dangling outside. When she looked back, she didn’t smile. “On the morrow, Filo.”
A second la ter, in a whirl of crisp air , she became a hooded crow and dropped off the sill and into the darkness. Filo hurried to the window and closed it, rubbing his arms to warm them.
He moved his hand in a wide arc, extinguishin g candles that burned atop towering stacks of books or on the ends of shelves. When the room was dark, with only a blend of streetlamps and moonli ght shining through the window, he gathered a few blankets and ma de himself a pallet beside the bed . The floor was cold beneath him, but he fell asleep all the same.
* * *
Lee was falling.
Her throat ached from the screaming, but she heard nothing but wind raging in her ears. She was falling to her death, tumblin g helplessly through empty space . Her whole body was cold and aching with a nameless fear.
Darkness rushed over her skin like ice water . S he shut he r eyes against the glaring void , but there was no difference . This isn’t real. She thought firmly that, any moment now, she would wake in the warmth and safety of her own bed.
But her body felt like it was coming apart, crumbli ng like clay , and she was still fallin g.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real realreal …
* * *
And then, abruptly, it was morning. Brilliant shards of sunlight streamed through the window, cutting into her eyes. Lee stumbled out of a bed she didn’t remember climbing into, nearly tripping over the pile o f rumpled blankets on the floor.
There was a dress on her . The thin, gauzy material moved around her legs like blue mist as she staggered into a small, grimy bathroom. It puddled around her as she knelt down beside the toilet and vomited.
She wore a sweater, t oo, pulled over the dress. Brown and wrinkled and didn’t fit. Socks on her feet, and her own red sneakers, but they were dirty and torn at the sides. Frayed laces. She wasn’t sure how long she stared down at herself . Moments and days seemed very similar.
There was some kind of commotion going on in the other room. Lee gathered herself up, crawled shakily to the bathroom door , and peered out.
A tall boy dressed in old jeans, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved burgundy shirt stood by the bed. He had wavy, dark blond hair. Beside him was a slightly smaller, dark-haired boy in a T-shirt and jeans. The blond was speaking, and when she listened, she understood the words.
“Where is she, Filo?”
“ Who cares? I doubt she’s gotten far,” the dark-haired boy, Filo, dr awled. “She was asleep when I got up, and she couldn’t have gotten out. She’s around here somewhere.”
“If anything’s happened to her—”
On the far side of the room, a door opened and a woman glided through , her footsteps silent . Her body was long and wiry, her skin fair . Thick black hair swayed ar ound her hips. She wore loose-fitting black trousers and an ash-gray top with slits in the shoulders to accommodate her huge black wings. Lee’s breath caught in her throat, more in fear than awe.
The blond boy froze when the woman entered the room. Lee recognized fear on his face , because she felt it, too . His whole body seized up with terror as he spun to face the dark woman.
“ Neman .” His voice was dry; it cracked like old leaves.
“Nasser,” the woman cooed, a thin smile on her face. She stretched her wings slightly, throwing twin shadows on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you, Nasser. You can believe that. It would spoil the morning’s entertainment.” She had an Irish accent.
Turning, Neman caught sight of Lee. Their eyes met. Neman was so beautiful that Lee winced and looked away. Then Neman redirected the boy s’ attention with a nod of her head.
Profound relief spread across Nasser’s fea tures.
“I told you I didn’t let anything happen,” Filo spat.
“Right,” Nasser agreed vaguely. “Sorry.”
Nasse r approached Lee, and she realized she was
A second la ter, in a whirl of crisp air , she became a hooded crow and dropped off the sill and into the darkness. Filo hurried to the window and closed it, rubbing his arms to warm them.
He moved his hand in a wide arc, extinguishin g candles that burned atop towering stacks of books or on the ends of shelves. When the room was dark, with only a blend of streetlamps and moonli ght shining through the window, he gathered a few blankets and ma de himself a pallet beside the bed . The floor was cold beneath him, but he fell asleep all the same.
* * *
Lee was falling.
Her throat ached from the screaming, but she heard nothing but wind raging in her ears. She was falling to her death, tumblin g helplessly through empty space . Her whole body was cold and aching with a nameless fear.
Darkness rushed over her skin like ice water . S he shut he r eyes against the glaring void , but there was no difference . This isn’t real. She thought firmly that, any moment now, she would wake in the warmth and safety of her own bed.
But her body felt like it was coming apart, crumbli ng like clay , and she was still fallin g.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real realreal …
* * *
And then, abruptly, it was morning. Brilliant shards of sunlight streamed through the window, cutting into her eyes. Lee stumbled out of a bed she didn’t remember climbing into, nearly tripping over the pile o f rumpled blankets on the floor.
There was a dress on her . The thin, gauzy material moved around her legs like blue mist as she staggered into a small, grimy bathroom. It puddled around her as she knelt down beside the toilet and vomited.
She wore a sweater, t oo, pulled over the dress. Brown and wrinkled and didn’t fit. Socks on her feet, and her own red sneakers, but they were dirty and torn at the sides. Frayed laces. She wasn’t sure how long she stared down at herself . Moments and days seemed very similar.
There was some kind of commotion going on in the other room. Lee gathered herself up, crawled shakily to the bathroom door , and peered out.
A tall boy dressed in old jeans, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved burgundy shirt stood by the bed. He had wavy, dark blond hair. Beside him was a slightly smaller, dark-haired boy in a T-shirt and jeans. The blond was speaking, and when she listened, she understood the words.
“Where is she, Filo?”
“ Who cares? I doubt she’s gotten far,” the dark-haired boy, Filo, dr awled. “She was asleep when I got up, and she couldn’t have gotten out. She’s around here somewhere.”
“If anything’s happened to her—”
On the far side of the room, a door opened and a woman glided through , her footsteps silent . Her body was long and wiry, her skin fair . Thick black hair swayed ar ound her hips. She wore loose-fitting black trousers and an ash-gray top with slits in the shoulders to accommodate her huge black wings. Lee’s breath caught in her throat, more in fear than awe.
The blond boy froze when the woman entered the room. Lee recognized fear on his face , because she felt it, too . His whole body seized up with terror as he spun to face the dark woman.
“ Neman .” His voice was dry; it cracked like old leaves.
“Nasser,” the woman cooed, a thin smile on her face. She stretched her wings slightly, throwing twin shadows on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you, Nasser. You can believe that. It would spoil the morning’s entertainment.” She had an Irish accent.
Turning, Neman caught sight of Lee. Their eyes met. Neman was so beautiful that Lee winced and looked away. Then Neman redirected the boy s’ attention with a nod of her head.
Profound relief spread across Nasser’s fea tures.
“I told you I didn’t let anything happen,” Filo spat.
“Right,” Nasser agreed vaguely. “Sorry.”
Nasse r approached Lee, and she realized she was
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