up, running his hand through his hair. “Why did you let me sleep in the mud?” “Because you weigh a ton.” He yawned. “Was I drinking?” “You don’t remember?” “No.” He pushed gingerly to his feet. He still looked tired, but somehow angry, too. Like he was wound too tightly. “I guess that answers my question, then, doesn’t it?”

By the time we got home the sun was setting and I’d wasted the entire day sitting in a tree. But at least my brother wasn’t insane or an amnesiac and neither of us had been eaten by a bear. Yet. Nana stood behind the screen door, glaring furiously. “You sleep outside tonight.” I groaned. “Nana.” “You left the rifle on the ground,” she snapped at Jackson when he tried to push the door open. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You don’t have respect, boy.” “So why do I have to sleep out here?” I asked tiredly. My phone was inside, my car keys. Coffee. My books. “You left it there.” “To find him.” “Eight hours ago. You boys have no manners. No respect.” She narrowed her eyes. “Behave like an animal and you’ll be treated like one.” The door slammed shut and locked.

ANA Pierce wasn’t at our meeting tree the

next morning. The birch branches were thick with our tokens: blue glass beads, pop can tabs, wind chimes made of bent forks, red ribbons knotted with birthday wishes. We’d been meeting here for years, so he could drive us to school without having to contend with the magic cloaking our house. Once he’d been determined to pick me up at the front door and he circled for nearly two hours, hopelessly lost in his own neighborhood. But he wasn’t here now, and he wasn’t at his locker. I haunted the hallways, feeling useless

and slightly pathetic. By lunch time, I’d worked myself up into a fit. I finally saw him coming around the corner from art class and shoved him so hard his backpack flew off his shoulder. “I said I was sorry!” Not exactly my best apology. “Ow.” Pierce rubbed his shoulder. “The hell, Vila.” I refused to move even as students pushed around me, called by the bell. I may have snarled at a guy who stepped on my foot. Before I could shove him, too, Pierce elbowed me into an empty

classroom. “You’re mad at me,” I said. “I get it. I deserve it. And I’m sorry.” I’d texted him that twenty-seven times. He sighed, shoving his hand through his hair. “I’m not mad at you, Ana.” The emotions swirling through me dissolved so abruptly that I felt like I was deflating. I looked at my shoes. “You should be.” “I might be now,” he said, scowling. “You think I don’t know you saved him from your cousins and your aunts? It’s a mess, but it’s not your fault.”

I shrugged one shoulder. I’d been saving him actually. I felt something suspiciously like tears burning the back of my throat. I needed Pierce more than he needed me, and I couldn’t let anything get in the way of our friendship. Not feuds or magic arrows or the fact that I couldn’t stop noticing his arm muscles. He kept me grounded in an upside-down world. “Ana, for Christ’s sake. You’re my best friend.” “You wouldn’t talk to me all weekend.” It sounded weak when I said

it out loud. “Yeah, because Jackson was losing his shit. And then Nana locked us out and all I’ve had to eat is raw peas from the garden. One crisis at a time.” That snapped me out of it. His nana pissed me right off. I’d keyed her car once, but I never told Pierce. I rummaged through my bag and shoved a granola bar at him. “Eat this. And what about Jackson? Does he know who he is?” “He was sick all weekend. And weird. But now he seems totally fine.

Angrier, but fine.” “Not babbling about swans?” He shook his head, unwrapping the granola bar. “No. And he hasn’t mentioned Rosalita once.” “Also good.” He looked doubtful. “Isn’t it?” I asked. “You tell me,” he murmured, angling his head in his brother’s direction. Jackson stood against his locker, expression intense and cold, eyes tracking Rosalita as she hurried to class, with a kind of hunger that sent shivers down the back of my neck.

“Ophelia’s Bouquet?” I frowned at the new Shakespeare Café menu. “I never called it that!” Our family was good with plants and flowers; good enough that I was already growing and harvesting my own herbal teas. Tradition again, but at least done my way. Pierce’s boss stocked them, as did another café on the other side of town. Shakespeare’s Tea was literally a recipe from The Winter’s Tale with lavender, mint, savory, and marjoram. “You know Denise.” Pierce shrugged. “She saw all the flower bits and went

with it.” “So, Dead Girl Tea? Yum.” Whenever I brewed lavender-honey, Dad asked me why I was drinking old lady perfume. I guessed Ophelia’s Bouquet was a minor improvement over that. “Just be glad Denise decided against serving food,” Pierce continued. “There was talk of Hamlet and Eggs.” By all accounts Denise was a pretty cool boss, but she did love her wordplay. Most of Shakespeare’s puns weren’t PG enough for the café, though. “Well, she lets me sit here for hours

bugging you, so for that she can rename all my teas,” I said. “I’ll even help her. Rosencrantz Rosehip.” “To Bee or Not to Bee Lemon Honey,” Pierce suggested with a grin. His hair flopped over his forehead. “Peking Puck.” “Strawberry Milkshakespeare.” “You win.” He half bowed as my cell phone chirped in my pocket. It was Sonnet. She hated the phone. She hated any forms of communication and people and combinations thereof. I answered

cautiously. “What?” “Meet me at the robot Shakespeare.” In any town other than this one, that might have sounded odd. The main festival theater had a tin statue of Shakespeare that freaked Sonnet out. “Why?” I asked. “Are you okay?” “Renards.” The call dropped. “Crap. I have to go.” “I can go with you.” “You have to close up,” I reminded him, grabbing my bag. “You can’t go alone! What if that

Henry Renard guy is still out there?” “That was last week.” “And your aunt shot him. I can’t imagine that would improve his mood.” “I’ll run really fast,” I assured him. “Text me!” he shouted after me. “Okay, Grandpa!” He was such a worrier. As if I wasn’t trained to protect myself. And as if I couldn’t sing a bigass windstorm to carry me home if I was in trouble. In theory. I’d never actually tried it. It sounded loud. Sonnet was pacing around the statue when I got there, out of breath from

running. “Took you long enough.” “I got here as fast as I could. Which I will demonstrate by throwing up on your foot if you make me run anymore.” “There’s something going on at the river,” she said, stalking away. I had to hurry to keep up. My lungs were not impressed. My leg muscles weren’t even talking to me anymore. “There are people on the island and they’re shifty.” I stopped. “Sonnet, it’s probably a party. With people from school. Normal people. Also? I want to crash a party about as much as you do.”

She half smiled. “I know. That’s why you’re my favorite cousin.” “I’m only your favorite cousin when you want me to do something stupid with you.” When we got to the river, Sonnet went silent and stern. Aisha’s training practically radiated off her. It never seemed to translate through me quite as well. Still, I could stay hidden if I wanted to. A curved wooden bridge led to the tiny island rising out of the river. There weren’t the usual sounds of a dozen high school students thinking

they’re being quiet. We crept closer, lying in the grass along the banks. “Now what?” I asked, pebbles digging into my sternum. I strained to see through the shadows and the moonlight glittering on the water, praying fervently that Edward wasn’t on the island. I grinned to myself. I was thinking about Edward again. Things really were going back to normal. The distinct sound of an angry swan cut through the small-town picturesqueriver quiet. My muscles instantly tensed, prickling with awareness. Cranky swans

weren’t exactly unusual for the Avon River, as the tourists discovered daily during festival season, but this was something else. Another hiss, a strange bellow. The flap of frantic wings. “Coyote?” I suggested, even though they usually stuck to the fields not the town center. “Worse,” Sonnet said, peering through her set of mini-binoculars. I went around with pockets full of herbs; Sonnet had pockets full of army and hunting gear. “Foxes. Told you.” I couldn’t see what they were doing

exactly, or who they were, only that there were two of them wearing black from head to toe. They struggled with something heavy, crossing back over the bridge. Two swans flapped enormous wings, rising out of the water defensively beside them. I couldn’t tell if they were real swans or swan girls. Whatever they were, they were pissed. So was I. Because I could finally see what they were carrying: a cage with a slumped white swan locked inside. I pushed to my feet. “Hey!” What did I

think I could do? Citizen’s arrest? Sonnet swore, following after me with a great deal more stealth. The two people paused. A van sped up along the river. There were no other cars, no one out for a stroll, just us and people stealing swans. I didn’t even have time to sing a song, not that making it windy was going to help at this point. I did try, though, and dust whirled up around them, pelting at their eyes. It wasn’t enough to stop them from reaching the waiting van and sliding the cage in the back. But it was just enough

that one of them paused to point what looked like a tranquilizer rifle at me. Sonnet shoved me in the river, following with a soft splash. We dove under, holding our breaths for as long as we could as we swam to the other bank. When I resurfaced, the van was speeding away, back door unlatched. We tread water for a quiet, shocked moment. “They’re not just stealing cloaks now,” Sonnet said. “They are stealing swan girls. We have to get home.” We hauled ourselves out, keeping to the trees to make sure the van hadn’t

crossed the river to double back. “My phone’s wet,” I said. “So’s yours. Did you drive here?” Sonnet shook her head. “Story dropped me off earlier for patrol.” Nobody loved patrolling as much as Sonnet. “Hopefully Pierce hasn’t left yet,” I said. My overalls weighed a ton. I was carrying half the river in my pockets. “I didn’t recognize them. Did you?” “No. Renard family reunion? Just what we need.” We jogged back to the coffeehouse

where Pierce’s red truck was still in the parking lot. I pounded on the back door. He swung it open, annoyed. He froze. “What happened to you two?” “We need your phone,” I said, teeth chattering. “And a ride home. Something’s happened.”

PIERCE I blasted the heat in the truck as Ana and Sonnet dripped all over the seats. Ana’s long hair was knotted and the color of honey in the half light. I tried not to notice. It didn’t work.

“It might be nothing,” Ana said through chattering teeth. It occurred to me that she had occasion to say that a lot lately. Not a good sign. I tossed her my hoodie. “It’s not nothing,” Sonnet insisted. “You’re paranoid,” Ana reminded her. “They had a swan.” “Exactly,” Ana replied stubbornly. “A swan. Maybe there’s some kind of Ministry of Natural Resources thing. Swan rabies or something.” Even I knew swans didn’t get rabies. She gave me the side-eye even though I hadn’t said

anything. “What, it’s a thing. They tag animals all the time.” The thought of Ana as a swan trapped in a cage made my hands clench around the steering wheel. By the time we reached Cygnet House, Aisha and half a dozen of Ana’s aunts were waiting on the front lawn. I saw the glint of arrowheads. I drove away, trying not to think about swan-sickness. Getting home didn’t exactly help. Jackson was drinking milk from the carton in the dark kitchen. The only light came from the refrigerator door. His

shirt was wet with sweat. “Where’ve you been?” “Working out.” “What’s that?” I asked, noticing the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “Nothing.” I watched him steadily. I knew exactly what was in his hand; I could see just enough of the hair and eye to recognize her. “Is that a photo of Rosalita?” He shrugged. “So?” “So, I thought you were over her.” “I was never into her.” He didn’t smile. “I hate her.”

Ana’s arrow had clearly done something to my little brother. I just wasn’t sure that it was an improvement.

ANA “Is anyone missing?” I asked Aunt Agrippina. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding my breath on the way home until she shook her head. “All accounted for.” Sonnet and I followed her into the house, heading for the kitchen where Aunt Felicity had made more tea that

tasted like wet grass. I added extra honey to my cup. Aunt Aisha was already flying over the river, searching for clues. The others were circling the Renard house. They returned hours later. “Renards aren’t doing anything suspicious that I could see,” Aunt Ellie said. “No cages, no trucks missing.” “So it really could be just a weird swan tagging thing?” I asked. I hadn’t actually believed my own stubborn suggestion. I snuggled deeper into Pierce’s borrowed hoodie until his book-and-coffee smell enveloped me.

“Even if they didn’t do it, you can bet they know about it.” They’d once been behind a very mundane petition to overturn the hunting ban on swans. One of the aunts had retaliated with a letter to the editor in the local paper all about the ancient tradition of fox-hunting. Neither idea appealed. But you try telling adults they are being idiots. “You may as well go to bed,” Aunt Agrippina said. Aunt Sarafina was on the lawn right outside the window weeping and howling. “Like I could sleep,” Sonnet said.

Aunt Sarafina’s lost cloak was starting to take its toll. Loudly. Aunt Felicity stared out of the window, looking strangely forceful. Usually the threat of a Renard sent her to the attic for days, where she spent hours buying things online that served no useful purpose. I went to bed, because if I stayed up every time the Renards did something like this, I’d never get any sleep. As it was, I woke up with the sun, feeling wired and antsy. I was a bottle of soda, shaken up and pressing at the cap, ready to explode. I decided to go to the

pond for a swim before Pierce picked me up for school. Water always soothed us, even before we got our feather cloaks. The swan was already nesting inside; it just hadn’t woken up yet. I tried not to wonder if I was unlovable and destined to join Morag, Felicity and Sarafina. Maybe I’d turn into the crazy old lady who scared all the kids on Halloween. I left my clothes on the grassy bank and waded in. My toes curled at the chill but I waded in further, until the water enveloped me like soft cold silk. I could

let everything go, trusting the water to hold me up. I was part of this story now: water, sky, tiny fish. Nothing else. I floated on my back while the clouds turned pink, then gold, then pale as swan feathers. A breeze spun the lucky tokens dangling in the birch tree. I was calm, happy. And not alone. I hadn’t heard the footsteps with my ears underwater. But I heard the hoot of laughter as a shadow fell over me. I lurched to my feet with an ungraceful splash of water. My clothes were now

dangling in the tree with the crystals and the wish knots. Two boys and a girl stood on the edge of the water, sneering. They had red and brown hair, all the muted forest colors of a fox pelt. Great. Renards. And here I was, unarmed. And naked. Not just Renards, I realized. Liv and her brothers. I let my feet touch the muddy bottom of the pond while my mind scurried from option to option. There weren’t that many. I had nothing on me, literally. And the knife we carried out of family tradition (of

course) was currently being thrown at the tree. It sank into the birch bark. I was probably lucky they hadn’t thrown it at me. Then again, I might have been able to duck it and throw it back. “Look, a swan girl, all by herself,” one of the boys said. “She’s not a swan girl yet.” Liv laughed. “She hasn’t got her wings. Who could love her?” Renards could shapeshift into foxes at puberty. It didn’t matter if they were a boy or a girl. And they didn’t need to fall in love. I could envy them that at least.

I kept below the surface of the water. “What do you want, Liv?” “What do you think? Tell your aunts to stop flying over our house.” I raised an eyebrow. “Give back my aunt’s cloak and maybe they will. Stop trapping swans and maybe they will.” She scowled. “What the hell are you talking about? We keep to the treaty.” Right. The toothless treaty designed to stop us from outright war, but not foster any actual reconciliation. We didn’t touch foxes, and they didn’t touch swans. Wing and fox tail trophies were still left

as reminders and threats, but they were mostly taken from roadkill. Since no one had gone missing, no one pushed the issue. Nobody liked the treaty, but nobody would stand being accused of breaking it. We were in an endless game of chicken. But at least some of us got to wear our clothes. “And you’re the ones leaving steeljaw traps in the woods,” one of her brothers said through his teeth. He was tall and sharp, the freckles across his nose incongruous with the way his hands

curled into fists. “My father lost three of his toes.” I stared at him. “That wasn’t us!” “Of course not,” Liv scoffed. “I told you, Jude. She’s a liar. They all are.” Except I knew we hadn’t set any traps. Too many of the feral aunts lived in the woods. Traps would be a danger to them. Not that Liv and her brothers were going to believe that. They were Renards. I was a Vila. “Let’s cut off her hair.” “Go to hell, Liv.” I felt a real thrill of fear then. If they cut my hair, they’d take

my magic. I’d have less to work with and they might have more to use against my family. Against anyone. “Pierce will be here any minute.” I hated having to use him as a threat, but I could see that it made her pause before she shrugged. “We can be quick.” So I’d had to use my best friend as a threat, against best friend law and feminist law everywhere, and I was still going to lose my hair. I bloody well didn’t think so. I wasn’t about to leave the water, since I was a stronger swimmer. It was

my only advantage at the moment. I backed up into the middle where it was deeper, but the pond was too small to really hold them off. They were already jumping in. Liv and her younger brother had left their boots and clothes on, which gave my nakedness an edge. I was faster, lighter. But Jude had already circled to the other side and was closing in. He’d had the sense to take off his shoes and jacket. I kicked hard and splashed arcs of water in their faces to disorient them as I sang. Down among the dead men,

Down, down, down, down, Down among the dead men let him lie. The wind responded, ruffling the water into tiny whitecaps. It pushed them away from me and they struggled to swim against it. “Shut her up,” the younger Renard said, sounding terrified. Vilas grew up fearing that the Renards could find us anywhere with their pendulums and tracking magic, and Renards grew up scared of our songs. The feud was stupid, and not just because I was losing this fight.

“Block your ears, Lawson,” Liv snapped. Renards usually carried earplugs, but I hoped theirs were too soaked to work. Jude went under, avoiding the wind altogether. I didn’t see him vanish, but I felt his hand around my knee, yanking me down. Water closed over my face and I choked, the song effectively drowned. When I resurfaced, sputtering, Liv had my hair. Lawson was trying to stay afloat with a knife in his fist. I thrashed, scalp exploding with needles of pain. Water went up my nose again. They were

stronger than me. I should have let Sonnet shoot them that day at school. I tried to make myself heavy, to go under the way Jude had, but it was only a momentary respite. In the murky water I could see their kicking legs, grass, but no way out. Until I came back up again. I saw the silhouette of the huge swan before they did. It dove, muscle and strength under a pretty fan of delicate feathers. The vicious black beak jabbed at Liv and her

brothers relentlessly until there were ribbons of blood in the water. They let go of me to protect their eyes. The swan drew back, hissing, with red hair caught in its beak. A smack of a powerful wing sent Lawson underwater. Jude grabbed him and struggled to swim away. Liv followed as the swan landed and reared up, flapping its wings again. I crawled onto the bank, coughing and sputtering as they took off into the forest. I crawled up onto the grass and wondered if I could use this as an anecdote in my essay on family feuding

in Romeo and Juliet. The swan landed near my head, hissing. When she transformed, she was still hissing. I smiled weakly. “Thanks, Aunt Morag.”

Chapter Five ANA I went back to worrying about my homework and Edward because it was a lot more fun. Or maybe worrying was the wrong word.

He waved at me in the hall after the first bell rang. He smiled at me in history class. He was even outside my math class, looking casually surprised when I came out and accidentally stepped on his foot. I had the strangest feeling he’d been waiting for me. “Thanks again for your help with my car the other day,” he said. His hair was tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that was severely and seriously adorable. “No problem,” I replied when I

reminded myself that I actually had to say words out loud. He shoved his hands in his pockets, falling into step beside me. I struggled to think of something to say as we ducked under one of the many banners reminding us that the dance was later this week. “Are you going?” Edward asked. “Um.” I usually didn’t bother going to dances. But if I said that he might think I was morally opposed to them on principle. And did it even matter? Maybe he was just making conversation. “Well,” he said when we entered the

cafeteria. I’d waited too long to answer. I smiled awkwardly. “Would you like to go?” he asked quickly. “With me?” My smile suddenly didn’t feel awkward at all. I knew I was turning red, but I couldn’t help it. “Yes, I’d love to.” I said, my words practically tripping over each other. “I’d love to.” “Cool.” He met my eyes. I felt it all the way down to my toes. The din of the noisy cafeteria receded. It was uncomplicated. I didn’t have to question it, not like that moment in Pierce’s room. I’d been wanting this for years. This was

how I was supposed to feel. “Okay. See you later?” I nodded and he sauntered off to sit with his friends as I blindly made my way to the table where Pierce and I usually ate our lunch. He was watching me steadily. I couldn’t read his expression. “You’re bright red. Are you sick?” I sat down, grinning like an idiot. Maybe I wouldn’t turn crazy or feral after all. “I’m going to the dance.” “So, yes, to that then.” I stared out the window to the grass of

the quad and the small slice of sky visible behind the trees. “What are you doing now?” Pierce asked. “Looking for my swan,” I answered softly, staring through the glass. Unfortunately, I found a swan after all. The next day was one of those perfect autumn days, all sunshine and fading leaves and most of the school would flood out onto the grass to eat lunch outside. We anticipated the bell, skipping out of study hall. Pierce had his nose in a book, reading as he crunched into an apple. When I stopped abruptly,

he walked right into me. “Are you thinking of Ed—” He broke off, swearing softly. I couldn’t move. There was screaming in my head, but the rest of me was strangely calm. A swan lay in the grass, long white neck limp and quivering. I couldn’t tell if it had any wounds. Adrenaline pinched me with cold fingers as Aisha’s training kicked in. I glanced around, assessing escape routes, locating my cousins. Pierce stood very close to me, his fingers hovering over the pocket

knife he always kept in his pocket. He mostly used it to fix various parts of his trucks, but at the moment he looked perfectly willing to stab anyone who got too close. He was shielding me, and I had only a few minutes before everyone else came out and saw it. I took a handful of dried comfrey and mint leaves from my bag and sprinkled it around. I stroked its breast feathers, singing softly. “Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing; Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below; Oh don’t deceive me, Oh never leave me, How

could you use a poor maiden so?” Heat tingled through my fingertips and the swan took a long shuddering breath, but it wasn’t enough. I could taste tears in the back of my throat as I tried to force another song out. Pierce touched my shoulder. He jolted slightly when the magic prickled between us. “It’s gone,” he whispered. “No.” I pressed the herbs tighter between the feathers, shaking my head. “I’ll try harder.” But there wasn’t time. It was already too still, like one of

those ice sculptures at posh weddings. Dead and placed there for all to see. The lunch bell rang before we could do anything else. Pierce pulled me back. I held onto his hand tightly and he squeezed my fingers. Mei Lin was faintly green as she elbowed through the crowd already gathering. Someone sobbed but it wasn’t one of us, just a girl who was sad over a dead bird. Wind ruffled the swan’s feathers. I didn’t know if this was the same swan from the river. I didn’t see a gray van. Just a dead swan. There were too many

small coincidences, but I couldn’t see the story they told, not yet. “Is it one of us?” Mei Lin asked, her voice cracking. “Can you tell? I can’t tell.” I started counting off cousins: Rosalita who looked furious, several of the younger cousins. Ansuya prowled around the swan looking deadly. Story was trying not to weep. A couple of teachers pushed through, alerted by the strangely quiet and still students. People murmured about pranks, or cars going too fast, or glass windows that confused

birds in flight. “Where’s your brother?” I asked Pierce, even though Jackson hadn’t mentioned swans since I’d shot him. Liv wasn’t here, either. I couldn’t tell if there were other Renards in the crowd. “Home,” he replied. “He stayed behind to help Nana hunt for winter meat.” I wanted to ask if they hunted swans. I’d never asked before and Pierce had never told me. I knew most of what they ate was a result of his grandmother’s ability to take down deer and wild

turkey. His part-time work at the café was hardly enough to pay bills and feed a family of four. Not to mention his book habit, but he mostly went to libraries and used book stores. “Don’t touch it,” Ms. Pritchard snapped at a boy. He snatched his hand back. “It might’ve been sick.” It could be someone I knew, someone I loved. I counted cousins again to reassure myself. “They were tagging and treating swans last week,” she continued to another teacher. I looked at Pierce. He raised an

eyebrow. I really wanted to believe these coincidences were adding up to something that had nothing to do with us after all. “Everyone, back inside,” Ms. Pritchard said, pointing at the school. “Cafeteria, now. You, too, Rosalita.” Rosalita was as still as the swan. She couldn’t look away. I nudged her softly. “Rosa, come on.” Tears trembled on the edge of her lashes. “Keep it together,” I said, using Aisha’s favorite training phrase. Aside from “everyone is trying to kill

you,” of course. That one seemed a little obvious.

PIERCE I was going to ruin everything. And I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.

ANA Pierce came over before the dance. He was jumpy and distracted, pacing my tiny bedroom like he was a wolf in a cage. I, on the other hand, was so excited to finally be going out with Edward that I practically sparkled inside. I changed

in Dad’s studio, careful not to get paint on my dress. This would probably be the only item in my entire wardrobe that didn’t have paint or dirt from the garden on it. I felt a little odd in it, as if too much of me was showing in the wrong places. “I look stupid, don’t I?” I asked, practically colliding with Pierce who was basically marching between my closet and the end of my bed. I tugged on the neckline of the dress. “I don’t have the boobs for strapless. What if it falls off?”

Pierce blinked at me. I grimaced, turning to look at myself in the mirror. “That bad?” It was red with a type of tutu material poking out from under the short hem. Mei Lin had lent it to me, promising I would not look stupid. I wasn’t sure if she’d lied. She was a lot perkier than me. She could pull off a tutu. “I wish I could wear my overalls to the dance.” Or even my white eyelet dress for the moon dancing, but it was forbidden. “So wear them,” he said. His voice was hoarse. I wondered if he needed any

of my honey-Echinacea tea blend. I raised an eyebrow. “Oh right. Hi Edward, nice tie, I’m just going to wear these overalls and maybe some hay in my hair. And here, hold my banjo.” Pierce looked away from me, then back again. His gaze continued to bounce all over the place. “Did you drink all of the coffee at work again?” “No, I’m fine.” “Well, get out of my way then, I want to see if it’s too cold outside for this tiny froufrou dress.” He yanked open the sliding glass door overlooking the back

garden. I brushed past him and he jerked back as though my dress was composed entirely of spiders. “What is with you?” I asked, partly amused and partly exasperated. It was a little chilly, but not too bad. I was pretty sure I could pull off my leather jacket with the dress. It didn’t look like it was going to rain, either. I looked up, tracing constellations out of habit. “Orion.” Pierce pointed at a group of stars, three of which formed a line like a belt. Orion’s head was shaped like a triangle. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’ve never sung like you did today. Not like that.” He started to pace again. “Even when you healed my cuts.” “This was more than a cut. But it didn’t do the poor swan any good, though, did it?” I made a face. “Just think what I’ll be able to do when I finally get my cloak.” I thought of dancing with Edward, of the way he smiled at me. “Maybe tonight.” Pierce stopped abruptly, turning to look at me. “Ana, I love you.” “I love you, too, Pierce,” I returned easily.

He made a sound of frustration then advanced so quickly I took a step back. I bumped into the side of the house. “No,” he said very clearly. “I love you.” Everything stopped then sped up. The stars were miniature spotlights aimed at every detail of my expression. Pierce was in shadow but his eyes glittered. “Pierce, this is because of the song spell,” I told him softly, even as part of me tingled when he said it. It was like a comet in my belly, leaving a trail of sparks. I ignored it. Firmly. “Magic sometimes wanders. But it’s not real.” I

was reminding myself as much as Pierce. I wouldn’t risk our friendship to the uncertainties of magic. He’d thank me later, when it wore off. He shook his head. “I felt like this before tonight. The magic only gave me the courage to finally recognize it.” He stepped closer. “I hate seeing you with Edward.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew the magic was twisting things inside his mind. “Pierce, swan magic can be really powerful. It makes people love us just enough to protect us, just

enough to befuddle them. I’m so sorry you got caught in the song.” Even though it had been a healing song. I wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way. Mind you, my cupcake spell hadn’t worked, either. Maybe I just wasn’t very good at this. “You’re really not going to believe me, are you?” I forced a smile. “You’re going to laugh at this tomorrow.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, but his eyes were solemn, intense. “May as well make it worth our while then,” he said, wrapping his hand over the back of

my neck and pulling me into a kiss. Startled, my mouth opened under his as if I was under the same spell. I could blame it on being taken by surprise if I wanted to, but the kiss burned through everything until it was just the two of us in the dark. Like that comet I’d apparently swallowed, pulling us in its wake. His thumb stroked along the length of my jaw. Our tongues touched and I felt it everywhere. Heat curled languidly in my chest, tingled in my belly. The parts of me that weren’t touching him ceased to exist. He kissed me as though he’d

been thinking about this very moment for as long as we’d known each other. As though he was the sea, returning over and over again to the shore. When he pulled away, his hands were still in my hair. I was gasping. My mouth had forgotten it was made for breathing, not just kissing. “If that’s all I get,” he said quietly, his lips barely brushing mine as he spoke, “then I’ll make it be enough. But I had to try to make you understand.” He walked away without another word, without even glancing over his

shoulder at me. I stayed where I was, the wall propping me up because my knees were surprisingly unsteady. Pierce had kissed me because of the magic. But why had I kissed him back? A few hours later, Pierce was on his way back to drive me to the dance. Because things weren’t awkward enough. Edward would never be able to find the farm through the shield spell, and I could have gone in the family van, but Pierce insisted. He’d already said he’d

drive me, and now he was trying to prove things weren’t that awkward. And I was trying to pretend the kiss hadn’t affected me. Epic fail. How were you supposed to forget a kiss like that? Especially since it was so unexpected. I hadn’t anticipated liking it. Or wondering who he’d been practicing with to get that good. It better not be Liv. I walked down the driveway to wait for him at the gate. I was already glad I’d traded Mei Lin’s heels for my converse sneakers. The dress was

enough to deal with. One little breeze and I was practically showing my butt to the world. How did girls wear stuff like this all of the time and get anything done? Of course, most girls didn’t accidentally call the wind up when they hummed. I was already dreaming of the comfort of my jeans, even though I was thrilled Mei Lin had lent me the dress. Green eyes glinted at me from inside a wire cage on the side of the lane. “No.” I stopped in my tracks. “Hell, no. This is not happening.” The fox pressed against the bars, fur

bristling. He yelped and growled when he saw me. I crept closer, moving slowly. He eyed me, his panic and fear shaking the cage. Who had trapped a fox on our property? And so close to the road? That was taking the feud to truly epically stupid proportions. Someone might have literally invited a Renard into our shielded hidden farm. There was no logic to it. And if I showed up to the dance stinking of fox piss I was going to be so very, very angry. “I’m going to let you out,” I said in

what I hoped was a soothing voice. Because I was feeling quite the opposite. “And I refuse to take this as a sign for the rest of the night.” I could go back to the house and figure out who had done this, or I could take care of it. Because there was no way for this to go but badly. It would only feed the feud, bloating it on more violence and relentless retribution. They attacked us, we attacked them. It had to stop. And it would stop right now so I could go on my date and have a lovely normal time, after kissing another boy.

At least they’d used a live cage trap. Liv’s brother had already accused us of maiming them with claw leg traps. The thought nauseated me. I reached for the cage, but the fox growled and attacked the metal, teeth glistening. I snatched my hand back nervously. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you? You’re definitely a Renard.” There was a handle on the top of the cage and it took a surprising amount of courage to reach over and grab it. I curved myself over it so the fox couldn’t

scratch or bite at me. It was an awkward way to maneuver it and it was heavier than it looked. By the time I’d dragged it out to the road, I was sweating and cranky. Pierce rolled up in his red truck just as I was catching my breath. He poked his head out of the window. “Do I even want to know?” “Getting ready for a date.” I blew a lock of damp hair off my face. “Isn’t this how it’s done?” He hopped out, eyeing the cage warily. “Renard?”

“I don’t know. There’s not enough room for it to shapeshift in there. Help me get it into the bed of the truck.” “And what are we doing with it, exactly?” “It’s my new pet. I’m taking it to the dance,” I replied drily. “I’m letting it go, what do you think?” “Says the girl raised on blood feuds, with a fox in a cage.” “Just help me. I can’t release it here. It’s too close to the house.” He hauled the cage up and the fox stiffened, watching him quietly. There

was no snarling or biting. I took a closer look, wondering if it was Liv, but I couldn’t tell. Pierce pulled over on the edge of town and took the cage out. The fox was breathing heavily. I felt sorry for it, if it was just a regular fox. If it was a Renard… I still felt sorry for it, I realized. Not sorry enough to get bitten, though. “We need a long branch,” I said. “Something to open the door without being close enough for it to attack.” “Rabies?” Pierce asked. “Or…magic rabies? Is there really such a thing?” He

shuddered. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” I momentarily enjoyed the image of Liv with fleas. He tugged a long branch off a maple tree as I hopped up into the truck bed. He vaulted in beside me. I couldn’t help but replay the kiss for a moment. A short moment. Okay, long moment. Damn it, why couldn’t he have been a bad kisser? I leaned over, trying to hook the door with the end of my branch. I felt like I was wielding a really long uncooperative magic wand. Poorly.

“You are terrible at that,” Pierce said, amused. “I know how to use a spear though,” I muttered. “You try.” Of course he got it hooked on the first try and lifted the gate. The fox froze for a moment, nose working furiously. There was a flash of green eyes, the rattle of metal, and then he took off into the undergrowth. “Remember this, you mangy beast,” I called after it. “I let you go.” When we got back in Pierce’s truck and there was no caged fox to use as a

distraction, a strange sort of silence settled between us. I pulled a copy of Ulysses out from under my leg, where it was threatening to cut off all circulation. “You only read James Joyce when you’re upset.” “You don’t have to freak out,” he said. “I’m not going to try to convince you to like me in that way. You do or you don’t.” “But what if it’s not that simple?” “In the end, it’s always that simple.” He flipped on the radio. “Let’s talk about something else.”

In the end we didn’t talk at all. I spent most of my time trying not to replay the kiss. “Have fun,” he said when I hopped out of the cab. He drove away before I could reply. I was feeling a nauseating mixture of worry, anxiety, and excitement as I walked into the school. The dance was like a miniature contained explosion within the dim, silent halls. Music and lights spilled out at the edges. Edward was waiting inside the doors. There were white balloons on the floor

being kicked up by glittering heels. The chemical smell of dry ice competed with perfume and cologne and the contraband vodka someone had already spilled. It was nice in its own way; simple. A boy and a girl at a school dance. Edward frowned at the lights flashing star shapes on the walls. They looked slightly melted. “I told them not to do it that way,” he muttered. He smiled apologetically. “The Drama Club did the lights. I have to fix them. I’ll be quick.” Simple again, when the worst thing to worry about was decorations. There was

no mystery here, no secrets. Well, there were always secrets. There was a swan sleeping inside every moment. But maybe tonight, I could pretend, just a little bit. I didn’t have to think about magic arrows or swans in cages or best friends who kissed you out of the blue right before you went on your first date with your crush. Maybe tonight the pretty lights could just be pretty lights, not something that made it harder to see as I searched the shadows for Renards. “Sorry,” Edward said from behind my

shoulder. His breath tickled the back of my neck, sending hot, delicious shivers along my spine. He was handsome and kind, and being here with him was everything I’d wanted for months now. But here I was thinking about swans and other boys. Edward had finally noticed me and I was too distracted to enjoy it. “No,” I muttered to myself. I wouldn’t waste this moment. “Sorry?” Edward asked, confused. “Oh,” I replied, flushing. “I meant, let’s dance.” Fate finally obliged me and the song

turned slow. Dancing was something I knew I could do. In fact, all of my cousins were doing the same, twirling so elegantly and intensely that the lights flickered and the wind rattled the windows. A draft snaked around my ankles. I noticed Pierce leaning against the wall. I hadn’t realized he’d decided to stay. I lifted my hand in a small awkward wave, before resting it back on Edward’s shoulder. His arm was around my waist, pulling me closer. The moment was warm, like sunlight on your face at

the end of winter. Don’t you dare be distracted, I told myself. I realized I didn’t know much about Edward, aside from the fact that he did set design for the Drama Club, but it was difficult to care about that right now. I used to go to school plays just to see him dash across the stage, wearing all black and looking so serious. He looked serious now as well, looking down at me as if this was a scene in one of those plays. He bent his head and I tilted mine up, and then suddenly we were kissing. His lips were soft and hesitant. When

I responded, the kiss turned openmouthed and slow and sweet. I imagined swan feathers and what it would feel like to fly. I refused to compare it to Pierce’s kiss. He had taken me by surprise. That was why I’d tingled all over like that. I also refused to look in his direction. It wasn’t my fault he’d kissed me. It’s not like I was cheating on him. He was simply suffering side-effects from my song this afternoon. Also, why was I even thinking of that now? Edward was kissing me, for

crying out loud. Someone whistled. Edward pulled away, smiling as star lights crashed over us. “Guess we have an audience,” he murmured. I nodded mutely as the music faded. What did I do now? Say “thank you for kissing me”? He looked at me expectantly. “Where is it?” Liv’s fingers dug into my shoulder. She had no idea she was saving me from an embarrassing pause, especially since she was spitting with fury.

Edward frowned at her. “Hey.” I shrugged her off. “Liv, go away. Seriously. One night without the stupid feud. Is that too much to ask?” She lowered her voice, but it was so barbed with anger it prickled. “Give me back my pendulum.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head. One day, I was going to move clear out of the country, graduate high school, and kiss a boy without interruption. Hopefully not in that order. “Did you hear me, swan?” “Oh, give it a rest,” I snapped. “I

don’t have your pendulum. Like I want some gross old tooth.” Her green eyes narrowed. “I want it back.” “And I want you to piss off. We all want things.” “This is about that day in the pond, isn’t it?” “It’s not actually, but you totally deserve it.” “So you did take it.” She drew her fist back. Pierce was suddenly there, holding her wrist. “Missing quality time together

in detention?” he asked mildly. “Let go, Pierce. She took my pendulum.” “Did not.” “Did so!” What can I say? We bring out the best in each other. “Liv.” He let her go and her arm dropped to her side. I wasn’t sure but it looked like she was fighting back tears. Renards didn’t need their pendulums to shift into totem shape the way we needed our cloaks, but clearly they were still important.

She leaned in close so I could see the sharpening of her teeth. “Pierce won’t always be there to save you.” She shoved into me as she stalked away. Edward whistled through his teeth. “That girl is odd.” If he only knew. Actually, if he only knew me, what would he think then? I refused to worry about it tonight. Because as always, there was something more important to worry about. Rosalita sauntered by as if she was on

a fashion runway instead of a scuffed gymnasium floor. She had her arm through Samuel’s and he looked proud, besotted. When Jackson broke away from the shadows to follow them outside, Pierce and I exchanged a glance. He took off after his brother. “I’ll be right back,” I told Edward.

Chapter Six ANA Samuel slumped against the bricks, moaning. “Crap,” I said. “Was it Jackson?” “I don’t know,” Pierce replied. “I didn’t see anyone.”

I shook Samuel. “Wake up! Where’s Rosalita?” Samuel just groaned again. Pierce frowned. “I think someone hit him on the back of the head.” There was blood in his hair. I glanced at Pierce out of the corner of my eye. “You might want to plug your ears.” He looked briefly annoyed. I barely whispered the song, not wanting to draw attention. I didn’t have any of my herbs on me; they wouldn’t fit in the useless little clutch that matched the dress. The leaves on the ground

skittered like insects. I used the song, the wind, the tingle of magic in my fingertips, pushing it into Samuel’s wound. I imagined a warm glow of light until I didn’t have to imagine it anymore. My palms glowed faintly. Magic wasn’t exactly subtle. Samuel groaned, struggling to open his eyes. “Where’s Rosalita?” I barked at him. He blinked at me blearily and glassyeyed. There was a distinctive whistle, shrill and piercing. Aunt Aisha taught it to us during drills. Something went cold and

sharp in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know what was going on, only that Jackson was the least of our worries. And here I was with my lips still tingling from Edward’s kiss and not a single weapon on me. I’d lecture myself later. Right now we needed to do a lot of running. “We have to find Rosalita now.” I didn’t know what else to do. I looked around wildly, hoping I would think of something. There had only been the one whistle and I couldn’t track it. “Rosalita!” I shouted, listening so hard

for a reply that my ears pounded. I thought I heard the slam of a car door, but that could be anybody. No footsteps. The muffled beat of the music still blaring in the gym swallowed the smaller sounds. Pierce poked his head back around to the door of the gym. “Get a teacher, someone’s hurt,” he called out. Then he popped back around and took my hand. “Let’s go. If I can track deer, I can track your cousin.” I followed him onto the grass, the shadows thick and tangled outside the

security lights. He might be the guy who preferred books and coffee while I always preferred being outside, but he was a better tracker. He searched for footprints, broken twigs, tire marks on the pavement. It all looked the same to me, a jumble of gum wrappers and dead leaves. Pierce turned left, into the copse of trees by the student parking lot. “There.” The gray van was idling, angled toward the exit. The same van from the river. On the steps below us, two people

wearing balaclavas over their faces held a limp Rosalita between them. I launched myself at them, screaming as loud as I could, hoping whichever teacher was tending to Samuel would hear me. My brain was running circles like a disoriented ferret, but my body remembered Aisha’s training. She made us run and duck and fight for hours. It was tradition. Everything in our family was tradition. White dresses? Tradition. Arrows over more practical knives? Tradition.

Run parkour every Sunday morning? Tradition. I’d never been so grateful for strange, illogical traditions. I kicked the first kidnapper in the hip so that he stumbled down the next step, letting go of Rosalita. Pierce threw a punch at the second kidnapper. He dodged, but his hold on Rosalita slipped as well. She crumpled bonelessly. “Take her, too,” the first kidnapper shouted, grabbing for me. He got the hem of my dress and tugged. I knew he was expecting me to yank away so instead I

went forward, slamming into him. He faltered, off balance. The van behind him darted closer, tires squealing. If they got us in there, we’d be done for. There was blood on Pierce’s collar already. We could run, but only if Rosalita woke up. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t move. I opened my mouth and began to sing again, this time as loud as I could. “Down, down, down, down; Down among the dead men let him lie.” The wind responded almost instantly, sliding between the trees and making

whirlwinds of the litter in the parking lot. It whipped into a column fed by my fear and anger. I stepped over Rosalita, guarding her. The Renards never bothered hiding their faces. I didn’t know why they were wearing balaclavas. If they were taking the feud to that kind of level, we might not survive this time. Any of us. They squinted against the angry air as it pressed them back. Light glittered through it like sunlight on water. “Down among the dead men, Down among the dead men.”

I flung more wind at them, tearing and scratching at them. The garbage can slid across the pavement. Thin trees bent double, threatening to snap. Pierce took the hit from the airborne debris, shielding me. On my other side, there was the glint of silver from a knife. My hair lashed my eyes, but I didn’t stop. “Never mind the other one!” They were trying to reach me, hands clutching at the wind. “Grab her!”

PIERCE

I curved around Ana, even though I was pretty sure a dagger wouldn’t bounce off my spine. Who the hell did I think I was? A superhero? Her long golden hair lifted behind her like a war banner. It was beautiful, distracting. And when she took a deep breath to keep singing, it was a clear disadvantage. The driver of the van closed his hand into a fist around her hair. She jerked to a stop, yelping. Her song stuttered. The wind paused. I darted around her and punched him in the side of the throat. He lurched sideways, surprised and suddenly

breathless. But when he punched back, he still managed to catch me in the kidney. Pain exploded through my side. I tried to straighten without wincing. To hell with it. My kidney was on fire and it freaking well hurt. And then his friend was there, a wicked hunting knife in his hand, sawing through Ana’s hair. She kicked back and his knee cracked, but he didn’t let go. Strands of blond hair drifted to the ground, the rest stayed clenched in his fist. I yelled, launching forward. The driver tackled me before I could reach

her. I tried to simultaneously dodge jabs to my nose while keeping an eye on Ana, at least until he caught me on the eyebrow and that eye started to swell shut. Ana fought like a cat, vicious and feral. There was nothing swan-like about her; she was all fury and training. But in the end it only saved half her hair. She managed to twist away, driving her elbow into his throat. When he stumbled, she smashed her knee up into his face. His nose crunched like boiled eggshells. She drove her elbow onto the

back of his head. And then she was singing again, even as she clutched her ragged hair. I managed to heave the driver off of me, scraping his face against the pavement. Ana was wild-eyed, but her voice belonged to a different time and a different place: a fairy tale full of castles and wolves and roses that bled. I forgot about my bruised kidney. She was so close I was diverted by her eyes, a strange blend of lichen-gray and mossgreen. Why was I thinking about her hair and her eyes? What the hell was wrong

with me? The air thickened and darkened around us, and I was left with her smell: summer dust, and grass, and flowers. I decided there were worse ways to die. I swayed closer, both to protect her and because the space between us was suddenly an insult. I barely registered the words, a folk song about broken bodies and broken hearts. We became the heart of a tornado. I could see how much it cost her: she was pale, sweat glistened on her neck, and her eyes were growing bloodshot.

They’d taken some of her magic away, but she kept fighting. Rosalita stirred, adding her voice. She was slurring a little but it still helped. The roar of the air was like a train bearing down on us. Dust, leaves, wrappers, and pop cans were sucked into the sky, circling like guard dogs. Inside the storm, it was windy but bearable. On the other side of the wall of wind I could just make out the glow of streetlights, the flash of the van as it drove away. When the whirlwind dissipated, a rain

of litter fell around us. I didn’t move, not yet. I felt odd, but at least I wasn’t thinking about how pretty she was. She’d kick my ass for that. Some beautiful girls took compliments like an insult. I shook my head, as if her magic song was water trapped in my ears. “Your hair,” I finally said. My voice was cold. I felt it everywhere, like jagged ice. “Never mind,” she said, trembling. The ice turned to a kind of fury I could taste in the back of my throat, like pepper.

“Who grabbed you?” she asked Rosalita. “Was it Jackson?” “Of course not,” Rosalita mumbled, as though her lips felt thick. “You shot him, remember? I don’t know who it was, they wore a mask.” “So it could have been him?” “No, he was walking away. I’d just told him to stop stalking me.” Relief that my brother hadn’t entirely lost his mind helped my pulse slow back down to normal. Rosalita rubbed her arm, bare in her sleeveless dress. “They stuck a needle in

me. Do Renards do that now?” “I don’t know,” Ana answered, touching her uneven hair. “I need to hide this. People will ask questions.” I tossed her my hoodie again, remembering that she’d never given me back the last one I’d lent her. She drew the hood up over her hair. We helped Rosalita up the steps toward the school where most of the students milled on the lawn. Everyone was talking about the freak tornado. Ms. Pritchard was pressing a bandage to Samuel’s face. “Where have you three

been?” she asked us sharply. “Hiding from the storm,” I replied hastily. “We were too far from the doors.” I winced down at Samuel. “Did you get hit with debris?” “I guess so,” he replied, baffled. “I can’t remember.” Rosalita crouched next to him unsteadily. “Where were you?” “Getting something from my car, remember?” she lied. Ana stepped back, already talking to Aisha on her cell phone. There were leaves and twigs stuck to her hair. Edward rushed across the grass and I

had the sudden urge to trip him. “Are you okay?” he asked her. He wasn’t covered in blood and bruises and dirt like I was; he’d been safe in the gymnasium with his perfect hair and perfect teeth. I felt like an idiot for noticing and wondering if that was what Ana liked about him. Watching them kiss on the dance floor was a gut-punch. I knew I should give them some privacy, but like hell I was letting her out of my sight. Not now, with the curve of her neck so vulnerable under her ragged hair.

“My cousin’s not feeling well,” she said, apologetically. “Pierce will drive us home since he lives nearby.” Edward glanced at me. “All right with you, Kent?” “Sure.” “Okay then.” He looked uncertain for a moment, as if he was contemplating leaning in for another kiss. He finally walked away. “Kent, fetch me the first aid kit from the office,” Ms. Pritchard ordered. I glanced at Ana. I didn’t want to leave her alone, even now. She just nodded at

me, still speaking on her cell phone in furious undertones. “Now, Mr. Kent,” Ms. Pritchard insisted.

ANA They’d taken my hair. It usually fell halfway down my back. It was a pain to take care of, but it was also family tradition. A way to keep my magic close. And now it was gone. They’d stolen some of my magic. I could still heal, could still sing the wind,

but it would be that much harder. And there was no telling what they would use my hair for. I reminded myself that there was a time and place to throw a fit, but this was not it. I wasn’t physically hurt aside from a few bruises and magic-fatigue. They hadn’t managed to kidnap me. Or Rosalita. That was the important part. That was the part to focus on. I had to be smart. Calm. Tradition. It had been just another weird family thing to get on my nerves, but now it was a mantra. It calmed my

heartbeat. Aisha had seen to that. She’d trained me to be calm, to escape, to fight. And my dad had made sure I could survive without magic. Wings or no wings, I was as prepared as I could hope to be. Pierce jogged out of the school, throwing the first aid kit at Ms. Pritchard. The fire trucks, which had come to inspect for damages from the tornado, were parked around the corner, red lights flashing. “I told you school dances were a bad idea,” he said. I choked out a laugh as he pulled me

into a hug. He smelled like coffee, like home. “They took your hair,” he said. There was a kind of grayness to his voice, all ice and stone. “I think what they probably really wanted was a feather cloak,” I said wearily. “So ha. Assholes.” “Who did this? Seems a bit much for Renards, doesn’t it?” “I don’t know.” Cutting off my hair was blood-feud behavior. The rest was just way out of proportion. And much too public. “I didn’t recognize them at

all.” The balaclava masks hadn’t helped of course. “We’ve got nothing to go on beyond two guys and a van. And that they know about us.” “It’s enough. We’ll track them,” he promised. I’d never seen him like this, dark and violent. If he was a match, he’d have set the road on fire already. “I’ll find them.” “Aunt Aisha is going to lose her shit.” And they’d effectively ruined my first date with Edward. I might just lose it, too. “Let’s see what we can find out before

there’s an all-out war.” I made sure Rosalita was okay and that Story and Mei Lin were there to look after her when the drugs made her fall asleep on the pavement. They looked at my hair, horrified. Tears welled in Story’s eyes. “Don’t,” I said sternly, because I couldn’t give in to any reactions yet. “I’m fine.” “She’s more than magic hair,” Pierce snapped, grabbing my hand and dragging me to his truck. I could have kissed him. Wait, no. I’d already done that today. I stifled a giggle. He raised an

eyebrow. “Are you in shock? Because none of this is particularly funny.” I swallowed another giggle. “I know. Sorry. Let’s just go.” He blasted the truck heater on my legs until my knees turned pink. “People in shock get cold. Are you cold?” “I’m okay. Can you seriously track a van in a truck?” He stared through the windshield. “I’m sure as hell going to try.” He reversed and turned out of the school parking lot. “They went this way after you bitch-slapped them with that storm.

Epic, by the way.” “Thanks.” “They burned rubber turning over there.” He drove slowly and I kept quiet, texting my dad just in case word reached him before I got back home. I looked up when Pierce turned right. “Knocked over garbage can,” he explained. “And tire tracks in the grass.” “You’re kind of awesome right now.” I could still say stuff like that, right? It wasn’t weird now, was it? Not for the first time I wished magic made things easier instead of harder.

“Want to see true tracking genius?” He pulled up to the curb and rolled his window down. “Have you seen a van pass this way?” he asked a woman walking her dog. “Hard to miss,” she replied. “Tore past here toward the hospital, I think. That’s usually why people go Mach speed on this street.” “Thanks.” He pulled up to the hospital and stopped. There were too many cars, too many flashing lights, too much information to read properly. “Damn it.”

“It’s still more than we had before,” I pointed out, texting my aunt. “And now Aunt Agrippina can see if anyone checked themselves in. Though I don’t think we injured either of them enough for a hospital visit. Too bad.” Pierce drove me home while we tried not to feel awkward or frustrated by our lack of clues. “Can you stop here?” I asked after I’d guided him into the turn onto the property. The gates were closed tight, gleaming like dark teeth. “I just need one more minute with someone who’s not freaking out.”

Pierce looked at me incredulously. “You think I’m not freaking out?” “You’re not weeping like my dad will. Or doing whatever Aunt Aisha is going to do.” He shivered. “True. But Ana, that was way too close.” Dad was waiting at the gate. He hugged me so hard I nearly swallowed one of his shirt buttons. Aunt Aisha was the next to find us, dropping out of the sky. Her swan wings turned into a feathered cloak at her feet. She was naked and fierce. Poor Pierce, he had no

idea where to look. Dad didn’t even blink. When you lived with people that transformed into swans, you got used to naked bodies. It was the most normal side effect of our magic. Aunt Aisha hugged me just as hard as Dad had. I picked up her cloak and handed it to her. “Pierce doesn’t know what to do with his eyeballs.” Aunt Aisha glanced at him. “He is a rather interesting shade of puce.” “Is that what that color is?” He grumbled, still staring at his shoes. She ran a hand over my hair, mouth

hardening. “Did they hurt you?” “No, we’re okay. I got the impression it was kind of an impulsive kidnapping.” “An impulse that will get them killed,” she promised. “I don’t think it was the Renards.” “Of course it was. Who else would it be?” “I don’t know, but they’re usually subtle about it. They have magic to hide, too. Why change their tactics so suddenly?” “Believe me, I’m going to find out.” Great, more blood feud.

Some of the more feral aunts circled over us in swan-shape. I hugged so many people it was like a blond parade of teary eyes and manic smiles. Pierce stepped back, ready to leave. I grabbed his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked, nervous that when the magic wore off, he’d blame me for thinking he was in love. He nodded, but he wasn’t smiling. “Of course.”

Chapter Seven ANA Edward was waiting for me by my locker. He wore black again, and it made his eyes even bluer. “Is your cousin okay?” he asked. “She was sick at the dance?” he added when I just

stared at him, trying to find an explanation that didn’t involve swans, foxes, and possible kidnappers. I finally nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that. Something she ate.” “How was the rest of your weekend?” I nearly got kidnapped and then I started a tornado. “It was okay.” He tilted his head. “You cut your hair.” I touched the back of my neck, exposed and bare. Aunt Aisha had evened it out for me, using silver scissors that had sat out in moonlight for

three nights, while Sarafina wailed. Then they had me bury the ends of hair under the herbs in my garden. The next morning my lemon balm and mint had tripled in size. “I like it,” he added, almost shyly. I smiled back just as shyly. “Thanks.” “I have to stop in the drama department, but will you eat lunch with me?” “Yes.” Happiness tingled through me. This was it. This was the next step to getting my feather cloak. I stopped by the library on my way to

class to see Pierce. He was stacking books in the back, as usual. This was how I always pictured Pierce: surrounded by books. I paused, wondering if he was back to himself and how to ask him. I put the plate of cupcakes on the shelf closest to him. I’d made them with vinegar and magic, just like before. I’d eaten one myself, just to be safe. “I made you cupcakes.” “It’s not the magic,” he said, without looking up. I exhaled. “Pierce, that’s how magic

works. It confuses you.” “I’m not the one who’s confused.” I had every right to be confused by that kiss. Not that I was still thinking about it. It was a symptom of a bigger problem. Aunt Aisha would tell me to wait it out. Magic faded. Mostly. Usually. “It will go away,” I assured him. “You don’t have to love me back, Ana. But you can’t keep telling me I don’t know my own feelings.” He shoved books onto the shelf with more force than was necessary. He refused to touch the cupcakes.

I hovered there, feeling weird and confused, until the bell rang. Edward held my hand at lunch. He told me about how his mom worked backstage for the Shakespearean company in town and that was why he’d joined the drama department. He sounded proud of her and it was sweet. He wanted to study set design. I just wanted to graduate. It was rare for Vila girls, too many things got in the way: magic, blood feuds, feathers. Insanity. “You sound so ferocious,” he teased me later as we sat at the café and I

talked about studying, because clearly my Vila-flirting-dating implant was defective. It was odd not to be at the counter with Pierce. I’d suggested going somewhere else, but Edward said he knew it was my favorite place because I was here all the time, even when I wasn’t working. I’d forgotten I’d once served him coffee in a fit of awkwardness. “I have to be ferocious,” I admitted. “My family doesn’t care too much about high school diplomas.” That was as much as I could say about them. “So I

have to defend my study time viciously.” “Like the swans at the river,” he joked. “Every year the tourists get attacked over French fries.” I choked on my latte. Pierce had made the foam into the shape of a swan floating on roses. It was almost too pretty to drink. Edward doodled an idea for a backdrop for Macbeth as we chatted. It was nice. It wasn’t feather-cloak-nice yet, but still. An hour later, Sonnet and Mei Lin came in as I was walking up to the counter. Pierce wouldn’t quite meet

my eyes, but at least he smiled at me. I could see his copy of Ulysses by the coffee grinder and I felt guilty and horrible all over again. “Cappuccino,” Sonnet demanded. “Stat.” “Make hers a decaf,” Mei Lin suggested, sliding into the other stool. There were so many silk flowers pinned to her hair she looked like a pomander. I wrinkled my nose at them both. “Don’t think I don’t know Aisha sent you.” “I’m just here for the coffee,” Mei Lin

claimed. “Liar.” “I’m totally here to check up on you,” Sonnet said. “Deal with it.” “You have such a soothing manner,” I teased. “It’s very stealthy.” She shrugged, unapologetic. Mei Lin grimaced at the menu over my shoulder. “Seriously, who names these things?” “The woman in charge of my pay stubs,” Pierce said drily. “So we love the puns.” “And as you can see, I’m totally fine

and hanging out in a public place. Plus, texting my dad once an hour.” Not to mention that my bag bristled with so many arrows I was basically carting a porcupine around. “So go home,” I added. I didn’t need more of an audience for my date. They eventually left but only after Sonnet made kissing noises at us, sucking her lips in like a fish. I vowed to kill her later. It turned out that Sonnet and Mei Lin weren’t actually keeping an eye on me like they said. Well, Mei Lin might have been. Sonnet, on the other hand, was

scoping the café. I found out only because I caught her sneaking out in the van when I got home. I yanked the door open and jumped inside. Sonnet was dressed in black, but there was nothing unusual about that. The fact that Rosalita also looked like a bad movie cat burglar complete with a black knit cap over her hair set off my alarm bells. They looked like doilies. There was no way Aunt Felicity hadn’t knit them. “Do I even want to ask?” I groaned. Sonnet hit the gas pedal and I slid

across the backseat. “You’re in now.” I clipped my belt on. “Sonnet, I’m still tired from being almost kidnapped. Any chance you’re taking me for midnight ice cream?” “We’re going fox-hunting,” Rosalita replied. I stared at her. “Are you still high from that tranquilizer dart?” “No,” she said tightly. “Thanks to you. You saved me. And they tried to take you, too. So now we make them pay.” “Oh my God, Rosa. This isn’t a movie,” I said. “I don’t need to be

avenged. Plus, if I did, I’d do it myself.” “I’m avenging myself, idiot.” “The Renards think we’re weak,” Sonnet added. “Since when do we care what they think?” “Since they’ve started hunting us again. Who do you think took those swans from the river? Who do you think took you?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That van wasn’t at the Renard house when you all patrolled. Remember?” “That means they have secret

hideouts.” “We have secret hideouts.” “And they’ve proved we need them.” I kicked the back of her seat in frustration. “Are you even listening to yourself?” We couldn’t go back to active feuding. There were still swan bones being dug out of the last battle field. Seventeen swan girls had died during the fight. “Sonnet, stop. Don’t make this another bloodbath.” I tried to talk them out of it for the next fifteen minutes, but by the time we pulled onto the Renards’ street they were

just as determined. I couldn’t even text Aunt Aisha since Sonnet had nearly broken my thumb when she caught me trying. My phone currently lived in her pocket. I spent most of the drive surreptitiously undoing the gold hair wrapped around any of the arrows I could reach. The Renard house was as shielded against us as ours was against them. That made me feel a bit better. Probably we’d just drive up and down the street trashtalking them. We all did it at least once after we turned sixteen and could legally

drive. Sonnet had started doing it when she was fourteen. “You guys, this is getting out of hand,” I tried again. The house was made of dark logs and painted with dark green trim. I only knew that because sometimes you could catch a glimpse of it in winter when the leaves had all fallen. It looked like just another house. It was as close as any of us had ever gotten. Sonnet parked off the road, half inside a cedar bush. “That should be enough time.” I swallowed nervously. “Shit. For what?”

Sonnet texted something into a phone as Rosalita slid the side door open. I contemplated leaping out with a shout of warning, but I couldn’t see anything. By the time I could, it was too late. Sonnet had child-proof locked my door. I didn’t think I could fit through the skylight. Besides, someone had to try to stop whatever stupid thing they had planned. “There,” Rosalita said quietly, pointing to a girl hurrying down the lane. I knew that confident, snarly walk; that red hair. Liv.

“She would never come out here alone to meet you guys,” I said. “It’s a trap.” Something was about to go very wrong. “Of course it is,” Sonnet agreed. “She thinks she’s meeting Pierce after his shift. He just texted her.” “What? Where did you even get that?” I snatched Pierce’s phone out of her hand. “It was on the counter at the café.” Sonnet shrugged, as if she wasn’t completely deranged. Liv stepped onto the road, looking furtively behind her. Sonnet sped up with

a squeal of tires. Rosalita leaned out, grabbing Liv by the jacket and hauling her inside. She sprawled against me, shrieking. “Of course it’s you,” she spat, once she’d caught her breath. “Don’t look at me,” I spat back. “I tried to stop them.” “Sure you did.” She kicked at Rosalita, but Rosalita was too fast. She punched the back of Liv’s knees, forcing her down and twisting her arm behind her at a sharp unnatural angle. Liv yelped. Her eyes glinted green, the way a fox’s eyes gleamed at night. Sonnet

was speeding so fast the van rattled like it was about to burst into pieces. I nearly bit my tongue off when she took a turn too tightly. “We know you tried to kidnap Ana,” Sonnet said. “After you attacked Rosalita.” Liv tried to kick again, but it was useless. “Ana’s right here, you head case.” “She got free.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I could see the fear lurking under her temper. I felt it, too. This was how

feuds were irrevocably reignited. It had been petty fighting for years, but something else threatened. Once the flame caught, there was no putting it out. Not without blood. “We didn’t take anyone.” “Foxes lie,” Sonnet said. “Swans die,” Liv returned. “Everyone. Just. Shut. Up,” I yelled at the top of my lungs. There was a beat of surprised silence. “This is stupid. Let her go.” I glared at Liv. “And you tell your family that if one of us is attacked again, I won’t be able to stop them.”

“We didn’t—” “You won’t be able to stop us now,” Sonnet interrupted, unlocking the locks. Rosalita pinned Liv down with a boot on her lower back. Rosalita reached over and pushed my door open. Right before she pushed me out.

PIERCE When I got home Eric was letting Spartacus out the front door. He took off into the shadows at the side of the house, running so fast he nearly tripped on his own feet. Eric watched him mournfully.

“Everyone in this family is nuts, including the dog.” He went back inside, and I detoured to follow Spartacus who was now barking so intently I was afraid he’d cornered another skunk. Jackson came out of the shadows and I took a swing at him before I recognized him. He ducked far more easily than he usually did, as if he’d been practicing. “Getting slow, old man,” Jackson sneered. I rolled my eyes. “Quit being so damn creepy.” Vila arrows could only explain so much. He just smirked and went

inside. I was seriously wondering if I should convince Eric to sleep on the couch. One of us had to get out of this falling-down house and falling-down family relatively unscathed. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be Jackson. And he was stealing again. There was no way he could afford those shoes, never mind the hideous gold chain around his neck. I’d have mocked the old Jackson for it, but this new Jackson was unstable. And I didn’t know how to help him. It was like the arrow had only intensified his obsessive focus.

Spartacus was scrabbling at the shed, trying to get inside. He whined at me when I tried to pull him away. Sighing, I reached for the door handle, but it stuck, and this time it wasn’t because the old wood was warped. It was locked. The shed hadn’t been locked since I burned down the last one. I’d decided I’d had enough of being locked inside at night to “get tough.” It might be nothing, but Jackson had just come from this direction. I didn’t even need to bust the lock. The key was under the rusted water can

where we always kept spares. I had to push Spartacus back to keep him from barreling past me. The smell was weird: dust, mildew, and something rotten. I turned on the light and froze, my body instantly coursing with adrenaline. There were hooks in the ceiling, from which hung long, limp white necks and dangling useless wings. Three dead swans. My blood turned icy. I had to remind myself that Ana didn’t have her feather cloak yet. It was impossible for one of these swans to be her.

Impossible tonight. Not forever. Especially not with Edward in the picture. I wanted her to be happy, and to have her feather cloak even if it wasn’t because of me. But I just didn’t see the connection between her and Edward. She barely knew him, and I knew for damn sure that he didn’t know her. I could handle the ache that she didn’t love me the way I loved her. I just wasn’t sure I could watch her smile that slightly desperate smile anymore, or

constantly scan her surroundings for a swan. She was collecting more feathers than ever before. I saw her sometimes by our wish tree, but I never joined her. I stormed into the house and straight into my brothers’ room. Eric was on his bed, listening to music through his headphones. Jackson was facing his dresser, rummaging for pajamas. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. I ploughed my fist in his face before I’d really decided on a plan. He fell onto his bed, stunned. Eric pushed off his headphones, mouth

hanging open. Jackson flew off the bed, spitting blood. My skinny little brother had turned into a muscle-bound jock in the last few weeks, with enough muscles in his neck to make me wonder how long he’d be able to turn his head properly. Still, I was older. Angrier. “What the hell are you playing at?” I roared. “What’s your problem?” he shouted back. I ducked his punch mostly through luck. Anger could only take you so far. And I wasn’t a fighter, not like Ana.

She’d have had him in a headlock by now. Jackson rammed his shoulder into mine, slamming me into the wall. The lamp fell off his desk. Spartacus barreled in, barking but confused. He didn’t know whom to protect. Jackson caught me in the gut, and only brotherly pride stopped me from throwing up on him. My breath clogged in my throat. I slammed my fist into his thigh since it was the only part of him I could reach from this angle. He staggered. Nana stomped into the room, slapping

us apart. Eric still hadn’t said a word, but if his eyeballs got any bigger, they’d fall right out of his skull. “What is going on here?” “I don’t know.” Jackson wiped blood from his split lip. “Ask Pierce. He’s the one who just went nuts.” “He’s hunting swans,” I said. I definitely should have thought this through before barging in here in a rage. No one else knew that the swans could have been girls. But Jackson knew something. I wanted to punch him all over again. “It’s illegal,” I added,

scrambling for an excuse. “And if we get busted, we can’t pay the fine and we can’t get our license reinstated. And if we don’t hunt, we don’t eat.” I straightened, refusing to clutch at my bruised stomach even though I really wanted to. “I’m not going to get caught,” Jackson sneered. “Well, we don’t eat swans, so you’re just killing for the hell of it. It’s sick. And the shed stinks, so clean it up.” I forced myself to walk away before things disintegrated even further.

And before Nana locked us outside again for fighting.

ANA I landed hard. I hit the ground, the asphalt tearing my sleeves and rubbing my arms raw. I rolled into the grassy ditch, vowing to start my own feud against my cousins. The van sped off. I lay there for a long moment, trying to remember how to breathe. I moved my legs and my arms gingerly, but nothing felt broken. My elbow throbbed

painfully. There was blood on my chin from where I’d scraped the road with my face. Oh yeah, the new feud was so on. Just as soon as I limped the miles home in the dark, of course. I sat up with a litany of curses that might have caused another tornado if I’d sung them. As it was, the wind whipped at the branches, creaking and snapping treacherously over my head. I hauled myself out of the ditch, my head spinning faintly. The throb in my elbow turned to searing stabbing. I swore again, until the

wind shoved me nearly off my feet. It was all of the magic I had left in me after the dance, and it was mostly born of petulance. It left me exhausted and no further ahead. I really wanted my hair back. I was drinking Aunt Felicity’s nasty apple cider vinegar concoctions, but they weren’t making it grow any faster, despite her promises. I was still in the middle of farmland, desperately praying for my cousins to come to their senses before it was too late. I briefly considered walking back to the Renard house to warn them, but I

couldn’t see how that would do anything but make things worse. I fumbled for Pierce’s phone. They didn’t have a landline at his house, but Eric’s number was programmed. He answered, sounding confused. “Hello?” “Is Pierce home?” “Um, yeah. So why is his phone calling?” “It’s Ana.” I sighed. “Put him on.” “Are you okay?” “Yeah, just get your brother.” There was a pause and then Pierce was there. “What’s happened?”

“I’m on Concession 3, out by the old quarry. Don’t even ask.” “I’m on my way.” I started the long limp toward home to intercept him, wishing once again that I had wings. I ran into Liv a kilometer from where my cousins had dumped me. I didn’t know if they’d let her go or if she’d gotten free. She looked just as bad as I felt but entirely in one piece. I heaved a sigh of relief. “I never thought I’d be glad to see you.” “I never thought you’d be the sane one in your family,” she said. She advanced

on me, snarling, but she was limping, too. I held up a hand. “Pierce is on his way.” She stopped, just like I knew she would. She never wanted him to see her at her worst, or her most violent. “You called him? And not your family?” I’d never even considered calling anyone else. Later, I might think about that. Much later, like when I wasn’t covered in my own blood. “He’s the only reason I’ve never taken you out,” she said.

I snorted. As if I didn’t know that. “That and the fact that I’d kick your ass.” She growled and her features went momentarily pointed. She sucked in a deep breath. “Were you really abducted?” “Yes. Well, nearly.” “I knew that freak storm at the dance had Vila written all over it.” I didn’t say anything. I was interrupted by a black truck barreling into view. The windows were down and there were Renards hanging out either side. They screeched to a halt sideways across the

road. Liv’s brothers again. Their focus snapped onto me. “Swan.” They were already leaping out. My ankle was bruised from my fall. I’d never make it into the fields, but I had to try. The sound of animal teeth clacking together behind me made my spine burn. One of them was already in fox-shape and he bit at my leg, catching my pants when I jerked back. “Wait,” Liv finally said. They paused, snarling. “Liv, they need to learn they can’t mess with us,” Jude said quietly.

I opened my mouth to sing, even though I knew they’d probably be just words. Down, down, down, down; Down among the dead men let him lie. The song electrified them. Fear rippled between them, as wind tickled at their hair. It wasn’t much, but they didn’t know I couldn’t do more right now. Every word I sang was like rust and vinegar in my mouth. If I could have spat them out they’d be blunt, ancient daggers buried in the ground for centuries. Down among the dead men; Down

among the dead men. Liv growled, her red hair turning to fur. Her teeth were tiny but too sharp. My song faded before they could realize it was a useless weapon. “Do you really want Pierce to see you like that?” She froze as headlights hurtled toward us. The fox-brothers took off into the fields. The brothers who still looked mostly human backed up toward the truck. There were knives and rifles on the seats. Liv shook her head sharply. “Don’t.” Pierce jumped out of his truck, leaving

the door open. He glanced at the Renards warily. “What’s going on?” Liv smiled at him. “Nothing, we’re all okay.” Pierce looked right at me. I knew the exact moment he noticed the blood and the way I was holding my elbow. I nodded, mostly because I didn’t want him involved. At least on that, Liv and I agreed. She turned to her brothers. “This one tried to help me, even if she was really bad at it. So this one goes free.” She turned, meeting my eyes. “So we’re

even.” I nodded. “We’re even.” She lowered her voice so only I could hear her. “For Pierce.” She smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “For now.” The night did not improve. When we got home, Aunt Agrippina was sitting at the kitchen table with wet hair and a dazed expression. She blinked at Sonnet for a long disoriented moment before speaking. “They took my cloak.” She’d landed in one of the ponds and

tossed her cloak on the shore to go swimming. When she resurfaced after a moment underwater, it was gone. I couldn’t help but wonder what Liv’s family had been doing before they raced in to save her.

Chapter Eight ANA Dating wasn’t easy when you were in the middle of an escalating blood feud. And when you were hoping you might sprout swan wings every time a boy kissed you. Edward was probably

starting to think I had serious problems. I was either focused a little too intently on him, or completely distracted. And I couldn’t exactly explain myself. Again. Pierce was never around at lunch and he took off for the café right after school. I didn’t know if he was mad at me; I just knew things were different. And I didn’t like it. At all. I tried to focus on my homework. My essay wasn’t going to write itself. And unfortunately, magic wouldn’t, either. And, after living my own family feud, I

was starting to really, really hate Romeo and Juliet. Love story, my ass. “Oh, I love Romeo and Juliet,” Edward said, glancing over my shoulder as he sat next to me. I was studying in the cafeteria instead of the library. I didn’t want to date right under Pierce’s nose like that. It seemed rude. But I hated the smell of French fries, and the clatter of trays, and the flickering fluorescent lights. I missed Pierce. I pushed that aside and listened to Edward talk about the set of a

production of Romeo and Juliet his mother had worked on when he was little. It was the reason he’d decided he wanted to study set design. We leaned toward each other as he doodled in the margins of my book. When he turned his face, our foreheads brushed against each other. The chaos of the hundreds of students around us faded away. He kissed me and I kissed him back. It took a moment for me to stop feeling so self-conscious, so aware of my spine and the feathers not growing there. He tasted like sugar. My lower lip tingled

when his tongue brushed over it. His fingertips brushed along my jaw. The pressure between my shoulders faded. I slid my palms up his arms as the kiss deepened. The side of the table dug into my ribs, but I didn’t care. I wanted to feel the kiss everywhere. I wanted our tongues to slide against each other and steal all thoughts out of my brain. I wanted. When we finally broke apart, his eyes smoldered. The kiss was pleasant, like a cupcake. I liked cupcakes. But Pierce’s kiss was dark chocolate;

it was cinnamon and the unexpected bite of chili pepper in the sweetness. And I probably shouldn’t be thinking about it right now. As if I’d conjured him by thinking about it, I spotted him by the vending machine. He was half turned away from us, shoulders tensed. I didn’t know if he’d noticed us, only that joy immediately bloomed and heated like sunshine on my spine when I saw him. Edward left for class, and Pierce walked away from the vending machine empty-handed. I stayed where I was,

suddenly sick of swans. “Sing him a song,” Rosalita suggested from behind me. “He’ll love you then. They both will.” The fact that I was tempted was scarier than anything. Scarier than kidnappers and stolen cloaks and tornados. Scarier even than Pierce not loving me anymore. I didn’t see Pierce again until the next day when I was gathering more feathers by our wish-tree. It was tangled with memories: the length of pop can tabs on a blue ribbon from the summer Pierce

was obsessed with ginger ale, the painted chopsticks my mother used to wear in her hair, the wishbones from countless Kent poached turkeys. It wasn’t really magic, of course, not like the songs or the swans. But I liked to think it had its own kind of power. Today, though, I couldn’t bring myself to wish at all. I had the uneasy feeling I needed to save my wishes. That I would need them soon enough. Pierce came out of the autumn woods, striding through tall goldenrod that glowed with pollen. He was the same

Pierce: tall, handsome, with that quiet, mischievous smile, and yet he was so much more. I couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t just Pierce. He was my Pierce. He paused, looking at me quietly. He didn’t come any closer. “Please don’t go,” I blurted out. “I hate it when you’re mad at me.” “I’m not mad at you,” he replied quietly. “You are so. You’re barely talking to me.” I felt like I might cry and that was too embarrassing for words. “I miss you, damn it. I miss us.”

He sighed and crossed to the edge of the pond beside me. Our reflections touched in the water. “I miss us, too.” “Can’t we go back to normal?” Everything else was too confusing. If I could just get a few quiet days with no crisis of any kind, I might finally get my feather cloak. I could deal with everything else after that. “Please?” “Come on,” he said finally, plucking a small feather out of the weeds near his boot. “I’ll help you look.” I dropped my basket and hugged him as hard as I could. His arms went around

me, warm and steady on my back. I inhaled coffee and paper and Pierce, and I could breathe again. Warmth rushed through me, followed by adrenaline. Everything was going to be okay now. I might not feel for him exactly what he thought he felt for me, but I did love him. There were lots of ways to love someone. And the magic should have worn off by now. There was no reason for him to be embarrassed, or to avoid me. I stepped back, feeling chilled when his hands dropped away. “I’ll even eat your vinegar hate-

cupcakes.” I smiled in spite of myself. He could always do that to me. “They’re not hatecupcakes.” “Well, either way I want chocolate caramel.” He dropped the feather into my basket. He was helping me collect feathers for wings I was going to find with another boy. It should have made me happy. So why did I feel like crying all over again?

PIERCE

I went running until the only thing I could think about was my lungs and their desperate need for air. I’d told Ana I loved her and she hadn’t believed me. There was nothing I could say to persuade her. She was convinced it was some kind of magical side effect, and I didn’t understand how she couldn’t see that I’d always loved her. And there was nothing I could do about it. Even now, when I didn’t particularly want to love her this way. I was going to have to go on pretending. She still spent so much time looking

everywhere else but at me. She sat with Edward at lunch and he held her hand, and I wanted to toss him into the school pool. I spent most of my time in the library with the books. And running. The only reason I caught the glint of the cage was because I was bent over, trying not to cough a lung out of my nose. The trap was set at the edge of a small pond, half covered in water weeds. A swan trap. My fists clenched at the thought of Ana trapped inside it. I searched the area but

I couldn’t find any tracks or any evidence that swans had come this way at all. I found a white feather, but I wasn’t even sure it was from a swan. I tucked it into my pocket anyway. Then I dragged the netting out of the mud and sawed through it with my pocket knife. I dismantled the trap, ripping and pulling it into pieces until my hands bled.

ANA Edward and I finally went out on our first real date. We went for dinner and

then a long walk by the river, near where Sonnet and I had first seen the van and the cages. There were swans floating in the water, but they barely glanced our way. I probably wasn’t related to them. I nearly made a joke about it before catching myself. I wasn’t with Pierce. I had to be careful how much of my real self I revealed. We stopped to sit on a bench and hold hands. There were no swan feathers on the ground, just mangled French fry containers. I was full of nervous energy. Surely, tonight would be the night

Edward helped me obtain my feather cloak. It was a perfect romantic night: all moonlight and the soft sounds of water and the lingering scent of leaf fires. And I liked Edward. He was nice and cute and creative. I’d imagined it was quick as lightning, but maybe it was slow, like a building thunderstorm. Still, shouldn’t I be in love already? What if something was wrong with me? Romantic night, I reminded myself. Stop stressing. Edward was humming along to music pouring out of a nearby pub. I caught

myself joining him, the words like candy on my tongue. He turned his head to smile at me. His eyes were faintly glassy, as if he was dazzled by me. I stopped singing. He blinked. Even with my chopped hair, I had some magic left. Something forbidden rose inside me, like a lazy serpent testing the air. My spine felt naked and cold. Surely a tiny song wouldn’t hurt? Just a little push in the right direction. “Here’s a health to all lovers that are loyal and just; Here’s confusion to the rival that lives in distrust.”

The swans in the river flapped their wings, agitated. I kept singing, feeling the wind rise around us and tingles of eagerness in my fingertips. “But I’ll be as constant as a true turtle dove, For I never will, at no time, prove false to my love.” “You have such a pretty voice,” Edward said, sounding slightly drunk. “I think I might be falling in love with you.” The swell of power and anticipation died abruptly. Shit. Shit.

What the hell was I doing? I drew back so quickly I nearly fell off the bench. I knew better than this. The way Edward was looking at me wasn’t love. It was infatuation and awe and it had nothing to do with me. It was the song. I leaped to my feet. “I have to go.” He scrambled up. “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?” “No.” I shook my head vehemently and tried to smile reassuringly at the same time. “It’s me. I’m sorry. I can’t see you anymore. I’m so sorry.”

“Ana, wait!” He chased after me, but the wind tossed branches in his way and I kept running. I was a horrible person. I ran straight out of town and into the dark farmlands and I was still a horrible person. I couldn’t outrun what I’d almost done. I’d always thought myself secretly better than my cousins because I refused to use magic to find love. But I was no different. I was worse, actually. I’d been so right to warn Pierce that what he was feeling wasn’t real. But then I’d gone and messed with Edward’s brain. He’d

be fine by morning, but I couldn’t see him again. I couldn’t see anyone. Not like this. How would I ever know if someone actually loved me and not my swan? My feet hurt by the time I reached Cygnet House, and the pain between my shoulders was sharp and hungry, like teeth. I went straight into the woods. Morag charged at me from the trees and I let her shove me into the dirt. I didn’t stop her. Aunt Aisha nudged her back, then crouched beside me, frowning. “What’s

wrong?” I hugged my knees to my chest. “I’m a horrible person.” She shrugged. “No more horrible and no less horrible than anyone else.” “I used a song on Edward,” I admitted miserably. She raised an eyebrow. “And?” “And then I ran away.” She sighed. “Ana, you’re not exactly the first Vila to have this problem. A little snippet of a song is nothing. He’ll get over it.” “How am I supposed to get my feather

cloak now? How do I know if someone likes me or if it’s just Vila magic?” She sat next to me. “You’ll figure it out. Everyone does, even regular folk. You can’t ever truly know what’s in someone else’s heart. At some point you just have to trust, I guess.” I wiped my face. “But what if I can’t trust myself? What if I never get my cloak?” “Sometimes it’s so simple we can’t see it for ourselves. Do you know why we need to fall in love to get our totem shapes?” Aunt Aisha asked. “Or more

specifically, why platonic love or familial love, or even loving yourself isn’t enough?” When I shook my head, she continued. “Because we have to prove that we can love something more than the swan, more than ourselves. That’s how we earn our feather cloaks. It’s not about someone loving us, but about us loving them.” She kissed my hair. “Try not to think so hard. Love, like the swan, is all instinct. It’s in your gut, not your head. You just have to be brave. There are lots of ways to fly.” Late that night, I dreamt of Pierce.

Heat bloomed between us, burning away everything but the feel of his body touching mine. His hands were everywhere and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. His skin was hot when I slipped my fingertips over his back, the muscles moving under my touch. We fell into a hot, desperate kiss. His fingers slipped under my hair, digging into the back of my neck. His tongue stroked into my mouth and I shivered, heat pulsing up the back of my legs. I strained against him. He kissed across my cheek, breath tickling

my ear. I kissed him back so eagerly he made a delicious, strangled sound in the back of his throat. I couldn’t get close enough. He was pulling me closer, until our legs tangled and our tongues and our thoughts; until we were so entwined I wasn’t even sure where I began and he ended because surely his breath was my breath, his body my body. He nipped at my lower lip and my bones turned liquid. He was the spark and I was the fuse leading to the dynamite. I hoped I didn’t blow us both up.

I woke up when he lifted his head, confused. “Do you hear singing?” I opened my eyes just as the last of my song faded. The curtains at the window fluttered in a wind called by my voice. In that way of dreams, I remembered that Edward had been there too, just as I woke up, shouting that he loved me. I kicked off my covers, my skin clammy and cold. My heart was racing and my legs prickled, the way they always did after a nightmare. I snuck out behind our cabin and lit a small fire. In the morning I would bake

two dozen cupcakes; one batch for Edward and another batch for Pierce, so we could start from scratch. I’d make sure they were chocolate caramel. Tonight, though, I would protect us in another way. Once the fire had caught, I added all of the feathers I’d been gathering since I was a little girl. The flames crackled, shooting sparks. The smell of burning feathers was oddly sweet. I stayed up all night, until the last of the embers turned white, but the ache

between my shoulder blades remained.

Chapter Nine ANA “You did what?” I’d hoped that by burning my feather cloak, everything would be clearer. Less complicated. Clearly, Pierce didn’t agree.

“Are you nuts?” he demanded. “You’ve been gathering those feathers since you could walk.” “I don’t want them anymore,” I replied stubbornly. He was looking at me as though I’d just announced my intention to chop off my own hand. “I don’t need them.” He stared at me, stunned. We were lying in the back of his truck and I was using his copy of Ulysses as a pillow. I felt the heat of his body along mine. “Eat another cupcake.” There was a plate of them next to him. He crammed one into his mouth, glaring.

“Happy now?” he asked when he’d finally swallowed the last of the icing. Possibly, I’d gone overboard on the caramel. “Ana, you’re a swan,” he continued. “You need the cloak.” “I’m not a swan yet. And I’ve decided not to become one.” He scrubbed his face. “Okay, talk me through how this makes even a lick of sense. Because I’ve seen your aunts when they don’t have cloaks. It’s not pretty. And it’s been freaking you out for years.” “Sometimes it’s okay.” I batted away

the fear. I’d spent so much time obsessing over my feather cloak and worrying about the consequences that it would take some time not to feel the habitual dread. “Anyway, it’s my choice to make.” And some things were worse than cloak-madness. Like using magic to get people to love you. And if I couldn’t trust myself, then even Pierce was in danger. I wouldn’t do that to him. The memory of our dream kiss and our real kiss sizzled together. “I think it’s biology’s choice to make,

actually. Or magic. Magic biology. Whatever.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you thought that was a good idea. What did Aisha do?” “I haven’t told her.” He whistled. “She will go nuclear.” “She doesn’t have to know. I won’t fall in love so I won’t need the cloak. Simple.” “I love you but you’re an idiot.” I winced at the word “love.” He paused. “Shit. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” I shrugged uncomfortably. “I just don’t

want to force people to love me.” He rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to. That’s not how love works.” “That’s how magic works.” I thought of Edward’s glassy stare and befuddled smile and shuddered. I flatly refused to remember my dream. It was making it difficult not to blush every time I looked at Pierce. “Anyway, it’s done now. I feel fine.” “You feel fine now, but what about when you sprout wings like a baby chicken?”

I kicked his ankle. It had only been a few days, but it felt like years since we’d really hung out. And before that it was all full moons and lovesick brothers. “No.” He pointed at my face accusingly. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” “Your face is leaking. Stop it right now.” “I’m just glad you don’t hate me, assbutt.” “Cut it out, buttbrain.” We’d discovered swear words together when

we were seven and combined them in ways that made very little sense. It was comforting. “I still think you’re nuts,” he said. I hadn’t harvested any herbs for almost a week now, and if I waited any longer frost would claim them first. I needed the familiar snip of scissors, the scents of lemon balm and mint and lavender. It helped fill the space in my brain that would have otherwise been running like a hamster in a wheel. I sang a song, but I sang it like a girl, not a swan. I wrapped the stalks in red string and

hung them over the wooden island in the kitchen where Dad had set up hooks for me in the ceiling. The roses from two weeks ago had dried well and would look pretty in the Ophelia’s Bouquet tea blend. I decided to do more reading for my essay, hoping that was a good enough excuse not to be running around the track. And I was even more determined to pass the year and graduate. The Renards wouldn’t take this, too. Neither would family tradition. I read about blood feuds in

Renaissance Italy and the Viking holmgang, which was basically a trial by single combat. The most kick-ass wins. Here, Liv, fight my aunt Aisha. And the weregeld, where some violent crimes extracted a monetary fine, specifically to help curtail blood feuds. Steal my hair and you owe me fifty thousand dollars. The Renards could pay for my college tuition. I took a break, because even though it was interesting, it was depressingly familiar. Dad was pouring water over a pot of his favorite lemon-ginger tea.

There was paint on his knuckles. “Did you train with Aisha?” he asked. “Yup.” “Good. I’m suddenly really keen on you knowing eight different ways to incapacitate someone.” He turned away when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Hopefully that’s the Taser I ordered you online.” Instead, Sonnet stood on the other side of the door, vibrating with rage. “Mei Lin is missing.” Usually we sat out in the garden for family meetings, but now it felt too

exposed. Even the basement felt too exposed, and it was both underground and filled with training weapons. The aunts sat on benches under swords and spears and the rest of us nested on the floor. Some of the fathers were here, too, lined up on one of the benches. Sonnet had arrows in her hand, but there was nobody to shoot them at. Aunt Felicity was in a state, rushing back and forth with teapots of boiled flowers and handfuls of healing crystals. Agrippina sat straight-backed and expressionless. At least the loss of her cloak didn’t seem

to have irreparably damaged her. Yet. The same could not be said of Sarafina. She’d walked into the forest days ago and hadn’t returned. Now we wondered if it was more than swan-sickness. I wondered, again, what form my swan-sickness would take. This time, though, I felt strangely calm about it all. At least it had been my choice. And it would protect those around me. It would protect Pierce. Mei Lin’s mother, Aunt Essie, began to cry, the tears on her cheeks glinting like arrowheads. Carrying a Taser in my

backpack seemed abruptly reasonable. “Mei Lin is a survivor,” Aunt Aisha said. “We all are. That’s why we train you the way we do.” She touched Essie’s shoulder. “Mei Lin doesn’t have her cloak of feathers yet. And that’s what they want. That or her hair. They won’t hurt her.” It was a bit of a leap, but we all grabbed onto it. Mei Lin was hurting, there was no questioning that, but it wouldn’t kill her. She could still get out. We could still rescue her. They’d take her hair like they took mine, but she’d

get over it. Even now, they could be using my hair. To do what? The thought sat like broken glass inside my mouth. “We go now,” Aunt Aisha said. “We hit them fast and hard.” “The Renards keep saying it’s not them,” I offered, even though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. “The Renards lie.” “Maybe, but you’ve searched and searched and you haven’t found any proof, either,” I pointed out. Aunt Aisha pulled a pair of scissors

from a basket on the table beside her. “The younger girls will have to cut their hair.” There was a gasp. It was as shocking and violent as anything else that had happened tonight. We kept our hair long. Tradition. I touched the back of my neck. The others were staring at me. “It will grow back,” Aunt Aisha insisted, though she didn’t look pleased about it either. Aunt Felicity was already wailing. She glared at her impatiently. “It’s more of a liability than a weapon for the little ones. If the Renards want

our hair, we’ll take it first.” I’d been reading so much about feuds that I couldn’t help but think of the Iron Age women who burned down their villages themselves before seeing it fall into the hands of the enemies. I was so tired of having enemies. One of the cousins was already clutching her braid frantically. She was barely eight years old but Aunt Aisha crouched next to her, talking to her like she was a warrior. “You’re going undercover,” she said. “Like a spy. To protect us all. Can you do that?”

She finally nodded, eyes shining with tears. “I’ll go first,” she said fiercely. “So the others aren’t scared. And that way Ana won’t be alone.” Blond hair drifted to the floor and was gathered up into red silk, stored away according to more tradition. I felt less inclined to make fun of it now. The snap of so many scissors was like swords leaving their scabbards. It was a sound of war. And it occurred to me that I’d already burned my best weapon. “How’d you feel about skipping first

period?” I asked, pulling myself up into Pierce’s truck. His truck at least was exactly the same: full of books and dog hair. I used it to anchor my thoughts, which had turned from ferrets to rabid badgers. He slid me a glance. “How else are we going to find Mei Lin?” I’d already texted him about it, but I hadn’t wanted to take it for granted that he’d help me. Not with this. It was stupid of me. He’d be pissed off if he knew I’d wondered for even a second. Pierce touched my wrist. There was a

small zing of electricity. “Okay?” I nodded, swallowing. “My aunts stormed the Renards house last night and two of them were arrested.” And still no Mei Lin. We drove around the school, around the hospital, and up and down the river. I squinted at every house, tree, and flower bed, hoping a clue would just materialize out of nowhere. Frustration tasted like vinegar and pepper, choking me. We drove around for another ten minutes until I couldn’t take the

hopelessness for another second. “You may as well pull over. We’re not getting anywhere.” He hadn’t driven past the Renard house, but then I hadn’t asked him to. Not only were my aunts constantly circling overhead, but also I tried to keep him off the Renard radar as much as possible. Let them think he was Liv’s friend if it saved him. Because our kind of madness was contagious and there was no vaccine. Pierce sighed as if he was holding something back and didn’t want to tell me.

“Ana, I found something in the shed.” I didn’t like the grimness to his voice. It fit too well with the dread on a constant boil in my belly. “What?” “Dead swans.” I went cold all over, my skin prickling painfully. “How many?” “Three.” I felt sick. “Mei Lin.” He shook his head, squeezing my fingers until I looked at him. “They were older than that. They’d…been there for a while. I asked Liv, but she said she’s never seen Jackson with her lot. And

he’s definitely not talking to me.” My shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. It’s like we’re stuck in a kaleidoscope of crazy. More so than usual, I mean. And that’s saying something.” I’d already suggested that someone other than the Renards might be involved, but Aunt Aisha just shook her head at me. “Don’t go looking for devils. We already have Renards.” Followed by: “If you don’t know who the enemy is, everyone becomes the enemy. Focus.” Because platitudes are so helpful.

None of the other aunts would listen to me either. I considered writing them a thesis paper to prove my point. “It still doesn’t make sense that the Renards would have taken me somewhere else. Or Mei Lin.” I rummaged in my bag. “That’s it. I’m making a list.” I’d approach this like homework: plan, schedule, clear concise notes. “Let’s go in chronological order. Okay, so, one, the swans taken by the river. The dead swan at school.” I thought back, remembering the afternoon, the stained broken feathers, Rosalita’s

stifled sobs. “Maybe it was about us giving ourselves away. If it wasn’t the Renards, then maybe whoever is really behind this was watching us and that’s how they knew to grab Rosalita. She freaked out.” He nodded slowly. “And she usually has the guys fighting over her. Dead giveaway.” “Still, all that stuff is pretty typical.” “I’d like to see your dictionary definition of typical.” “The guys at the dance were the weirdest. Renards don’t tend to run

around in balaclavas. They want us to know it’s them.” I flipped the page. “And in the interest of full disclosure, they keep accusing us of leaving leg traps in the woods. Which we never have.” “What about the fox in the cage?” “That’s another weird thing. Not one of us would trap a fox on our own property. It would negate all the magic we put into shielding the entrance to the house. It doesn’t make sense.” I tapped my pen on the dashboard as Pierce drove slowly through the streets. Aunt

Aisha and the others saw things from a distance, linking them from the air. I was still on the ground, probably forever, and so I saw things differently. So much of this was happening on a school level. Even though the Renards said they weren’t behind it. We weren’t behind the leg traps or the fox tails either. Something else was going on. Something that felt like it was getting more and more desperate. “I can ask Liv again, if she knows anything,” Pierce offered. “As if she’d help me.”

“She’s not that bad.” I shot him a look. “Who else would bother kidnapping a Vila?” He frowned out the windshield. “Anyone who has discovered magic is real. Government? Cult? Government cult?” I shivered. I’d take a Renard any day. “So maybe we’re being framed. But by who? And why?” “Jackson’s in up to his eyeballs,” he said. “But he can’t afford to rent a house or whatever.” “That’s my fault. I shot him with an

arrow.” “Because he was being a dick all on his own, remember? I don’t blame you for that, Ana. I’ll follow Jackson and see what I can find out.” “You have to be careful, Pierce. The Renards aren’t good like you.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that good.” He totally was. And only a girl raised in the middle of a blood feud would see it as clearly as I did. I touched his arm. “Be extra careful.” “I’ll be fine. I’m not magic,

remember?” He felt pretty magical to me. I had to look away because I suddenly felt like blushing. For no good reason. He reached over to squeeze my hand but it was quick, friendly. I couldn’t read it. Should I even be reading into it? The person I’d usually ask about this sort of thing was Pierce. “Let’s go through this logically,” I said, a little too loudly. “What’s the first weird thing that happened?” Besides the fact that I wanted him to still be holding my hand.

“Jackson?” “Was that odd or just unlucky?” I thought back. “Jamie having her hair cut off at her own party was pretty strange. Even if her ex did cop to it.” I touched my own hair. “And it’s topical.” “Topical? You’re like a walking thesis paper.” “You have no idea.” “I guess we should start there then. But don’t get your hopes up.” He drove us to Jamie’s house, hiding his truck under a copse of cedar. “This is going to be really awkward if we get

caught. You’d better post my bail.” We scaled the wooden fence and tried not to fall into gopher holes or coyote dens as we made our way around the barn toward the pond. We went into the trees where he and the others had gone to find Jamie’s attacker. Dried leaves and pine cones crunched under our feet. Pierce stopped, crouching down to get a better look at the ground. “There,” he said. “See that? She came out of the woods over here, but there are shoe prints leading back the other way. This isn’t exactly a high-traffic area. They’re

probably from the party.” “If you say so.” I wouldn’t have seen anything if he hadn’t pointed it out. “Now what?” “Now we follow them. If Jamie’s ex cut her hair at the party, why would he take off into the fields instead of back toward the road and his car?” We followed the tracks into the back field. Well, Pierce followed the tracks and I followed him. The dried remains of a soybean crop rattled against our knees. Pierce pointed. “Something went through there. Might be deer, but let’s

track it anyway.” We crossed through the field to the back of the lot kitty-corner to Jamie’s farm. There were more soybeans and then a grove of trees where we lost the trail. The ground was moist and spongy, and the branches poked at us. The remains of an old barn slumbered in the long grass. “Look familiar?” Pierce asked. I shook my head. “No, not really. You?” “Nope. Let’s get closer.” The house was a standard red brick

bungalow. The porch was littered with pine needles, but there was nothing else to hint at the inhabitants, no lawn furniture or water bowls for pets. There was no sound, no movement. No lock on the sliding glass door. The living room had a couch and broken venetian blinds but nothing else. There were no books on the shelves, no television, no racks of DVDs. There was an empty roll of packing tape on the carpet. I opened closets and drawers, but there wasn’t a single scrap of anything personal left behind that I could

use as a clue, nothing but a little plastic Spiderman figure caught behind a bedroom door. No cousins in the basement, no cousins anywhere. Nothing to link them to the Renards and nothing to link them to anyone else. Just an empty house. “Figures.” We went back to the truck, defeated. When Pierce climbed up into the driver’s seat, I noticed the blue and purple splotches crawling up his shoulder. It looked painful. I couldn’t fix anything else right now, but I could fix

that. “What happened to your arm?” “Jackson’s working out now,” he said. “Or watching YouTube Ultimate Fighter videos or something. He punches like a freight train.” “Let me fix it.” He touched my chin-length hair. “What about this?” “I have a little magic left since they didn’t shave off all my hair.” Not much left, but some. Enough for this. Always enough for Pierce. I pulled out a few strands and pressed them gently to the inflamed skin, along

with arnica cream I had in my bag. “My apple tree, my brightness; ’Tis time we were together; For I smell of the earth; And am stained by the weather.” The heat gathered until it glowed faintly through my hand, like a flashlight pressed against the skin. He sucked in a breath as the bruises washed away, fading to the last yellow-green stage of healing. An impossible wind teased at us, sliding between us. “Thank you.” He touched his forehead to mine. “I miss hearing you sing.” He was supposed to. That’s how

magic worked. I clamped my mouth shut on the next verse.

Chapter Ten ANA The days passed in a blur. I went to classes. I worried. I turned down Aunt Felicity’s herbal drinks designed to calm the nerves, because as far as I could tell they were made entirely of pink sugar

and weeds picked off the lawn. We developed a rhythm, and even though it wasn’t a good rhythm, it was better than nothing. I had Pierce back and that made everything else bearable. Even if I’d fed him magic cupcakes and now he didn’t seem to notice if I was standing too close or if our arms brushed. I noticed. We didn’t talk about Edward, beyond the fact that I’d mentioned we were no longer dating. We didn’t talk about Pierce kissing me, either. It was like he’d forgotten, but I still felt it there,

sparking between us. Luckily, or unluckily, we had about a hundred other things to talk about. Starting with Jamie. We cornered her in the hall before the first bell. “I have a quick question for you.” She closed her locker door. “Okay.” And I had nothing. I could parkour up her locker, run a fox to ground, sing up the wind, or smear magic blood on my face, but I drew a blank on subtle investigation techniques. What could I say? Swans didn’t generally do subtle.

“My brother lost my cell phone,” Pierce said smoothly. “At your party. We’ve looked everywhere, but he went off into the fields pretty far with a girl. Any chance you know who lives in the house just behind yours?” I kept discovering these new facets to Pierce, even when I thought I’d known him as well as anyone could. He had this layer of confidence and calm that translated even under the worst my family threw at him. It was pretty amazing. Especially since I was pretty sure my technique would be to shake

Jamie until she said something useful. “It’s totally embarrassing,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Pritchard moved in there a few months back. You don’t know how awkward it is to live that close to a teacher.” I couldn’t hear anything but my blood pounding in my ears. When Jamie went back to class, Pierce touched my arm. “Ana.” “It fits,” I said finally, as I connected the dots in my head. “She was there when I took out Jackson fighting over Samuel. She was there when we found

the swan. And at the dance. She’s part of this somehow.” I was about to be expelled for dropkicking a teacher. “Shit, wait up.” Pierce hurried after me, realizing where I was going. Ms. Pritchard taught history in the classroom at the end of the hall. The one with the window overlooking the steps to the student parking lot. Who knew what else she’d seen? I barged inside and stumbled to a halt when everyone turned to stare at me, including Mr. Bhandari who was, most

decidedly, not Ms. Pritchard. “Oops,” I said weakly. I turned and fled without bothering with an explanation. Whispers trailed behind me. “We’ll come back at lunch and search her desk,” I told Pierce, marshaling my more bloodthirsty thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose, picturing swans flying overhead, able to pick out the rest of the pattern I was missing. “I have an idea!” Pierce groaned. “I’m afraid to ask.” “We’re doing a feature on our new teacher Ms. Pritchard for the school

paper,” I informed him. “Which means we can ask lots of rude, nosy questions.” The receptionist was at her desk in the main office, looking bored. I smiled my most academic smile. “Hi, sorry to bother you,” I said. “We’re doing a piece on Ms. Pritchard for the paper. Can we ask you a few questions?” “Sure, honey.” “What’s her first name? And is she local? Did she go to this high school when she was younger?” There, that sounded vaguely journalistic, didn’t it? So I didn’t take journalism and I didn’t

even know where the school paper office was; it would have to do. The receptionist didn’t seem to think I was insane, so that helped. We found out her first name was Leila. She had a son, around eight years old. She wasn’t from the area and really there were no other details. She was friendly and polite and she made the best coffee in the teacher’s lounge. She had no family in town. And she was out sick with the flu, possibly all week. “She’s not sick,” a teacher I didn’t recognize corrected from where she was

fiddling with the office printer. “She quit.” “Do you know why?” Pierce stood behind me, brushing the small of my back. The heat of his body was grounding. “No idea.” The lunch bell rang and we decided to question Reed, Jamie’s ex, next. He just kept looking from side to side, guilty as hell. Pierce frowned at him. “Dude, you’re a terrible liar.” It’s not like Reed was the one skipping classes to interrogate people. Reed

shifted from foot to foot. “I have to go.” I blocked his way. “It’s not like we can give you detention. We just need to know why you’d chop her hair off. It’s kinda weird.” He looked at Pierce again, looked away. Pierce narrowed his eyes. “What?” “I don’t want to tell you.” “And I don’t want to hurt you,” I returned pleasantly. “But I’m having a really bad week, Reed. Trust me, you don’t want to piss me off right now.” He sighed. “Jackson paid me a

hundred bucks to take the blame. I was drunk and jealous and it seemed like a good idea at the time.” We stared at him. He took a step back as if we were about to take a swing at him. “I changed my mind when I sobered up, but Jackson nearly dislocated my shoulder.” “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.” He hesitated uncertainly, as if I was a teacher who had to dismiss him formally before he could leave. I waved my hands. “Shoo.” He took off at a run. Pierce raised his eyebrows at me. “Where the hell would Jackson get a

hundred bucks?” We waited until the hall was clear before slipping into Pritchard’s classroom. I went straight to the desk. It was covered in textbooks and pens. The top drawer held more pens and a pound of paperclips. I didn’t find anything personal, just ordinary teacher detritus. “Nothing,” I said. Pierce put his arms around me. I let myself lean into his hug. I felt right for the first time in days. I hoped he never let go. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I

promise.” When I found Rosalita she was practically camped inside the fridge at Cygnet House. She raised her eyebrows over a stack of empty puddings cups. “What? I’m stress eating, back off.” Sonnet rolled her eyes. “You should try stress-working-out instead. It’s more helpful.” “Shut up.” “There’s something we have to do,” I said. “If it doesn’t involve chocolate I’m not interested.” She opened another

pudding, shoving a huge spoonful into her mouth. “Samuel is being an ass.” “Think breaking into the school would distract you?” I asked, biting into an apple. She paused. “Actually, that sounds like fun.” “Good, wear black.” “Black is not my color.” “How about prison jumpsuits? Is that your color?” Sonnet asked drily. “Because this is extremely illegal.” Rosalita didn’t look worried. The security guard was straight and male,

and she already knew she could sing her way out of trouble. He let her off campus all the time, even though it was against the rules. Still, she went to change and tied her hair up in a ponytail. “Are the aunts okay with this?” Rosalita asked as we climbed into the van. “If I decide to care about that?” She took the front seat because she always did, and Sonnet drove because she always did, even though she hated the van. She wanted a muscle car, always had. “Aunt Felicity caught me and fluttered,

but she always flutters,” I said. She’d threatened me with wings that wouldn’t grow and cloaks stolen by foxes in the middle of the night. I didn’t tell her that was an empty threat. Instead I snuck away while Agrippina dosed her with whiskey. “Anyway, you’re the best with computers, and we need to find anything on Pritchard before it’s deleted or shredded or whatever they do when teachers quit abruptly.” Rosalita looked smug. “I am pretty good.” Sonnet and I exchanged a glance in the

rearview mirror. I spent the rest of the ride clutching the holy-crap-bar as she decimated the speed limit with extreme prejudice. She only slowed down when we got to the edge of town and I reminded her that getting a speeding ticket right now would be the opposite of stealthy. I googled how to pick various kinds of locks until Sonnet pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “Arrows at the ready,” she said. “We already know this is enemy territory.” Rosalita shivered but her eyes were

narrowed. “If they try anything again I will shove an arrow straight up their—” “Just learn to duck tranquilizer darts first,” Sonnet cut her off. “And stow your pride. This is serious.” “I was trained just as well as you were,” she snapped back. “Prove it.” I sighed. “Would you both shut it? This is the least James Bond thing we’ve ever done, arguing before we even start.” I pulled my hoodie up over my hair and double-checked my pocket knives, the arrows in my bag, and one of the

tranquilizer guns Aunt Aisha had ordered after I was kidnapped. No one asked her where she got them. The school was dark, as expected, except for the security lights. There were no other cars parked inconspicuously or silhouettes of hunters on the roof. I didn’t know if they even did that. “Ready?” Rosalita and I went first, Sonnet following with an arrow nocked to her bow. We circled around back, trying all of the doors. I wasn’t relying on an overlooked unlocked one, but I double-

checked anyway. All of the windows were secured too. We ended up having to break one. Sonnet wrapped her elbow in her jacket and took great pleasure in the crack and clatter of glass. We pulled our hoods tight, covering our hair and faces. I didn’t know where the security cameras were, but I assumed there were a few, even in a small country town school. Luckily for us, there was no alarm system and no security guard at night. The school echoed around us as we headed for the main office. The

emergency exit lights over the doors and lockers gleamed off the linoleum floor tiles. The furnace hummed loudly with no other noises to mask it. Sonnet closed the window blinds in the office and then took up her position on the threshold. We ducked into the principal’s office attached to the main reception area. Rosalita booted up the computer on the desk while I went to the file cabinet. I checked the websites I’d saved and ended up using my pocket knife to jiggle the lock open. Rosalita muttered and typed so fast on the keyboard she

sounded like she was shaking a rattle. I opened up all of the drawers, but most of them were filled with permission slips and letters to the parents and report card templates. “Pritchard takes a lot of personal days,” Rosalita said. “But I can’t really find anything suspicious.” Frustrated, I slammed the last drawer shut. “There has to be something about someone somewhere!” “Teacher’s lounge,” Sonnet called out. “They hang out and gossip or whatever. And keep it down, ninja.”

“You’re homeschooled,” Rosalita pointed out. “By an English literature fanatic nurse. How would you even know that?” “I watch movies.” We shut everything down and went up to the second floor. The lounge smelled like old coffee and cherry disinfectant. We searched everything, including the couch cushions. It wasn’t until I noticed the message caddy behind the door that we had any luck. The cubbyhole with Ms. Pritchard’s name had only a note with the dates of the next parent-teacher

meeting and a scrap of paper stuck in the back corner. It looked vaguely familiar. “Got something,” I said, wiggling it out. I finally got it free and held it up. It was a parking pass for the hospital. Aunt Agrippina’s car was littered with them. My stomach clenched nervously, positive this was something, even if I didn’t know what. “On the night of the dance, those guys who attacked us took off toward the hospital.” The sound of approaching sirens interrupted us. Someone might have seen us and called the police. We stared at

each other for one frozen moment before breaking into a run. On the scale of Staying Unnoticed, getting arrested was pretty high up there, but for some reason we were giggling when we piled into the van. Even Sonnet was grinning, and that was her version of slumber-party-sugarhigh-giggle-fit. We drove over the grass and came out onto the road a little farther down from the exit. Rosalita laughed as the police lights flashed over her face down the street, the car speeding past us. “Well, that was

fun.”

PIERCE When I heard the screen door open in the middle of the night, I was ready. I slipped out my window, landing on the yellowing grass. It was late and there was no reason for Jackson to be going anywhere unless it was covert. Like the place where you’d keep a bunch of cloaks or women who turned into swans, if you happened to be collecting them. He’d stolen Nana’s car keys again. I waited until he was out on the road

before getting into my own truck to follow. I kept the lights off and drove well back. I wasn’t exactly trained in subterfuge driving. He didn’t head into town but instead went north along the edge of the forest before turning onto a barely there trail. There were tire tracks in the grass. I left the truck just inside the property and followed the rest of the way on foot. The trail was about a kilometer long, and the light from the fat moon was the only reason I didn’t lose an eye to any low hanging branches. It was incredibly

slow going. Even my phone was chugging along, unable to find a signal. So much for calling in the swan cavalry. Nana’s car was parked next to a few others outside of a small house. The footprints in the dewy grass led to a large rough-looking barn. I could see the appeal, though. Everyone would overlook it. It wasn’t rough enough to be condemned and not so interesting as to attract kids bent on exploring. And there was no one around for miles, not even crop fields. There was, however, lots of barbed wire fencing in various stages of

rust. And new steel-enforced doors. Who needed steel-enforced doors on a barn that looked more in need of a new roof? “Gotcha,” I murmured. I went around the side, looking for a window, but they were boarded up. There was an old horse stall door but the bottom part was rusted shut. I managed to climb up over it, hoping I wouldn’t land in plain sight. I had no idea what I was walking into. I landed in old hay. I crept forward. It looked like no other barn I’d ever seen. There was a long

desk with a laptop and medical equipment, and the beeping of machines echoing from behind partition walls. Were they experimenting on Ana’s family? It only got worse when I saw the cage. The girl was curled up in the back, dirt and salt stains on her cheeks. Her long blond hair was perfectly combed, at odds with the tears in her clothes and the bruises on her arms and throat. She was gagged. Her left eye was bruised and swollen shut. I wasn’t even sure if she could see well enough to recognize me.

But I recognized her. Mei Lin. She shifted, her good eye widening. I lifted my finger to my lips so she wouldn’t give us away. She visibly restrained herself from rattling at the cage. Her fingers dug into her palms until I saw specks of blood. I tore my eyes away, searching for the key to let her out. The lock was new, but simple. It was the kind you could get at the hardware store. I remembered how Ana kept saying the escalating attacks felt desperate, especially the attempted

kidnapping at the dance. Mei Lin pointed urgently to the desk behind me. I dove for it, rifling through the drawers until I found a key ring that made her jump once, smiling behind her gag. I finally got the lock open and used my pocket knife to slice through the zip ties around her wrists. “We need to get back to my truck,” I said as she stumbled, her legs numb. “Can you run?” She yanked the gag off, eyes burning. “I can run.” There was whimpering coming from farther inside the barn, behind a

partition. How was I supposed to save everyone? When I couldn’t even save myself. Emergency lights flashed. I must have triggered some kind of silent alarm. I didn’t know how quickly the others would respond. Could I cancel the alarm? There were too many laptops, too many flashing screens. Too many tranquilizer darts. The first one hit Mei Lin, stopping her from singing them to a stop. The next hit me in the thigh. Jackson lowered the rifle, smiling. “Well, hello, big brother.”

I was so screwed.

ANA We were well on our way home when a truck drove up so close behind us that the headlights turned the rearview mirror silver. Sonnet squinted. “Could you get any closer, you—” The truck swerved out of the lane with a screech of tires. A flash of light imprinted on my eyelids. The truck cut in front of us, blocking both lanes. Sonnet slammed on the brakes and climbed out, an arrow nocked to her

bow. I shot behind her as Renards spilled around us. Liv was there, of course, with her two brothers and two other girls I didn’t recognize beyond the red-pelt hair. They looked more furious than usual, ear plugs safely in place. Lawson launched himself at me, fist swinging. I blocked with my crossed arms, the hit reverberating up my arms as I kicked him in the knee. “Impulse control!” I barked at him as he crumpled. “Get some.” “Is this what you call impulse

control?” Liv spat. Jude tossed an arrow on the ground, the tip red with congealed blood and fur. “We found this in a fox.” I crouched to retrieve it, keeping a careful eye on him. The shaft of the arrow was wrapped with blond hair but I could tell instantly it didn’t belong to a Vila. “This isn’t one of ours.” “Oh right, ’cause there are others who use magic arrows.” “That’s not our hair, Liv.” “You would say that.” “This from the girl wearing a swan feather,” I pointed out. “Who did it come

from, Liv? Mei Lin?” Sonnet shot her arrow. There was a blind moment of panic when I had no idea where she’d aimed it. It sliced between Liv and Jude, piercing the back tire of the truck. There was a loud violent pop. Sonnet nocked another arrow calmly. “Next one gets me a fox. Where the hell is my cousin? And my mother’s cloak?” “Where’s my aunt?” Jude retorted quietly. “We don’t have her,” Sonnet replied, just as quietly.

“Who else would shoot foxes and leave them out in front of our house?” “The same people who would kidnap my cousin, since you insist it wasn’t you.” “You kidnapped me,” Liv pointed out. “For like ten minutes,” Sonnet shot back. “Boo hoo.” “Enough talking,” one of the other girls said. “Break her face.” Rosalita was standing in the doorway of the van, but she hadn’t actually gotten out yet. When they ran at us, she sang a song so loud and sharp that the wind tore

a branch from a tree and tossed it into the truck’s windshield. Glass shattered, scattering across the road like ice. The Renards covered their heads, ducking low. Sonnet added her own song, one to stop the shards from reaching us. They hovered just out of reach then dropped with the tinny clash of wind chimes. The wind twisted and howled, slapping at red hair and white pointed teeth. Liv was the first to push against it, eyes tearing bloodshot as debris whipped into her face. It didn’t stop her from punching me, and I wasn’t able to

deflect this time. She was faster than her little brother. I staggered back a step but managed to stay upright. My teeth had cut through the flesh inside my cheek and I spat out blood. “Can we try not to be idiots for one damn second?” I ground out. “You Vila started this.” “Then we’ll finish it,” Sonnet promised. “Oh my God, I’m living my freaking essay,” I said, disgusted. This was how people died. This was how the poisoned plant of a feud was

fed. You hit me, I hit you. It was tempting, easy. A plague on both your houses. “Liv, you have to listen to me. This isn’t just Vila and Renards anymore. Something else is going on.” “You’re scapegoating now?” She sneered. The white swan feather in her hair glowed in the headlights. “At least have the guts to own it.” “They’re using us. All of us.” “Why?” “If someone would help me for one goddamn minute, I might know the answer to that! But we’re as bad as our

parents. Do you even know why we’re constantly fighting?” “Because I don’t like you.” “I meant our families, asshat.” “Because you killed one of ours.” “Who? What was her name? His name?” She hesitated, stumped. “Exactly,” I continued. “No one remembers.” “I remember my aunt.” I marched back to the van and pointed inside. “See any Renards tied up in there? See your aunt?”

She lifted her chin. “No.” “Then wake up. Before it’s too late.” Why would no one listen to me? “Ms. Pritchard was the one who sent those guys to attack me.” Probably. Well, she was involved anyway. Close enough. “What?” Liv paused. “Our history teacher?” “Yes, and she made it look like it was the Renards.” “Why would she do that?” “You tell me.” “How should I know?” Her lips lifted off her teeth.

“Let’s go,” Lawson said, glaring at me like I was personally responsible for every Vila crime. “She’s a coward. They all are.” I desperately, desperately wanted to spin-kick him in the spleen. Or let Sonnet poke him with an arrow. “Don’t bother,” I said to her. “He’s just a kid.” He went so red I thought the blood vessels in his cheeks would pop. I felt a tiny bit of smug satisfaction. I wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. Because that was the seductive thing

about feuds. Everything was always someone else’s fault. But then Soliloquy went missing.

Chapter Eleven ANA Pierce wasn’t answering his phone. Fear nibbled at me when he didn’t show up at the pond or at school. I hovered around his locker until a teacher threatened me with detention if I didn’t

get to class. I cornered Eric by the washrooms. “Have you seen Pierce?” “Not since last night. Both he and Jackson were gone when I got up this morning.” I tried not to let him see the alarm his words caused me. I felt cold and hot at the same time. Pierce had said he was going to follow Jackson. What had gone wrong? I took off without saying anything else when I saw Liv stop at her locker. I practically tackled her, forcing her into a nearby empty classroom. “We need to

talk.” She shook me off, scowling. “Have you seen Pierce?” I said before we could get into another round of Your Family Sucks. “Maybe he’s avoiding you.” She smirked. “Maybe he’s missing.” “What?” She paused, narrowing her eyes at me. “My family didn’t take him.” “Are you sure about that?” “We don’t bother with humans. Anyway, what if your family is behind it?” “They’re not.”

“Are you sure about that?” “We don’t have time for this. Can you track him or not?” She stared at me for a long moment before finally nodding once. “I can try.” I made a gesture of impatience. “Not with you here. As if I’d show Renard magic to a Vila.” “Oh my God, like I give a crap about that right now. Use your pendulum or your nose or whatever. Find Pierce.” I stormed out into the hall where I paced and tried not to grind my teeth into stumps.

It was when I thought I would lose him, that something might happen to him —that’s when I knew. That’s when my whole body knew. Liv came to the doorway, pale and wide-eyed. “I can’t find him,” she whispered. “Not a trace of him anywhere. And Renards can find anyone.” Pain bristled along my spine exactly like feathers poking out of my skin. The more I thought about Pierce, the more my spine felt like it was made of cracked glass.

I took off without a word. I couldn’t let Liv see me like this. She might figure out what was happening, she might tell her family. I looked over my shoulder, terrified I was growing wings in the school hallway. My shirt was damp with sweat all along my vertebrae, but there was nothing else. I ducked into the girls’ washroom and splashed cold water on my face and on the back of my neck. It helped a little. I didn’t go back to class; instead I snuck into the family van to wait for my ride home. I was burning up, feverish

and weak but electrified at the same time. There was pressure under my shoulder blades, as if they were lifting off my skeleton. I lay on the backseat and pretended that everything wasn’t falling apart, pretended I could still breathe. Growing wings could wait. Pierce and Mei Lin and the others couldn’t. And with Pierce gone, I was the only one who really believed this wasn’t just a Vila-Renard fight. I had to keep it together. Pierce is okay, I chanted to myself. He was clever. He’d find a way out. Or I’d

find a way in. Either way, he was okay. He had to be okay. I must have fallen asleep because suddenly half a dozen cousins were peering down at me. “You skipped?” one of them asked in disgust. “If you’re skipping class now, I’m definitely skipping tomorrow.” I sat up gingerly. I felt a little lightheaded but otherwise normal. My spine didn’t feel like it was wrapped in barbed wire. I’d over-reacted. Well, about the wings maybe. I was still fullon freaking out that Pierce was missing.

When we got back to Cygnet House, everyone was preparing for the full moon dancing in just a few hours. No one wanted to run out of magic, not now. With my short hair, I’d have to dance twice as hard. I didn’t want to be a scabbard without a sword, as Aunt Aisha always put it. Morag was already soaring above us. Aunt Felicity was wearing seven crocheted shawls and drinking tea from a vase for some inexplicable reason. Agrippina stood in the garden, staring hard at the sky. It was her first full moon

without her cloak. I felt funny again, but not nearly as bad as I had earlier at school. I just felt prickly, like I was full of thorns. Impatiently, I looked outside again but the moon hadn’t risen yet. The sooner I could hoard more magic, the sooner I could go back to hunting for Pierce and the others. I was climbing out of my skin by the time the moon rose in a pale purple sky. I ran out with my blue cloak. It felt different, lighter. More like wings. No, I couldn’t think like that. Dance. Find Pierce. Find my family.

Cousins streamed through the garden, out toward the hills. I made it as far as the back field before stumbling. Pain shot up my back and exploded out of the top of my head. Transforming into a swan wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. It was something out of a fairy tale—shouldn’t it be pretty? I abruptly remembered my fairy tales and wondered if I would even survive this. Especially since I no longer had any feathers to complete the ritual. This wasn’t supposed to be

happening. Not now and not like this. The moon was so bright it cast shadows all around us. Dancing was training, just as much as learning to block a hit and shoot an arrow. I dragged myself up the hill, refusing to acknowledge the pulses of fire under my skin. If they knew I was growing wings, there’d be ceremonies, a cloak to sew, panic that I had no feathers, too much time spent not searching for Pierce. As it was, we were spending too much time not dancing.

My cousins were clustered together, whispering nervously. “What’s the problem?” I asked, teeth chattering even though I was pretty sure I radiated heat like summer asphalt. “Let’s go already.” “We can’t,” Rosalita said quietly. She held up the bottle of the Renard blood we smeared on our foreheads to keep us hidden. It was empty. We stared at each other, blond hair and white dresses gleaming in the moonlight. Agrippina staggered between the trees

from the direction of the house. “The shields are down! Run!” Too late. The foxes had arrived. And they weren’t alone. Everything happened at once. The Renards streamed out of the forest, trailing red hair or red tails. Knives flashed. Orange light flickered wildly from the bottom of the hill. I smelled smoke. Cygnet House was burning. We were exposed, surrounded. Was my dad okay? The sky filled with white shadows and

the sinister hiss of swans. Enormous wings beat a war drum, and beaks broke through skin, leaving jagged gashes and blood. The Renards fought back with daggers and snarling foxes racing low through the grass. Aunt Aisha abandoned her swan shape even though it made her vulnerable. Her black eyes gleamed, and her brown skin was dotted with tiny down feathers like snow. She was beautiful and fierce and at least two of the Renards paused, distracted by the naked warrior woman staring them down. Aisha was a force of

nature, even for us. When she began to sing, the air changed. The grass went flat around her. There was blood and feathers under her feet. I managed to deflect a tranquilizer dart with a song that was more shouted than sung. The wind sent it into the bushes. My eyes stung, prickling with debris and dust. My spine felt like it was re-forming again, pulling my shoulder blades like they were clay to be molded. I fought the swan as desperately as I was fighting everything else. The little cousins were crouched together, Morag

circling over them with a bloody beak. The adults were fighting each other, mostly ignoring them. It all felt wrong. And Renards didn’t use tranquilizer guns. They used their teeth. But the people at the dance used those darts. I dropped lower in the tall grass, searching through the thistles for the direction they were being fired from. There was only the silhouette of black trees and the hungry orange light too busy with its own appetite to help me. “This way,” Aunt Felicity hissed at me. She waved her arms, shawls

fluttering like her stolen wings. I wasn’t sure what she was actually trying to do until I saw one of the aunts sneaking behind her through a hole in the undergrowth. They were escaping to circle round and attack the Renards from the back. We’d circle all night, beaks and teeth and blood and fur. I was so tired I wanted to lie down in the chicory flowers and give up. I clenched my teeth against the hundred little betrayals attacking my body and edged closer. The grass slapped at me, caught in between too

many different songs. A few of the Renards were walking in circles now, bewitched. Darts flew from behind Aunt Felicity, but none of them hit her as she swayed in her own strange flying-dance. I moved slowly, trying to stay invisible. I had to see who was using us against each other, who was winning. I climbed a tree, noticing a van idling in the field at the bottom of the slope. I jumped down, crawling first toward Liv and Jude who’d been beaten back by giant wings. There were bruises already forming on their faces. Blood dripped

from Liv’s hair. “What are you doing out here?” She spun, snarling. “Well, we’re not here to chat, Vila.” “I get that, but why now? How’d you find us?” “We always search on moon nights. And your wards must be down because we finally found you, swan.” I stared at her, momentarily forgetting the battle boiling around us. Our wards were never down. “Don’t you think that’s a little strange?” I finally asked. I needed her to listen before she was lost

entirely to the fight. Because I knew what I had to do. “Are you going to talk me to death, Ana?” Liv snarled, eyes flashing green. I used the pain constricting inside me as fuel. I wondered if my eyes were burning, because they felt hot in my skull. “You couldn’t track Pierce,” I said. “So track me instead.” I tossed my bow aside. “Do it now.”

Chapter Twelve ANA I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. I thought the Vila who were being taken away must be too injured to fight back. Instead it was the aunts who had

dashed through the bushes. They were shot in the back as they climbed down the hill. They crumpled unconscious and were piled into the back of the van. They were stealing swan sisters under our noses. And we were too busy fighting a paper enemy to stop them. I couldn’t stop them by myself. I could barely stand with the weight of invisible wings pressing on my spine. But I could follow them. And hope to hell Liv followed me. I forced myself out of my hiding spot, even though it went against everything

inside me. My heart flung itself at my rib cage. “This way,” Aunt Felicity said. “Hurry.” There were two hunters with tranq rifles too close behind her. “They’re right behind you,” I whispered. “It’s a trap.” She turned, smiling. And then she hit me so hard on the back of the head I staggered and lost my footing. “I know, dear.”

PIERCE

“Jackson you have to snap out of it!” I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but I woke up groggy and dry-mouthed in the cage next to Mei Lin. Jackson was leaning against the wall as if he was having fun. I didn’t even recognize him anymore. Behind him, two other men were dragging hospital equipment out from behind the partition and into the middle of the barn. “What’s going on?” “You’ll see soon enough. I’m not the bad guy here,” he said. I slapped at the bars of the cage. “Wanna bet?” My fingers curled around

the iron. “Why are you doing this? Is it about Rosalita? You have to know how insane that is.” “She never looked twice at me,” he said coldly. “And do you know why?” “Does it matter? Let it go.” “Of course it matters. Money’s always tight. Sometimes we can’t afford food and power at the same time.” “So what?” “So, I’m sick of it. And if nothing else, we Kents are resourceful, right? A few swan freaks and now I have almost enough for my own car and apartment.”

“You find out there are magical people in the world and your first thought is to sell them?” I stared at him, disgusted. “Get a job. Or go back to shoplifting. Not this.” “But this is working. Some might call it ambition, you know. You could be proud instead of being such a wuss.” I wanted to believe this was all the result of being shot with a magical arrow, but I knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t a different Jackson, like I’d assumed. It was just more Jackson. “Don’t bother,” a man with swan

feathers tied in his long red hair interrupted Jackson. “Family never understands.” Mei Lin scrambled to the back of her cage, looking terrified. The man grinned at her, sauntering closer. “Recognize me, do you, sweetheart?” “Hey,” I said, kicking at my cage door to get his attention. “Back off.” He didn’t move away but he did glance in my direction. “This your older brother?” he asked Jackson. Jackson smiled. “Pierce, this is Henry.”

“Henry Renard,” I said, going cold with useless rage. I needed to get out of this freaking box. He’d attacked Ana. I wanted his blood on my hands. “I’m famous,” he chuckled. “Jackson can be, too, if he doesn’t let you hold him back.” I tried to meet my brother’s gaze. “You’re working with murderers now?” He shrugged. “As well as Pritchard?” He tilted his head. “Not as stupid as I took you for, Pierce.” He shrugged. “She saw potential.” I thought back. “She saw you get

punched in the face over Rosalita,” I said flatly. “Then she saw you creep on her and get detention for stealing. Again.” And between the magic and a psychotic teacher, all the worst parts of his personality had propagated like mushrooms in the woods. He shrugged again. “She helped me. I helped her.” “Why attack the Renards then?” I asked, mostly because weren’t you supposed to keep people talking when they were about to do something horrible? “If you’re working with

them?” “They’re not working with them,” Henry snarled. “They’re working with me.” “Besides, if they caught Pritchard’s scent they’d be able to find her again. And anyway, we had to make sure they kept the swans busy so neither of them would fight us. Pretty smart, huh?” “Please, Jackson. These aren’t just birds. They’re girls.” “You’re boring me,” he replied. “Keep talking and I’ll shoot you again.” Henry snorted a laugh, turning to

unlock Mei Lin’s cage. I tried to reach him between the bars. “Leave her alone!” He reached in, hauling her out even as she struggled and fought. His fingers clamped in her hair. I kept kicking at the lock but it wouldn’t give. Some hero I was.

ANA I half slid down the hill, seeing stars. There was a throbbing in the back of my head and when I touched it, my fingers came away bloody. Anger and

adrenaline battled with dizziness. Neither won; I just staggered between them, feeling ill. I had just enough presence of mind to go limp as I stumbled closer to the van. The plan was to play at being unconscious, not actually pass out. Tell that to Aunt Felicity. I didn’t know what she was doing and I didn’t know how to warn the others. I could barely move, disoriented and betrayed and terrified that I was now too weak to fight the swan. I could have sworn I felt feathers slide between my shoulders.

I was tossed into the van. I landed on Aunt Agrippina and tried to stifle a mew of surprise. It was one thing to know what they were doing, and another thing altogether to lie sprawled on a pile of your drugged aunts. I made my breaths shallow when the hunter poked his head inside the van. He muttered something then raised his voice to shout at the others. I jumped, and then froze, waiting for him to stick a dart in my neck. “We’ve got lots,” he yelled. “Running out of space.” When he went around to climb into the

driver’s seat, I rolled to my side, propping myself against the door. It was locked, of course. Not that opening the door to push my passed-out aunts onto the road seemed like a terribly good plan. My head throbbed acidly. I was trying too hard not to throw up to be able to memorize the route. It didn’t take long to get to where we were going, though, and it felt like we took mostly back roads and fields. When the back doors opened again, I went as limp and heavy as I could make myself. If I kicked our captor between the legs,

well, what did he expect from deadweight limbs? He cursed, nearly dropping me. “Give me a hand.” Someone took my weight off the hunter. “Hey, it’s Ana,” Jackson said. I tried not to tense. Or bite him. “Put her with the others. Make sure Pierce sees her.” That meant Pierce was alive. And he was here. My plan had worked. In as much as planning to get captured actually counts as a success. Because at the moment, it was all I

had. I cracked my eyes open, just enough to see the ground swing by as I bumped upside down against Jackson’s hip. The guilt I’d felt for shooting him with an arrow was quickly fading. Very quickly. Especially when he tossed me onto the concrete floor. The pain robbed me of breath, which was good because otherwise I would have screamed. When I heard him walk away, I risked opening my eyes a little more. I was in a barn that smelled of hay and disinfectant. There was a table to my left with a

laptop and beyond that the gleam of metal cages. I couldn’t see well enough to be able to tell who, if anyone, was inside. Not until there was a harsh shout. “Jackson, let her go.” My eyelids popped open of their own accord. Pierce threw himself at the cage wall and it rattled alarmingly, sliding across the floor by a few inches. Jackson dropped one of my aunts next to me and laughed. I met Pierce’s eyes briefly. My spine arced, prickling and jagged. Of course I loved him.

I’d always loved him. Maybe I might have continued to ignore it if he hadn’t kissed me until I felt it burn through me like a forest fire. But I was stubborn and too scared to see it for what it was. I was too scared to admit he might love me even without the magic, or that I might love him. I was so focused on growing wings as proof. But that was magic in the end, and love was a different kind of spell. I should have recognized it when I was willing to give up my cloak instead of risking our friendship. Risking Pierce. But even then

I hadn’t understood what that meant. That I loved him. More than my feather cloak. More than magic. More than anything. I couldn’t believe that he knew himself because I didn’t know myself. I’d taken him for granted. Talk about not seeing the forest for all the trees. I was an idiot. And I was too late. He’d eaten the cupcakes I’d made him. He’d gotten kidnapped. His brother was a mess. And I was destined to be a girl with her swan missing. Half whole.

And I really should be concentrating on the fact that Jackson was currently trying to kick my ass. I panted through the pain, and used my contorted position to scissor-kick his legs out from under him. He landed on his tailbone with a crack. Later, I’d be smug about his cross-eyed gasp of pain. Right now, I tried to crawl to Pierce’s cage. He let out a shout of warning just before Jackson’s hand clamped around my ankle. I twisted, slamming his hand into the ground instead of trying to kick free as he’d expect. He howled.

A boot pressed down on my lower back, pinning me down. “This one’s awake,” Henry Renard said. “Get the others.” A man in a lab coat injected my aunts with adrenaline, shocking them into screaming consciousness. We were rounded together at gunpoint. The darts were replaced with regular bullets. “If you sing, you die,” the hunter from the van warned us, as if he could read my mind. “What’s this about?” Aunt Agrippina demanded.

“Shut up.” The end of his gun slammed into her face and she staggered back, blood oozing from her nose. I caught her by the elbow and we held each other. I hunched, my back curling into itself like a dead leaf. On the walls hung three feather cloaks and a fourth with bits of dusty crochet woven through the feathers. Aunt Felicity’s cloak. There were chains as well, binding Mei Lin to the wall. She looked freaked out but relatively unharmed. In the center of the room was a cot and

a little boy wearing Spiderman pajamas and a breathing tube. Ms. Pritchard sat beside him, holding his hand and vibrating with impatience. There was a gun on the nightstand. I thought of the Spiderman figure in the empty house. “I knew it,” I muttered. She smiled thinly. “Anastasia.” “You did this,” I spat. “Not the Renards.” “Yes. But they were certainly very useful in keeping you sidetracked,” she said. “And can you blame me?” I stared at her. “Uh, yeah. I really

can.” I hope my aunts were paying attention. If anyone survived this, they had to remember this part. She stroked the little boy’s hand, the knuckles looking skeletal under his grayish skin. “Would you do any less for someone you love?” “You want us to heal him,” Agrippina stated, expressionless. The barrel of a gun nudged the back of her neck. I knew she was remembering her own daughter. She looked closer at the boy. “Simon.” She closed her eyes briefly. “You saw me heal him that night at the hospital,

didn’t you?” “I was in the bathroom.” She nodded, eyes shining. “He was so happy for a few hours. He was a little boy again. But then it faded.” “So you slashed my tires.” “I had to keep you there. You left him.” I remembered the day I’d picked her up from the hospital, the same day she’d shot Henry Renard. “And that’s when you met Henry Renard.” “He didn’t think I was crazy.” I really wanted to tell her that was

because he was drunk all of the time. Also? Insane. “I did try to do this gently, you know.” She pulled braids of gold hair from a basket at her feet. I knew my own hair must be in there. “Jamie’s hair,” I said. “Useless, regrettably. But I was still learning about you.” “And the swans at the river,” Aunt Agrippina said. “And the dance.” “You left me no choice. Hair only works for so long. Simon needed more.” “You’ve only used the hair of young

girls,” Aunt Agrippina said. “Try mine.” Ms. Pritchard nodded and a man approached with a knife he used to saw roughly through Aunt Agrippina’s hair. The hair was braided and looped around Simon’s wrists and round his brow like a crown. He took a single deep breath, one that didn’t rattle. It didn’t last. Cutoff swan maiden hair could only do so much; it was always up to the girl. A branch could only grow so long in a jug of water. “It’s not enough,” Ms. Pritchard said, her own breath hitching. “So heal him.

All of you. Now.” The guns cocked like a choral round of a staccato song you only heard once. My mouth went dry. We’d have tried to heal him if he’d asked, but it wouldn’t have worked. This wouldn’t work. Our magic didn’t cure diseases, not when they’d taken hold like this. Some weeds had roots even we couldn’t kill. Soliloquy stifled a sob. There were razor burns on her scalp. “You will sing your song for him,” Ms. Pritchard ordered. “And if you sing it to any other purpose I will shoot you

in the head.” We stood in a circle around the bed, some of us in white dresses and blue cloaks, some of us in chains. Our voices wobbled at first. The air in the barn moved, kicking up the dust dormant in the walls and the cracks of the concrete floor. Our hair lifted as if we were underwater. Someone behind us sucked in a breath. I felt every word of the song in every tiny bone of my back. They melted, shattered, were reforged. We poured magic into the frail body in front of us, trying to get it to latch on, to grow

and bloom. Light poured out of us like a thousand fireflies. Simon’s cheeks went pink, for just a moment. His eyes opened. We tried as hard as we could, but it was no use. Simon was still sick. We were still captured. And now I had wings. The magic called them out and I couldn’t suppress it anymore. My skin prickled and tingled. Everything felt stretched. They unfolded from my back. “You.” Ms. Pritchard aimed her gun at

me. “Try again.” I felt drained and electrified at the same time. Violent rattling came from Pierce’s cage before it went silent. I couldn’t see him. I didn’t know what was happening to him. Or what was about to happen to me. Because I didn’t have any magic left in me, certainly not enough for healing of this magnitude. I was stuck between two parts of myself. And no feathers to make a cloak to control it. Ms. Pritchard only saw the wings. “Heal him or I will shoot your

boyfriend. Your aunts. Your cousins.” I reached my hands out, hoping to buy us time. I didn’t know for what, it’s not like any of us had a backup plan. Simon was so pale and limp in his bed. I felt bad for him. But I didn’t know how to help him. How to help any of us. I sang because it was tradition. Here’s a health to all lovers that are loyal and just! Here’s confusion to the rival that lives in distrust! But I’ll be as constant as a true turtle dove, For I never will, at no time, prove false to my love. There was a small glow of light, and

energy shot up my spine and through my wings. But that was it. Until Ms. Pritchard shot me in the leg.

Chapter Thirteen ANA Pain was fire and salt and acid. I crumpled, blood running down my leg and spattering on the ground. Pierce was screaming something. Blood pooled between my fingers. Aunt Agrippina

moved toward me but was forced back. “Press on the wound,” she told me. “Use both hands.” I clenched my teeth, trying to remember how to breathe. My wings wilted, bending awkwardly behind me. I pressed down on the raw hole in my leg and tried not to gag. Sweat beaded my forehead. “I will shoot her again,” Ms. Pritchard said. “Save my son.” Soliloquy saw the moment her mother decided. “Mom, don’t,” she begged. Because there was one way this might

possibly work. It wasn’t a healing spell or the magic of a song. It was a straight exchange. It was physics really: energy is neither created nor destroyed. It was the same with magic. “I couldn’t save your sister,” Aunt Agrippina told her softly. Her first daughter was born before any of us, and she’d died in the hospital. She’d never even made it home, not once. Aunt Agrippina didn’t talk about it. No one did. “Mom, Lyric was sick. Really sick. And this woman’s deranged! She doesn’t

deserve this!” “No,” she agreed. “But that little boy does.” I wanted to stand up, but I couldn’t. I had to keep pressure on my leg. “Aunt Ag, don’t.” “I heal Ana first,” Aunt Agrippina added. Ms. Pritchard narrowed her eyes. “No.” “Then they both die.” I hoped to hell she was bluffing. Pain made it hard to think properly. There was a beat of charged silence. Ms.

Pritchard nodded her head once and Henry let Agrippina move, but he kept his gun on her. She crouched in front of me, smiling her nurse’s smile. “Let’s fix you up.” She sang a song and I watched the bullet force its way up and out of my leg. It was slow and awful, scraping at the raw flesh. The ragged hole in my leg fused together, leaving a dull ache and a scar. “I need my cloak,” Aunt Agrippina said, standing up. Someone brought it to her and she

wrapped it around her shoulders, the haunted look fading from her eyes for the first time since it had been stolen. She smiled slightly before turning to the bed. “If you come back here,” she said. “If you raise a hand against my people again, they can take this magic away again. Do you understand me?” Ms. Pritchard nodded, going pale. Aunt Agrippina was lying. Once magic like this was given, it was gone. But it served as a good threat. We sang with her, lending her what power we could.

The light gathered around her until she was a column of gold. It flowed down her arms like bright water, washing over Simon, pooling over his heart and his throat and pulsing like stars. The air was full ozone, the way it is before a storm. The wind whipped around the barn, tearing at everything in its path. Chairs scraped over the ground, tables toppled. It howled, shaking the bed until it floated up. Aunt Agrippina kept singing, even as the light burned her up. She collapsed in a pile of smoldering

feathers and blue wool. As soon as she hit the ground, the bed dropped. Simon sat up, looking confused. His voice was raspy as he pulled the breathing tube from his nose. “Mom?”

PIERCE I couldn’t really see what was happening. Except for Ana getting shot. I saw that perfectly. Her body flew back, landing in a spray of blood. My hands were raw from trying to break free. I didn’t stop until her aunt healed

her and she looked up, dazed but alive. When her aunt turned into a flash of light, she didn’t just save Simon, she gave her family a chance to save themselves. They sprang into action, kicking out at their captors even as Pritchard wheeled her son’s bed out of the way. Ana darted out of the fray toward me. Her hands were trembling as she grabbed the key ring to let me out. I wrapped my arms around her. Feathers filled my hands. I pulled back as her wings expanded. “Are you? When? Does that mean….”

She smiled wryly. “I guess it means I love you, dumbass.” There were more shots and the sound of angry singing. Someone threw Jackson into a wall. “And this is how you show it?” I asked. “Outright assault?” “Yes, I decided a sonnet was so impersonal.” I kissed her quickly because I couldn’t help myself. And because she looked nervous—more nervous than when Pritchard had aimed the gun at her. As if she was still worried that I truly didn’t

love her. “Don’t be stupid,” I murmured against her mouth. “No cupcake is that powerful. “Now let’s get everyone out of here.” We ducked behind the table, assessing the situation. “Pritchard got away.” Henry was helping Jackson to his feet. They grinned at each other wildly. “He’s gone,” I said. “My little brother is gone.” Ana winced. “Yes.” “He’s never going to stop now, is he?” “The magic made him forget he loved Rosalita, but that’s it. It twisted

something inside of him, I think. He was drinking, I wasn’t using my own arrows. It’s not an exact science.” “You need to shoot him again.” She turned her head to stare at me. “Because it went so well the first time?” “You have more magic now. And your own arrows.” “Pierce.” “How else do I save him from himself? And you from him? What’s the alternative? I let him turn into a murderer? Because he’s well on his way. Wipe him clean.”

She knew I was right. I could read it in her face. I plucked the last arrow from the quiver still strapped to her belt. “Make him forget all of this. Save him from himself. Please.” And then Jackson made the choice for us. He maneuvered himself behind Rosalita, a dagger in his hand. Ana’s arrow slammed into his shoulder and the knife jerked out of his hand. The arrowhead vanished in a wisp of light. I dove forward to catch him when he went limp.

ANA

I’d never been happier to see Liv and a bunch of her snarling fox-brothers in my life. Even when they were throwing punches at my head. Liv had managed to track me. I assumed Aunt Agrippina’s conflagration of magic had also acted as a beacon, no matter the supernatural deterrents that may have been put on the barn. They were followed by a flock of Vila who assumed they’d been running away. Aunt Aisha was in the lead, looking as feral as Morag. Ms. Pritchard had

already slipped out with Simon. Henry was gone, too. Swans and foxes shot through the space, ripping doors open and knocking down partitions. There were cages in the back full of snarling and red fur. I had no idea which were true foxes and which were Renards trapped in their totem shape. Empty cages full of feathers were in another room. We were free. And I still had wings. They poked through the back of my dress. Mei Lin let out a hysterical giggle, limping to my side. “Nice look. You

have to transform,” she said. “Quickly or you’ll get stuck.” The fight boiled around me, less like a true battle now and more like a bar brawl. It was mostly fistfights and bloody noses. But anything could spark it again. It could escalate before we made it to the other side of the barn. “Don’t you get it? We’re already stuck.” And I didn’t have a cloak anyway. Aunt Felicity floated through the melee as though it was happening in slow motion. She only had eyes for her

feather cloak, hanging by a hook on the wall. When she finally wrapped it around her shoulders, there were tears on her face. This was why she’d betrayed us. She caught my gaze. “I had to do it.” “You sold us out.” But I remembered vividly singing to Edward as I wished for my own cloak. “I had to save myself,” she said sadly. “I had to let them in so I could get out.” “You got rid of the Renard blood. That’s how they hid this place. And how the foxes found Cygnet House.”

She nodded and walked away, trailing feathers. I thought about following her but to do what? Yell? Punch her in the face? There was no time and it wouldn’t change anything. We were still in the middle of a battle. Ms. Pritchard had won. But we hadn’t lost. Not yet. I thought about my essay, about blood feuds that never ended. About duels and single combat and choosing another way. Sometimes that took more strength. “Seriously,” Mei Lin said. “Do you want to walk around with wings forever?”

“They’re kinda cute,” Pierce murmured. Just one last thing. Because my mother and Aunt Agrippina deserved better. We all did. I looked around until I saw a fire alarm set into the wall. Ms. Pritchard had been serious about protecting her son, outfitting the barn with security measures. Pierce had to hoist me on his back so I could reach it. I used the lighter I took from Jackson’s pocket and held the flame up to the alarm until it screeched, deafening us. I pressed my

ear into my shoulder and refused to move the flame until everyone had stopped fighting to gape at us. Pierce dropped me to my feet. “I demand the right of single combat.” Silence. A confused murmur. The alarm had stopped, but I still felt it in my ears. “This isn’t some fantasy movie,” Liv pointed out crossly. Good. “Single combat with you,” I clarified. “If you win, the Renards win.” “When I win.” I’d tweaked her

competitive streak. “If I win, the Vila win.” “Why bother?” Sonnet snapped. She was clutching her mother’s ruined cloak. “Because your mom gave herself up to save a boy she didn’t know. We can at least give ourselves up to save each other.” “Very poetic,” Pierce murmured. “But are you sure about this?” “This has to stop,” I continued loudly. “Now. And no one’s going to stop it for us. Only we can do that. Before someone else plays us for fools because we can’t

stop fighting long enough to pay attention.” I didn’t know how to read Liv’s expression. She’d brought the Renards here. I needed to believe it was for more than just continuing the fight. There had to be more to us than this. Even if the only thing we had in common had been wanting to save Pierce. It was something. A start. She stepped forward, chin lifted. “I agree.” Lawson shot forward. “Are you kidding? You know—”

She nudged him back hard enough that he almost tripped over his own foot. I stepped forward, swallowing nervously. I’d never fought with wings before. And I couldn’t help but seriously worry I’d be stuck like this forever. But I’d worry about that later. The others made a circle around us. Liv attacked first. She tried to head-butt me in the nose, but I shifted and our foreheads connected. I wondered if it was possible to break your eyebrow. I hurt all over; it was just one more ache. She attacked again and again.

I spun, but it was awkward with wings. I caught a draft and went too fast and missed my opportunity for a good strike. I blocked her next punch, but only barely. I willed her to stop, to understand me. She hit me in the eye again instead. I lurched back and nearly lost my footing. My wings caught me, stretching painfully but pulling me up out of a sprawl. Our families growled and hissed and snarled and made more animal sounds than they did when they wore their totem shape.

I caught Liv’s gaze and stepped back, lowering my fists. She tried to drop-kick me. I came out of the crouch, staring at her hard. I lowered my fists again. Her eyes darted to my loose hands. I widened my eyes pointedly. She paused. I nearly pumped my fist in joy, but it would probably be taken as an attack. I stepped back. Liv stepped back uncertainly. Our families looked at each other just as uncertainly. “You were going to let us beat each

other bloody,” I said. “You encouraged it. You never once encouraged us to stop. Just like you chose to continue the feud, to feed it. But this generation is ending it. Today. Right now.” I looked at Sonnet, still holding her mother’s cloak. “In Romeo and Juliet, they don’t stop the feud until their kids die. We’re not doing that. No one else dies.” I put out my hand, praying Liv would shake it. She finally did after Pierce cleared his throat. She squeezed harder than was necessary, but I ignored it. “We already have a treaty,” she said. “How

do you plan to enforce this pretty new peace of yours?” “Weregeld.” I could have kissed my stupid essay and all of the research that went into it. “Blood price. Whoever breaks the treaty pays a fine. An expensive one.” “We’ll be broke by next week,” Liv predicted. “But not broken.”

Chapter Fourteen ANA The swans came from everywhere. My aunts stood in a circle around the cabin, singing a song that had the wind chasing itself over the roof. It pounded at the shingles and they soothed it away. It

howled, trying to find its way inside the house, and they pulled it back like a naughty child. The song was soft but insistent, like water on the shore of a troubled lake. Aunt Aisha wrapped my blue cloak around my shoulders and all I could focus on was the length of my spine and how best to twist it around a pair of wings. My body scrambled to catch up but there were songs to be sung, ceremonies to perform. Tradition. Each of my aunts and the cousins who’d already shifted plucked one of

their own feathers for my new cloak. Aunt Aisha presented me with spools of white thread and long silver antique needles. “I don’t have any feathers,” I admitted. There was a hysterical edge to my voice. “I burned them.” Aunt Aisha went gray. “You did what?” “You said there were lots of ways to fly.” She didn’t look mad, just shocked enough to fall over. I had my aunts’ donated feathers in my hand. It wasn’t

enough. Not nearly. I’d done this to myself. “Ana.” She sat down hard on the garden wall. “No.” “We’ll find more,” one of my aunts declared. “There’s no time,” Aisha said. “Look at her.” “No one told me this could even happen,” I said in a small voice. I had wings for crying out loud. Actual wings. So much for graduating high school. “Because no one ever fights the swan so hard that it has to take over,” she

pointed out. “Except for you.” “No offense, but I’m not going to give up and let my girlfriend eat fish heads in the woods.” Morag hissed at that, but I barely heard her. Pierce. Pierce was here. Holding a basket of swan feathers. Mei Lin stood beside him, grinning. “I let him in,” she said. “He wouldn’t stop calling my cell.” He stepped closer to me, half smiling. “I have feathers for you.”

There was still blood on his hands and rips in his clothes from being locked in a cage. He didn’t seem to notice. “How did you even find this many?” I whispered. “I started collecting them the day you told me you burned your cloak feathers.” I swallowed, too many emotions clogging up my throat. He pushed the basket into my hands. “I ate your cupcakes,” he said. “And I still love you. I’ve always loved you.” It was as if there was something frozen inside me and now it was melting.

He loved me. After everything. I wasn’t too late, after all. I was very sure that I could fly now, even without wings. I’d never felt full of light like this before. Was I glowing, like you do when you hold your hand up to the sun? If I kissed him now, would brightness pour out of me? “Hurry,” Aisha interrupted. “Before the moon sets and it’s too late.” I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to wrap myself around Pierce and not let go. Instead, I sat on the floor of my

bedroom and sewed long white feathers to the blue cloak of my girlhood. It was soft and worn, the hem torn in one spot from catching on a thorn tree, a smear of Renard blood on the hood. The spines of the feathers were surprisingly strong. The needle caught, and I tugged hard and blood welled on my fingertips. I began to wrap them instead, adding beads and pendants from my jewelry box. I snipped and knotted and bled some more until I was left with a strange cloak of blue bristling with feathers over the shoulders and around the hood.

I finally had my swan cloak. And Pierce. The aunts were waiting for me outside. The sun had set and the fields trembled with crickets and mice and the solitary hunt of owls. Women in white dresses led me into the shadows, still singing. The pond behind the house glimmered with moonlight. I was aware of everything, the scratch of grass against my ankles, the smell of wood smoke from a far-off farm, the first star emerging. The water lapped at my toes. The

pond was meant to cushion my fall if I plummeted to my death. Aisha assured me that had never happened. I assured her I was developing a fear of heights. Swans drifted nearby, silent and serene. I didn’t know who they were, but I knew the black swan who took off, splashing us. Her wingspan was enormous, her feet skimming the water as she gained momentum. Aunt Sarafina had worked for a bird sanctuary once, gathering feathers from a black swan for her own cloak. The city sometimes released black swans now, too, and the

little cousins fought over the rare feathers. Aisha slipped a silver chain around my neck. “It’s family tradition that we are linked together. In the old stories, swan siblings are connected by silver chains.” I touched the clear quartz shaped like an arrowhead. “It’s easier if you don’t fight it,” Aisha added. “It’s instinct.” The cloak was heavy in my hands, quivering with feathers. I flung it over my shoulders the way I’d seen Sasha do

on the same night Jackson and Eric had found us. It was a lifetime ago. The cloak lightened as it settled over my shoulders, as if it was melting into me. I ran into the pond, alarm fluttering in the back of my throat. Needles pierced my back. My neck stretched. I was running into the water now and stumbled, but it was too late, something else already had hold of me. Nature, magic; call it what you will, it was stronger than I was. I opened my mouth, but it was a beak and I didn’t recognize the sound coming out of me. My wings

were heavy and I flapped them, but it just knocked me sideways. I heard Aisha sigh. “They always fight it.” My aunts were singing again, but it wasn’t soothing. I didn’t realize until later that they were controlling the winds to help me. I was still trapped in between Ana and the swan. I flapped with such alarm that I rose a few inches into the air. It was thrilling and just distracting enough that I let go and lifted higher. My neck stretched out impossibly long and impossibly straight, turning me

into a feathered arrow. Sarafina was on my right and Aisha dove into flight on my left. They kept me steady, nudging under my belly when I dipped too fast. The world was a beautiful dizzying spin of shadows and moonlight and a pull in my center that I knew would always keep me on course. Pierce was right. It was both biology and magic. Just like me. Liv and I owed each other so much money that first week that I seriously considered getting an after school job. But we tried.

And if we could do it, our families could do it. The Renards were embarrassed that Henry had taken part, that they had blamed us when he was attacking them for his own revenge. The Vila were ashamed that Aunt Felicity had betrayed us, hiding Henry and Pritchard and the barn from us all—just to get her cloak back. Henry had been the one to steal it in the first place, but she didn’t care. She had her wings now and she lived in her totem shape. She never came back to Cygnet House. Rosalita went through her

laptop and found receipts for seven blenders, three basinets, and eighteen lace tablecloths, as well as emails from Pritchard. My dad and the other fathers had managed to put out the fire before it ate too much of the house. The front windows were a mess and the porch was gone, as well as the front sitting room, but other than that the damage was mostly cosmetic. Jackson didn’t remember his part in all of this. He barely remembered anything after the age of twelve. He was

nicer, but the arrows had taken their toll. Pierce’s grandmother took Jackson to the doctor and after many tests they decided he’d had such a bad bout of flu that it had damaged him. He didn’t recognize Rosalita anymore. Or me. I didn’t know how long I flew in circles around the fields; I just knew I didn’t want it to end. Not until I saw the gleam of the pond and the glitter of the tokens hanging in our wish tree. And Pierce. He waited for me on the edge of the water, staring up into the sky. He’d

always waited for me. I flew over him once, just because I could. He smiled up at me as I navigated the currents, landing with a less than graceful splash. I stretched and shifted, feathers into flesh, swan into girl. I hesitated, pushing wet hair off my face. What if Pierce was weirded out? It was one thing to know about swans, another to see your girlfriend turn in and out of one. What if he was grossed out now? What if—? Also, I was naked. Well, I was wearing water. Same

thing. He was already striding through the waves I’d churned up as I reached for my wet cloak. He dragged me close and covered my mouth with his, tasting me, breathing me, until I hated any tiny space that came between us. His fingers brushed the back of my neck as our tongues tangled. Air was unnecessary; there was only Pierce. I might possibly die, but I’d die happy. He nibbled at my earlobe until I squirmed, breath catching. Laughing softly, he tugged gently with his teeth. A hot thrill went through me.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I returned, tracing the line of skin above his jeans. We were suddenly in the very best kind of competition. I wanted to see his eyes flare, wanted him to hear my sharp gasp when he dragged his tongue along the line of my throat. We were entering dangerous and delicious territory. I pulled back slightly. His wet shirt molded to his muscles. My feather cloak trailed behind me in the pond. He touched the tiny frown between my eyes. “Why so worried?” “I’m a swan now.”

“And?” He nibbled on the side of my jaw until my bones went soft. “And…I don’t know.” It was hard to make sense when he was kissing me like that. “Are you still Ana?” His tongue stroked into my mouth, teasing. “Of course.” The kiss went from languid to fiery again. “That’s all I care about.” He pulled me up against his chest when the water tried to slide between us. “That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”

Did you love this Entangled Teen Crave novel? Check out more of our titles here! And for exclusive sneak peeks at our upcoming books, excerpts, contests, chats with our authors and editors, and more… Be sure to like us on Facebook Join the Teen Book Club

Follow us on Twitter And follow us on Instagram

Acknowledgments Thank yous and chocolate kisses to everyone who helped make this book better: editors extraordinaire Stacy and Lydia, and the copyeditors (who share my pet peeve of repetition!) and cover artists and publicists behind the scenes

at Entangled who I’ve never met but adore. And my agent Marlene Stringer, who I’ve never technically met in person either, but also adore.

About the Author Alyxandra Harvey lives in an old stone house in Ontario, Canada with her husband, their dogs, and a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She likes gingerbread lattes, tattoos, and books.

Sign up for our Teen newsletter and be the first to hear about new releases from Alyxandra Harvey and other fantastic Entangled authors! Reviews help other readers find books. We appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative. Thank you for reading!

Also by Alyxandra Harvey…

RED Kia Alcott can start fires simply by thinking about them. But after her latest “episode,” Kia is shipped off to her grandmother, who works for the wealthy Blackwoods. It’s an estate shrouded in secrets, surrounded by rules, and presided over by a family that is far from normal—including the gorgeous and insolent Ethan Blackwood. But Ethan isn’t exactly who Kia thinks he is. And even the most vibrant shade of red doesn’t stand a chance against the dark secrets of the Blackwood family…

Discover more of Entangled Teen Crave’s books…

TOUCHING FATE a Fated novel by Brenda Drake Aster Layne believes in physics, not psychics. A tarot card reading on the Ocean City Boardwalk should have been a ridiculous, justfor-fun thing. It wasn’t. Instead, Aster discovers that she has a very unscientific gift—with a simple touch of the cards, she can change a person’s fate. When she meets hot Dutch royal Reese Van Buren, Aster doesn’t know he’s cursed and about to die. And she doesn’t know her new gift comes with dark, dark consequences that can harm everyone she loves.

JANE UNWRAPPED

a novel by Leah and Kate Rooper Mummification was not the kind of experiment teen scientist Jane thought she’d be conducting. Now’s she’s trapped in the Egyptian underworld. Worse, the snarky (but outrageously handsome) god Anubis has sworn to devour her soul unless she can go back in time and steal the heart of King Tutankhamen. Stalked by Anubis (who can’t seem to decide whether to kiss her or kill her) Jane must either steal Tut’s heart, or find a way to save them both…even if it means disobeying all the gods of Egypt.