The Girl Who Called The Stars (The Starlight Duology Book 1)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Peter was right. The monsters hunting us weren’t going to stop looking. And if they ever found us, they wouldn’t show me mercy like Peter had this morning. I had to stop holding back so we could both see what I was truly capable of. Someday, my power was going to be the only thing standing between me and a dark ruler who had stolen my throne. If I ever wanted a life of my own—more importantly, if I ever wanted to go home—I needed to hone that power into a weapon capable of defeating the monsters that stood in my way. And that wouldn’t happen until I could take down Peter. I only hoped I didn’t kill him in the process.

  Three hours later, the tips of Peter’s hair had been singed off, his shirt had gone up in flames, and he was limping with the after-effects of a third-degree burn on his ankle—and I was exhausted.

  I practically crawled up the steps from the cellar and squinted into the midday sunlight. “You did well today,” Peter said with way too much pep for someone who’d nearly died.

  I cut him a look that conveyed my lack of agreement.

  “Here.” He handed me a bottled water.

  I took it and downed nearly half before coming up for air. When I did, Peter was studying me. “What?” I asked between shallow breaths.

  His forehead creased with a look of concern I knew all too well. “You’re holding back,” he said.

  “Peter.” My shoulders slumped. I didn’t want to rehash this.

  “Tell me why.”

  I sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’ll live,” he said. He meant it. We both knew that despite our very human-like appearance, our insides were very different from theirs. Thanks to a speedy metabolism, we healed fast. Already, the burnt ends of Peter’s hair looked better. And the fact that he was merely limping from the wound on his ankle and not howling in pain or fainting from shock was more proof that his body could handle it. Still…

  I scowled. “That’s not the point.”

  Peter continued to study me, but judging from the glazed look in his eyes I knew his thoughts were far away now. Worrying, probably.

  “Let’s take the rest of the day off. Rest. Go for a ride. Clear your head.” His eyes narrowed as he sharpened his gaze. “Let go of whatever it is that’s holding you back. I’ll take the trailer with me to work tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll train with cadavers.”

  “No way,” I groaned. “Remember last time? I had nightmares for weeks.”

  “Alina, you’ve been having nightmares since San Diego,” he said. And even though his words were gentle, I flinched. “I want you to see that you have what it takes to beat them.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “You do.” He nodded at the water I held and said, “Drink up. Enjoy your day off. I’ll see you for dinner.”

  I watched as he turned and headed for the house.

  It took me all of two seconds to decide what to do with my day off. With the increase in training, Nightingale, my horse, probably wondered if I’d abandoned her.

  I was halfway to the barn when my phone rang.

  “Hey,” I answered, cheerful and slightly guarded. That was pretty much standard behavior for me anytime Kate called.

  “Hey, stranger,” Kate sang back to me, but there was no accusation in the words. Or not much, anyway. “Tell me something good because I just left a christening for, swear to God, the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen and I’m a little ashamed he came from my gene pool. I might not have children.”

  I laughed. “Your cousin’s, right?”

  “Ugh. Yes. Alina, for real, he looks like E.T. with those knobby little fingers. It’s disconcerting.”

  I snorted. Kate was the only person my age who would even use a word like “disconcerting” in a sentence—especially when the sentence also involved ugly babies and extra-terrestrials.

  “And what’s wrong with E.T.?” My words were obviously a joke but my heart thudded hard against my rib cage. Kate had no idea what I was.

  “Nothing at all if you like that gnarled branchy look. I like my aliens hot. Like Kyle XY.”

  “Ewww, he doesn’t even have a belly button. That’s creepy,” I said.

  Kate laughed. “See I knew you’d make me feel better.”

  I felt a ridiculous satisfaction wash over me at her words.

  “So,” Kate said, drawing out the word. “I haven’t heard from you in forever. What did you do last weekend?”

  My guard went up instantly.

  Kate usually let my flakiness slide. Her social life was busy enough she rarely noticed when I had to say no to something Peter thought was too dangerous. When she did call me on it, her easy personality usually let me off the hook. But I hadn’t failed to notice she didn’t call me to hang out quite as often lately. Having a human friend had been a lot harder than I’d hoped. A fact I had yet to admit to Peter since he’d probably just offer an “I told you so.”

  Homeschooling had made it harder too—a new venture for us thanks to a sketchy run-in with the school nurse last year when my scorching skin had been mistaken for heat exhaustion. Without school to connect us, Kate had begun to notice more and more when I constantly bailed or turned down her invitations.

  “Oh, I worked out a lot and then did some home improvement stuff with Peter,” I answered, carefully. It wasn’t a lie, really. My trainings were definitely a workout and as long as I kept losing, the manual labor projects kept coming.

  “Ugh, Peter takes those DIY shows to a new level, doesn’t he?”

  “You have no idea,” I said.

  “Did you ask him about the town homecoming next Saturday?”

  “Yeah, he said it's fine as long as I’m home by eleven.” I didn’t really care about homecoming or the parade, but Kate did—right along with every other human girl my age—so I tried to sound excited.

  Blend in.

  It was all I did. All I’d ever done.

  And it sucked.

  “Home by eleven? You’re going to miss the end of the parade.”

  “Yeah, I know, sorry,” I said, wincing.

  “Well, at least he’s actually letting you go,” she said. Then her tone changed to one of uncertainty. “Hey, you know, Ethan Lawson asked about you again the other day.”

  “That’s nice,” I answered, already dismissing what was obviously a matchmaking attempt on her part.

  While Kate rattled on about Ethan, I kept my phone pressed to my ear and stared out over the valley that stretched to my right. It wasn’t that I didn’t like guys, I just knew I shouldn’t—or couldn’t—like the guys this planet offered. Best-case scenario, I’d have to leave them someday. Worst case, they’d find out what I really was and expose me.

  A pair of eyes flashed in my mind.

  Blue. They were always blue. Set in a face that was too fuzzy at the edges and blurred from the haze of my dreams for me to make out much else. The only details I could make out were a strong, masculine jawline—and the eyes. Blue as the ocean and just as deep—full of hidden truths under their surface.

  I had no idea who he was or if he was even real. He lived only in my head—which probably made me crazy, but in all reality, seeing a stranger’s face in my dreams was the least of my problems.

  “Besides Alina, he’s cute and he’s nice and he likes you,” Kate was saying when I tuned back in.

  “Sorry, Kate, I’m not interested. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Kate made a sound that suggested I’d lost my mind. “Alina, I’ve been dating Nick for almost a year now. You know that.”

  “Right. Of course,” I mumbled. Yep, I was officially a shitty friend. “Even if I wanted to say yes to Ethan, you know Peter would flip.”

  “Peter’s going to have to deal with it, eventually. You’re not a little kid anymore. You’ll be a senior in a couple of weeks.”

  I gave a short laugh—mostly to lighten the mood. “You sound like you’re writing the speech for my teenaged rebellion.”

  “Maybe I am,” she said. “Feel free to use it if needed.” />
  I suppressed a shudder because Kate really had no idea just what kind of rebellion I was poised to wage someday—and it had nothing to do with crushes on boys. Or parades, sadly. I really did love parades.

  “Look, I know you’re not that social, Alina, but you’re going to have to learn to trust people, eventually.”

  “It’s not that easy for me,” I said quietly. Anti-social was one thing. Being in the alien equivalent of witness-protection was another. But I couldn’t tell Kate that.

  “You trusted me and look how well that turned out,” Kate said.

  Guilt churned in my stomach as I thought of how little I actually trusted her with, and she definitely knew it. For the millionth time, I wished I could just tell her. But if I did, Peter really would flip. Not to mention the danger it would put her in if they ever found me.

  My mind filled with blurry images of black-robed monsters, and I shuddered. I’d only seen a Shadow once up close, but even that was enough to give me a healthy dose of fear, a constant reminder as to why we had to live in hiding.

  I blinked to clear away the dark images and realized the line had gone silent. Kate was waiting on a reply. “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I finally put in.

  “Do that,” was all she said.

  We said our goodbyes, and I went to saddle Nightingale.

  She’s not going to let me keep blowing her off like this, I thought.

  I felt Nightingale’s burst of impatience, which meant she’d been listening and waiting for me to open our mental line of communication.

  It still blew my mind we could understand each other this way. So far, no other creature I’d encountered could hear my thoughts or send their own back to me. None except for her. Peter said it was because I was special, but as far as I was concerned, Nightingale was the one with the gift.

  I wish I could just tell her what I am.

  Nightingale’s response, though lacking human words, held a very distinct tone of minding my responsibilities. She sounded a lot like Peter, and I scowled. Was I getting a lecture from a horse?

  Yeah, yeah. I know, I responded. I can’t risk scaring her into telling someone. What if I started with the fact that you and I can hear each other’s thoughts and give her a chance to get used to that before I tell her I’m an alien from another planet?

  Nightingale reached down and pointedly bumped the center of my chest with her nose. A soft glow sprang to life, emanating from my heart outward and washing the dark stall with a white light. I sighed as the accompanying energy surged through me like a rush of adrenaline. Another reminder that my truth was going to be a little much to process—even for someone understanding like Kate.

  I couldn’t put that kind of burden on her, anyway. Sure, Kate was my friend now, but someday Peter and I would leave again. We always did. And then Kate would have to live the rest of her life knowing she held my safety in her hands. As much as it sucked, I had to keep my secret.

  I spent the afternoon wandering the valley, letting Nightingale stop to snack on the sparse vegetation near the woods at the far end of the canyon. Our trek was aimless and when the sun fell low enough to hit the tips of the clay mountains that rose around us, we headed back.

  By the time I’d returned Nightingale to her stall, fed and watered and brushed down, I was mostly finished feeling sorry for myself. Any remaining guilt I harbored over my secrets from Kate was drowned out by the rumbling of my stomach.

  I let myself in the front door, kicking my boots off haphazardly as the scent of garlic and tomatoes hit me. I inhaled deeply, relieved all over again that Peter had discovered his love for cooking. I could still remember the human’s prepackaged and microwaveable meals I’d eaten when we’d first arrived.

  This was much better.

  Still, it was a surprising hobby for the Emperor’s top advisor who, by his own admittance, had never cooked a day in his life before fleeing to Earth.

  I walked into the kitchen in time to see Peter taking a pasta dish out of the oven, a red mitt on each hand. The sun had begun to set through the window behind him, casting an orange-red glow where it reflected off the canyon. The warm colors made his already-tanned skin look even darker.

  “Did you have a good ride?” Peter asked, setting the dish on the table and then going back for plates and silverware.

  I took a seat and reached for the pitcher of water and the empty glass in front of me. “Nightingale only tried eating poisoned berries once, so I’d call it a success.”

  He chuckled. “She’s starting to trust you more.”

  “I think she does it just to mess with me now.”

  His eyes twinkled as he sat down and handed me a plate. “She gets that from her owner.”

  I scowled and switched gears before every living thing on this property formed an alliance against me. “Kate called earlier,” I announced.

  “How is Kate?” Peter asked. His words were the epitome of well-mannered if not a bit distant, and I tried not to let it bother me. Peter was friendly and caring and warm—his aloofness with Kate was nothing personal. I knew that.

  “She’s fine. She wanted to remind me about the homecoming parade next week.” I averted my eyes from his, busying myself with scooping pasta onto my plate instead.

  Peter’s forehead wrinkled, his brows dipping in concern. “I’d forgotten about that. Do you still want to go?”

  I didn’t miss his tone or the unspoken message if I said yes. I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You need to be careful,” he began, and I braced myself for the lecture coming on. These were the times Peter felt more like my dad than my guardian. Not that I remembered anything about my father, but I’d seen enough human behavior to have some idea.

  I rolled my eyes and jumped in before he could get going. “I know, I know. Don’t let anyone touch my skin and don’t use my energy-force. You don’t have to keep reminding me. I lost my memory once but since then everything’s been pretty solid.”

  “You’re right.” Peter attempted a smile, flashing white teeth against a tanned face that gave way to short, brown hair. He wasn’t the same coloring I was, with my midnight black hair and pale skin, which meant we’d never been able to pass as father and daughter, but here on Earth, plenty of kids lived with guardians or extended family.

  The important thing was that our physicality was similar enough to humans that blending wasn’t hard. In fact, plenty of other species and creatures from neighboring galaxies resembled humans. I suspected there were others walking around Earth like we were, pretending, in order to cover up their real identities. How else had Peter managed to get us the right documents necessary to blend into this place?

  “It’s just that we haven’t had to move in over a year now. That’s a new record. For the sake of the horses, I’d like to stay a bit longer,” he said.

  As a mortician, Peter’s work kept him out of the public eye, so I was the only loose cannon to worry about when it came to public interaction. He didn’t let me forget it either. But I also knew he was just as lonely as me. Finding the horses had gone a long way toward easing that—for both of us.

  “So would I,” I agreed, thinking of Kate. But how much longer did I really have before she demanded answers? Or before my refusal to give them would cause a rift in our friendship? Probably a lot sooner than my time on Earth would run out.

  “What do you think about staying in Arizona when we do relocate again?” Peter asked.

  I blinked, nodding my agreement as I swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti. “That would be great.”

  “I’ve been looking up housing near Flagstaff. We can get something big enough for the horses about an hour out of town. Pretty cheap too. And when you’re done with school, we won’t have to be so close to civilization either so we can stay off the radar.”

  “Sounds great.” More solitude. Yay.

  “It’s also near a portal.”

  I almost dropped my fork but recovered and pretended the food in my stomach h
adn’t just turned to bricks. “Seriously?”

  A portal.

  That meant—

  “Alina, you’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks. At that point, your power will mature and you’ll be able to defend yourself better. The sooner you learn to fight with the full strength of your abilities, the sooner we can make plans to go home. In fact, I’d like to increase your training to help you prepare.”

  “We already train every day until I’m half dead. How much more can we do?” I asked.

  “Physical conditioning to increase your stamina for one thing. Two miles every morning and every night is a good start.” He also clearly hadn’t caught the fact that my question had been rhetorical.

  “All of this would be a lot easier if I could just remember,” I grumbled.

  “Taking your memory was for your protection,” he said quietly. “That day in Zorovia…a battle was lost, but not the war, and if you remember it, the weight of it all…” He took a deep breath before adding, “You don’t remember what it looks like to fail. You don’t have fear as your foundation. This is how you will defeat them and take your kingdom back. With your whole heart.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding. There was nothing left to say. Peter always reminded me what was at stake and why taking my memories were a part of the big picture. But it didn’t ease the frustration. Or the loneliness.

  “You don’t realize how far you’ve already come,” he added. “You’re so close, Alina. Soon, you will be ready and the past won’t matter. You’ll have a future. We all will.”

  I looked up and my gaze caught on his expression. It was something I rarely saw in Peter, something he usually kept carefully in check. He looked earnest. Eager even. His plan struck me then—full force. No more hiding out. No more blending in. Very soon, Peter was going to take me home.

  Chapter Two

  The next evening, I cleaned the kitchen and then slipped out to the barn. Peter had been true to his word about doubling up on training, effective immediately. We’d spent the day practicing turning my powers on and off, upping the heat, and zapping only the things I was actually aiming at. All the same things I’d been practicing for years. It wasn’t hard, just tedious. And it would have been a lot more effective with a real target, but it wasn’t like I had access to anything capable of withstanding my bolts—and living to tell about it. After hours of practice, I needed to get away, to remind myself there was more to life than shooting beams of light out of my chest.