Gabriel and the Swallows (The Volatile Duology #1)

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Authors: Esther Dalseno
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because he saved your life.”
    I laughed. “You’re strange.”
    “Perhaps. But I’m not half human and half bird.”
    “Then what are you?”
    “I am a human with bird tendencies when I am with you. And I am a bird with human tendencies when I am with them.”
    “You’re weird. What did you do with Mariko?”
    “I prevented her from coming.”
    Rage began to boil within my chest. “Why did you do that? Who do you think you are?”
    The woman frowned darkly and suddenly, the moon was leached of its light. “I am someone, who in this world, has power over it,” she said cryptically. “I know all about your dreams. And before tonight, I never wished to enter them.” And she spread her wings and flew away.
     

     
    The next morning, I awoke, filled with fear and wonder. It was early and Mamma was still in bed. I marched into the kitchen and Volatile’s head surged up at my entrance from her cot near the open window. Something inside of me jumped when I recalled her face from the night before – lovely. But old. Not like her at all, and it was uncanny how I was filled with a creeping dread, like my childish heart already recognized the undoing of me. And I hated it. I sensed my own destruction and I hated it.
    “Why did you do it?” I hissed, and grabbed her forearm too tightly. “I know you did something last night. Who are you?”
    But Volatile wrenched her arm away and dropped her gaze. I felt foolish then because how could she be responsible for anything? She was just a little girl with birds’ wings, not a magical being. “If you did do something,” I whispered, as a precaution, “don’t do it again. Stay out of my dreams. I’m warning you.”
    Volatile’s wings shuddered a little and she began to desperately gaze out the window at the sky. I began to feel guilty for scaring her, and remembered how distorted the Volatile I met last night was, and doubted myself. “I guess I’m the idiot here,” I confessed mournfully. “I’m standing here talking to a struck-dumb bird-girl who doesn’t even know her own name.”
    Volatile looked at me out of the corner of her eye. She took a sharp intake of breath, and stood up poised for flight, her wings spread out like a speckled cape. “ You’re an enormous idiot ,” snapped Volatile in a clear, clipped voice I recalled from the night before, “and I don’t know why I bother with you! I won’t meddle with your dreams again.”
    And she soared out the window, completely ignoring my open mouth that was undoubtedly hanging to the floor, and I wondered how I was going to explain this to Mamma.

 
     
     
     
     
    L ike a child whose guilt grows like a monster in the dark and eventually paralyzes him, so the incentives of Volatile’s departure consumed me. I decided not to say a word about it, knowing my parents would immediately interrogate me, and I was the world’s most transparent liar. How on earth was I going to explain this to them? “Sorry Mamma and Papa, but I told Volatile all about my secret dream life where you two are better versions of yourselves, and she appeared in it. So I got angry and she flew away. By the way, she can speak Italian. But on the plus side, it looks like her wing is fully healed.” Unlikely. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to Zeus that Volatile would return and all would be forgotten.
    “Where is she?” queried Mamma, who got out of bed shortly after Volatile had flew away. She scanned the fields from the open window. “She knows not to go outside during the day.”
    “I don’t know!” I squeaked, pouring myself an extra-large glass of milk, which I glugged down whole.
    Mamma began to search the closets and the bedrooms. When she returned to the kitchen, her brow was creased into three horizontal lines. “You haven’t seen her, Gabriel? Was she not in her cot when you got up?”
    “No,” I stammered, and threw a huge chunk of cheese in my mouth, and began busying myself with rearranging the jars of

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