by Melle Amade
“I know,” I say. It’s going to be my silent rebellion to the Order. Just like my dad. “Didn’t you suspect I would be one, Dad? If you knew Mom was one and you were one, you must have expected I would be one, too. Me and Henry.”
Dad is on his haunches carefully lining up sticks around the tiny fire. He doesn’t say anything for a minute as he carefully places another stick. “We lived in a very small group and only dealt with what was in front of us. When Karin left, the adults spent all their energy trying to find her. They didn’t train us in anything. So, all I know is from when I was sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen. I was just enjoying being free. Flying. Jimmy and I would spend weeks ranging the desert. The last thing on my mind was what would happen if I had a sixteen-year-old daughter.”
“But didn’t you wonder?”
“I saw your anger and rage like your mother’s, but I watched your friends and I thought it would be okay. I heard you were a raven and I thought that was best. I thought doves would die out with me.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to give him a big hug right then but I don’t move. My knees are pulled up in front of me, my arms wrapped around them as I stare at the fire. “We can only move forward with the things that we know, I guess.”
“I should’ve been open,” Dad says. “But I wasn’t. This isn’t going to make it right, but it might help.”
Dad opens the long black bag that’s been slung over his shoulder. It looks like it has a fishing rod in it or something. “I’m pretty bad at this, but I’m going to give it a shot.” He pulling out a something that looks like a long, thick, straight branch of a tree, only it’s covered in intricate patterns of painted dots.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“My didj.” He holds it up. “Didgeridoo. See, it’s hollow.”
“I’ve never seen it.” I stretch my fingers out to touch the wooden tube.
Dad swats my hand. “You’re not allowed to touch it.”
“It’s beautiful.” It’s splattered in red ochre and mustard dots of paint that travel around the musical instrument. Nestled in between all the dots are small prints of animals.
“These dots”—Dad runs his finger over the small bumps of paint— “are an aerial view of the desert. The different colors are the different oxides in the soil, iron, and sulfate.”
“What are the animal prints?” I ask.
“The songlines,” Dad says. “The paths that connect the events of the Dreamtime. There’s a song that goes along with this painting, and it talks about what happened here—his finger traces a circle of dots at one end of the didj— “and what happened here.” His finger moves up the didj until it gets to the top and another circle of dots.
“So, what, it’s like a map?” I ask.
Dad peers at me through his shaggy blond hair. “That’s exactly what it is.”
“What does it lead to?” I ask.
Dad shrugs. “This was Clifford’s didj. The lawyer gave it to me with the tapestry.”
“I’ve never seen it,” I say.
“That’s right,” Dad says. He presses his mouth against the narrower end and blows through the tube.
I jump as it lets out a squawk that echoes in the small space.
He pulls his mouth away, gives a slight smile, and takes another deep breath. “Haven’t done this since I was a kid.”
It takes him about forty-five tries of blowing squawks and raspberries out of the didj, but finally he gets it. His cheek puffs out to one side as he presses his face hard against the long hollow tube, and his breath moves in rhythmic circles from his mouth and out through the didgeridoo. A low vibration comes out and goes into the earth. It travels under the fire, heats up, and then comes up through me. The warm vibration rises through me and circulates inside my body.
I sit quietly and stare at the fire, enjoying the tingling sensation. It grows stronger and stronger as each particle moves and dances to the sound of the didj. Every particle separates to the warm rich tone as if each cell has come to life and is dancing with itself. The sound of the didj infiltrates every part of me and vibrates under my skin. I stare out at horizon where the sky turns pale blue, like spring water. Deep orange-red rises to greet it, exactly how the warmth of the fire feels like it’s rising in me. But now, the fire is an afterthought to the sunrise that is starting to blaze the sky.
Dad holds the didj with one hand, but with his other, he empties the contents of a vial into the fire. The air fills with the sweet scent of eucalyptus, tea tree, and pine. The rhythm of the didj grows faster and faster, meeting me and bringing my heart forward. It draws my hands up so they levitate in the air, as if floating on the music. In the same way, the ice moves through my body when I’m angry, now there’s a deep water rushing through me from the core of my body. It’s balancing me out and driving deep within.
In my cells.
The ice energy that I thought was anger, but now I know is the raven. These particles vibrate against each other. They don’t mingle.
They dance.
It’s like a spiral. My gaze fixes on the small dots on the didj, which seem to dance, too, like all the cells of my body.
Small dots of exactly who I am.
I pick up the bush knife that dad laid down on the rock. I cut my finger, squeeze blood out, and drop it onto the fire. Exactly as the sun bursts into the sky, a large red orb rising over all the earth.
I raise my hands to the sky as the pitch of the didj escalates and echoes. It must be shaking all of Topanga, or maybe it’s just me and the echo inside this confined space.
“I am dove!” I cry to the sunrise. “I am raven!” I claim both for myself. I will create who I am. “I am dove and raven! I am raven and dove!”
I don’t say it to make it true. I say it because it is true. I call it out to the universe because I have seen the particles of myself dancing with each other, and I know exactly who I am.
19
Every part of me radiates. The glow is so intense it stings on the edges, but in a good way. I can’t hold onto it any longer. I groan as my body shifts and I rise into the morning sky cooing and tingling and breathing with my mouth open, hovering over low over the fire. Nothing hurts. Nothing bleeds.
Elation fills me as I gaze down at the fire and my father who is still playing the didj, but his eyes are full of wonder as he looks up at me.
I float to the ground and shift back to my human form, but I need to test it out. I want to know. From deep inside me I reach for the ice and it’s there also. Ready and waiting. The didj is still moving the cells of my body in a beautiful spiral dance. The ice crackles over me and I leap into the air, shifting effortlessly into a raven.
This time I fly high, cawing at the sunrise.
I circle over my father a few times, tilt my head and shoot off towards morning training. The didj lets out a series of deep low notes before descending into silence.
The Ravensgaard are all ready training when I get there. The drills and rounds are in full combat and I am ready. Finally, I feel strong, fully formed and complete. I dive bomb at Iona, skimming across the top of her head.
That caught her attention. She flies into the air after me and I give her a fast chase before turning and taking her head on. We duck and weave and spar in the air, each trying to get a handle on the other. There’s no way I can catch her back, she’s too fast. And there’s no way I can take her neck, she’s too agile. But, I have an idea.
I fly away from her, knowing she’ll give chase. Instead of trying to flip around and get behind her. I make a sharp turn in the air and let our wings smash into each other. As they do, I slip mine under hers and use it like an arm to flip her over. She’s startled and this is all the chance I need. With a burst of energy from my wings I launch myself through the air at her and dig my talons into her chest. Her wings flail in the air, but mine beat down and I pull her into a nose dive. Her claws try to dig into me, but I’m too far forward on her, she’s grasping at the air. In seconds, I am bulle
ting through the air, aiming at the ground. At the last moment, I slow down shifting as I go and pushing her into a gentle roll on the earth. She shifts as she rolls and lands against Shanahan’s mammoth legs.
The Ravensgaard stare at me, wide-eyed and silent.
I lean forward, bracing my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. My body vibrates with energy and I can’t keep the glowing smile off my face.
Shanahan’s slow and rhythmic clapping starts a steady beat on the silent field. It takes a moment as others glance at Iona, but their steady applause joins Shanahan’s.
“Not bad,” Callum smiles and comes towards me.
“I have a lot of work to do,” I say. “But I’ve been wanting to do that.”
“I need you to do something else for me this morning,” Callum says.
“Right,” I give him a sideways glance. “This is when I have to do whatever it is you tell me to do.”
He laughs. “This one isn’t hard. I just want you to go and check on Aiden. His dad wasn’t well last night and I think he might need some support.”
“Of course,” I nod. “But, hey, if you’re afraid to spar with me, you can just say so.”
“Oh, I’m going to spar with you.” His laughter is rich and warm. “But next time I’m not going to go easy on you like I did before.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” I grin, springing into the air and shifting into a raven, I head to the manor.
I find Aiden in his mother’s drawing room. It amazes me that I’m starting to be comfortable and know my way around the manor. He’s sitting across from his father as I walk in the room. I can see Lord Van Arend’s sickness in the pale gray of his skin. Whatever his dad was saying is suddenly cut off, but it’s not because I entered. There’s a great heaving of Lord Van Arend’s stomach.
“Dad?” Aiden leans towards him, but Lord Van Arend holds up a hand, waving his son back. With a great retching sound like thunder from an abyss, Lord Van Arend pukes all over the floor. “Dad!” Aiden cries, clapping his hands loudly as he moves forward to hold his dad up.
He grabs Lord Van Arend around the shoulders and moves him away to the other side of the couch. Aiden’s fingers carefully reach into his dad’s pocket for a handkerchief, which he uses to wipe his dad’s mouth.
Balthazar enters, his gray bushy hair poking out the sides of his head while the bald top reflects the light in the room. Behind him follows another one of the servants. They must be on standby with Lord Van Arend’s illness. They rush to Aiden’s side, steadying Lord Van Arend.
“I’ll send someone to clean that up, Heir,” Balthazar says.
“Don’t worry about that. Just take care of my dad.” Anxiety runs through Aiden’s voice making each word come out sharp.
“Of course, my lord,” Balthazar says.
Lord Van Arend groans as Balthazar and the other servant slip their arms under his shoulder and lift him away from the couch.
“Take him to his room, shower him off, and give him some of the medicine that Zaragoza left,” Aiden says. “I’ll check on him shortly.”
“Yes,” Balthazar says.
“And Balthazar—Aiden brushes the hair back from his father’s face— “be careful with him, please.”
And for a moment, in the way Aiden touches his father’s face, I get a glimpse of the woman in the painting in the study, Aiden’s mother, who must’ve been so kind and gentle and taken such good care of Lord Van Arend. What a great loss to him when she died. And now, Aiden needs his dad. He needs him to be alive and well, but without Zaragoza I don’t know how that’s going to happen.
Aiden stares out the door at them. “What are we going to do?” he murmurs, his chin dropping in defeat.
My hand presses against Aiden’s back. I want to tell him that it’s going to be okay, but I have no idea if it will be. Aiden bows his head and turns towards me. I hold him as his body trembles under the pressure of his father’s illness. He buries his face in my neck and I press my cheek against his as I rub his back. A moan escapes his lips as he turns his face and his lips find mine. He presses against me as tenderness surges between us. I don’t kiss him back, but I don’t pull away.
Zan enters the room. “You.”
I think it’s the worst word I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
“You.” Her eyes narrow, full of betrayal. She draws gasping breaths.
“You were supposed to be there for me,” she growls. “And all this time—”
“No,” I say. “Not all this time. There’s nothing going on between me and Aiden.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Zan says. “I know what I just saw.”
“His dad’s sick,” I say. “I was just comforting him.”
“What is wrong with you?” Zan asks. “All we’ve ever done is work to protect you to help you. Even when we found out you were a Passief.” She practically spits out the word.
I dig my nails into my palms to stop from slapping her face. How dare she insult my heritage. “Me? Why is it all about me?” The raven blood runs like ice in my veins. “What the hell? He’s your boyfriend. Shouldn’t he be the one you’re upset with? Shouldn’t he be the one that is faithful?”
“You’re my best friend. You were, at least.” Her hand moves in the air like she’s throwing our friendship to the ground. You were the one I told everything to. You know how much this was bothering me. You know I knew something was going on. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Zan, there’s nothing going on between Aiden and me.”
“Then what did I just see?” Zan asks. “I know you’ve always had a thing for her, Aiden. Ever since we were in kindergarten.”
Electricity sparks through me, but I shut it down. Kindergarten crushes don’t count at moments like this. This is real.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” Aiden says.
“How can you even say that?” Zan asks.
“Because I, unlike the rest of you, seem to be the only one still living in reality.” Aiden’s lips are pressed tight against each other and a muscle twitches in his chin. He looks like he’s about to explode. “I’m the one who actually understands that we are members of Muiderkring West and that when my father passes, I will sit on the high seat. We answer to the Order led by El Oso and the Berzerkens.”
“These aren’t things we forget,” Zan hisses.
“You’re still trying to live in some fairytale land where you and I can actually have a real relationship.” What’s he talking about? Why is he being so cruel? “And Shae…” He turns on me, and I steel myself for a strike. “Shae, you’re so sweet and innocent, and I wish I could be like that. Yeah, I’m drawn to her, Zan. But it’s not what you think. It’s because for some reason when I’m with Shae, I can forget all of this. When I’m with her, I feel normal. I feel like a human. I feel like one of those kids in class before we ever found out that we were shifters and had all of this responsibility and pain and trouble.”
In a flash, I see those moments. Playing tag on the playground, sharing jokes in the Sanctuary, watching movies and eating popcorn. Those moments when our lives were normal. Their human life ended much sooner than mine did. I only found out we were shifters a few weeks ago. These guys have been living under the pressure for years.
“So do I seek that out?” Aiden continues. “Yeah. Do I sometimes cross boundaries that I shouldn’t cross? Yeah. Am I sorry about that? No, Zan, I’m not. And if you were the Heir, if you had to walk in my shoes, maybe you would understand me better.”
“You are kidding me,” Zan growls. “You are playing the poor little rich boy card? Sad you’re the chosen one? The Heir? That’s all it’s ever about for you. You need to get off your High Seat for just one instant and realize that there is real life going on around you. There are real feelings. But you’re too caught up in yourself, too self-absorbed. So now you’re dragging Shae into it, and you have no idea if she even has real feelings for you or not. You don’t even recognize that I do have real fe
elings for you. You’re just lashing out wherever you can, grabbing whatever you can with absolutely no concern for the real people around you. You are so caught up protecting your High Seat, protecting your family, and protecting your manor…you don’t even realize it’s destroying your friends.”
Aiden’s face burns under her onslaught. He’s going to open his mouth and destroy whatever is left of their relationship.
“Zan. Aiden.” I jump in. “I’m okay.”
But Zan whirls on me like a badger. “Well that’s just great,” she says. “I’m totally glad you’re okay. But you know what? I’m not, and do you know who else is not okay? Zaragoza. He’s dead. And he’s dead, Shae, because of you.”
“That wasn’t her fault.” Aiden’s voice is like a razor.
But her words crush any hope I had that we might save our friendship.
“Zaragoza made his own choices,” I say coldly. “He was around a lot longer than any of us have been.”
“You killed him,” Zan says.
“You’re out of line.” Aiden steps towards Zan as she bares her teeth.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Zan says. “Are you making new laws? I can’t speak my feelings now? Because you’re the Heir? Well, it’s not gonna stop me, Aiden. I’ve always told you how I feel, and I’m going to keep telling you how I feel, and if you don’t like it, then pass some rule with your friend El Oso to stop it, or get me transferred to some different part of the Muiderkring.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Zan,” Aiden says. “You know your family is too valuable to my dad.”
“We’re not slaves,” Zan says. But there’s a hollowness in her words.
“You have to fulfill your assignment,” Aiden says.
They may not be slaves, but they are tied to where they are told to go.
“From this moment forward, we are nothing.” Zan spits the words at Aiden before she whirls on me. “And that goes for us, too.”
“Fine, Zan. We both always knew it had to end,” Aiden says. “But it doesn’t have to end like this.”
