Promise of Shadows

by Ireland, Justina

  Tallon watches me intently. “The vættir have been waiting for over two thousand years for the Nyx to return. I think they can wait a little while longer.”

  I shake my head, wrapping my arms around my middle. I’m fully dressed, but having him here with me in my bed makes me feel naked and vulnerable. I decide it’s not a feeling I like. I tear my eyes away from his dark gaze.

  That’s a mistake, because then I remember that he isn’t wearing a shirt. I’m in full-fledged panic mode. I can’t seem to stop staring at his muscles, which he has more of than any guy should. His skin is golden, not pale like when we were kids. My fingers itch to see if his arms are as firm as they look, and that’s when I know I’m in trouble.

  Harpies do not have crushes, especially on their childhood best friends.

  My wayward thoughts force me out of the bed too fast. The sheets wrap around my legs, and I fall onto the floor. Tallon leans over the edge of the bed, his curtain of dark hair falling across his face.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concern tingeing his voice. “You aren’t getting freaked out because we’re in bed together, are you?”

  I’m so surprised by his response that I can’t answer him. Why would he think that? Am I really that obvious? More important, why am I so panicked? Is it because I like him?

  Pffft. Of course I like him, that’s why I’m about to have a minor freak-out.

  Tallon watches me with his dark gaze. “What’s going on with you, Peep?”

  I want to tell him everything. How I cried for days after my mom told me he wasn’t allowed back in the Aerie. How I made myself forget him because my memories hurt too much. Or the way I sometimes imagined him showing up and helping me escape the Aerie when things were at their worst. And more recently, the way my heart jumped into my throat when he saved me from the drakan in the Underworld. I want to tell him all these things, to let him know that the years haven’t changed me as much as he thinks.

  But I’m not brave. Never have been, never will be. So I mumble some excuse about breakfast and kick away the sheets. I jam my feet into my stinky boots without even looking to see if they’re on the right feet, and I run out of the room.

  I’m halfway down the stairs before I pause, leaning against the wall and trying to catch my breath. My heart thrums in my ears, and I feel like I was running for my life. I have no idea why I’m so keyed up. It’s like I just woke from a bad dream.

  That’s when I realize that I’m afraid. Not that I’ll die, like I usually am, but of Tallon. I’m afraid he’ll see how much I like him. Because I like him. A lot. What I’m feeling is strange and unwelcome, an emotion that belongs on a TV screen, not to me.

  I feel so fragile right now that Tallon’s rejection could break me.

  I hide my face in my hands and try not to laugh. I am such a loser. Why do I have to have a crush on a guy who once put jelly and birdseed in my hair? Why can’t I like Blue, who’s friendly and easygoing? Why does it have to be Tallon, who studies me like I’m about to do something stupid?

  Because it wasn’t Blue who made me feel safe, who could convince me to go on any of the harebrained adventures Whisper came up with. It was Tallon. He was the one who picked me up when I fell down. It was always Tallon who was there to catch me.

  And now? Now I want that, and more.

  My middle squirms with nervous anticipation when I imagine kissing him. I push the mental image away in disgust and go downstairs. No wonder I failed my Trials. I’m not even a Harpy. Feeling this turmoil and sick excitement over the mere thought of kissing Tallon proves what a failure I am. Harpies never fall for anyone. They definitely never fall in love.

  The thought stops me on the staircase. Love? No, not love. That’s much bigger than what I feel for Tallon. It has to be. But I definitely have a bad case of being in like.

  I think of Whisper and the one boyfriend I ever saw her with before her doomed relationship with Hermes. Mom was still alive then, mapping out our limited free time with drill after endless battle drill. Whisper hadn’t yet taken her Trials, and I was still too young to leave the Aerie by myself. Sneaking out hadn’t been easy. But I was determined to know where Whisper went every night after lights-out. So one night after our mom went to bed I opened my window, climbed the oak tree to the roof just like Whisper had, and flew out toward town.

  It was easy finding Whisper. The mint-cookie scent of her happiness led me right to her. Learning the scent of emotions isn’t easy for most Harpies, and we only learned the most basic in our Aerie-sponsored training: fear, anger, sadness. Those are the most common in a battle, and we were drilled on their different incarnations constantly. But Mom thought it was important to learn more than just the basics, so every night after dinner she and Whisper tested me on some of the lesser-known emotions. I knew the scent of Whisper’s happiness because I’d been trained on it. The smell clogged the air like a giant neon arrow, and I found her with a boy next to a fountain in a park.

  When I looked down at them, their arms were wrapped around each other as though they were a couple of strangling vines. I was so surprised to see them twined together that I over-corrected for a slight updraft. The mistake cost me my equilibrium, and I crashed into a nearby tree.

  I fell through the branches, the noise bringing running feet. The two of them arrived, Whisper’s face twisted with anger. I could barely smell the burning-plastic scent of her rage. The boy’s orange-Creamsicle surprise nearly canceled out everything.

  “Hey, she’s got wings,” he exclaimed to Whisper, pointing at me. His eyes didn’t reflect the light like Whisper’s. That’s when I realized he was human. “Whisp, tell me you see what I’m seeing.”

  “Yes, I see it.” Her rage melted away, and the rotting-floral scent of her sadness was so strong that I could barely breathe. I stumbled to my feet just as Whisper summoned a bright ball of æther and sent it at the boy. His eyes went flat before he fell into a heap.

  “Did you kill him?” I asked, brushing pine needles from my pajamas.

  “No, it’s a spell of forgetting,” she said a split second before she punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain, gasping for breath. It was more the surprise of the attack than the pain that stunned me. I was used to my mother hitting me, but not my sister.

  But my physical discomfort faded quickly. Thanks to vættir healing, even pain doesn’t stick around for very long.

  When I stood, she was a few feet down the path. I ran to catch up to her. She was just sitting there, staring at the fountain. A scent I didn’t recognize wafted off her before she got ahold of her emotions and clamped it down. It smelled like fruit punch left out in the sun.

  “If you were going to set up a secret meeting, you should’ve picked a better place.” Whisper turned to look at me, and I was too stupid to shut up and step back. Instead I just continued. “There were several avenues for attack, and anyone flying overhead would easily see you guys. This place blows as defensive positions go.”

  I should’ve seen the second hit coming, but I didn’t. I like to think she pulled the punch at the last moment, but even so the left hook caught me on the chin and made me see double the stars overhead. I fell flat on my back. As Whisper stepped over me, I heard her say, “I didn’t pick it because of some tactical advantage. I picked this place because it was pretty.”

  By the time I made it home, the sky was brightening. The Harpy on sentry patrol over the Aerie spotted me and escorted me home to my mom, who was expecting me. She didn’t hit me, but I was grounded for a month, which meant no flying except for school drills and no TV at all. It was the worst punishment I’d ever gotten.

  I still got off easy. Whisper was grounded until her Trials, three months later. She didn’t speak to me for a week. It finally sank in that I’d somehow betrayed her. I tried to make it up to her by stealing a pie from the community kitchens. It was apple, her favorite. I left it on her pillow before I went to bed. She came in, picked it up, and hurled it out our open window.
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br />   “You don’t get it, Peep,” she said, taking off her boots and sitting heavily on her bed.

  “Are you mad at me because you loved him and I ruined it?”

  “I don’t think I loved him. But I liked him. I liked him a lot. And that was enough.”

  I rolled over and sat up. “But if you didn’t love him, why are you still mad at me?”

  “Love isn’t the only reason to enjoy being with someone. It was enough that I liked the way he made me feel. He made me happy. True love, like in the old stories? That doesn’t happen for us. Not like for other vættir.”

  I rolled over and looked at her. I couldn’t tell what she was feeling. Her emotions were on lockdown. “It happened for Mom.”

  Whisper sighed. “If you think Mom slept with our fathers because she loved them, you have a lot to learn. You need to stop watching so much TV. We don’t fall in love, Zephyr. We can’t. Love will get you killed.” It was an old saying among the Harpy. It came true for Whisper. The Acolytes killed her because she let herself fall in love with an Exalted. I remind myself of that as I stumble down the stairs and into the living room.

  If I’m distracted by Tallon, how can I focus on the other things I need to do? Becoming the Nyx, finding Whisper’s shade, fighting a prophesied war, and avoiding death at the hands of Hera and the Æthereal High Council . . . these aren’t exactly small tasks. I can’t really see myself having a lot of time for dating.

  I just don’t need the distraction of Tallon. I need to focus on not failing. That’s going to be hard enough for me to do without getting all twitterpated about a boy.

  And with that thought I push Tallon out of my mind and swear that I won’t let myself think about him again. Nothing lies down that path but trouble.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NANDA AND CASS ARE IN the kitchen when I arrive, chatting easily. There’s something strange about the whole thing, and it takes me a moment before I figure out what it is. Cass’s hair is different. It no longer hangs in jagged hanks. Instead it swings around her face in chunky layers that make her look younger and prettier all at the same time.

  “What happened to your hair?” I ask, interrupting Nanda’s discussion about Gorgons and their nasty tempers.

  Cass turns to me with a frown. “What do you mean?”

  I make a chopping motion next to my face. “You cut it.”

  “Yeah, Nanda cut it last night. She’s a hairstylist. She thought it would be a good time for a change, and I agreed.” Cass shrugs. “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do. It looks good.” Too good. It’s easier to see how pretty Cass is now, and it makes me nervous. Harpies aren’t really anyone’s idea of beautiful, and standing next to Cass with her shampoo-commercial hair just makes it more apparent.

  It also reminds me how outclassed by Cass I am. She’s thousands of years old, comes from a long line of heroes, wields magic like an Æthereal, and is beautiful. Next to her I feel pretty insignificant.

  Nanda puts a plate of French toast on the kitchen table, and the smell is heavenly. “You girls better hurry up and start eating before Blue and Tallon come down. Those boys are bottomless pits.”

  My face heats as I think about Tallon. Ugh. I’m supposed to be forgetting he even exists, not swooning at the mere mention of his name.

  I collapse in one of the kitchen chairs and put my head on the table, covering it with my arms. I groan. What is wrong with me? I went seventeen years without going crazy over a boy. Why does it have to happen now?

  Nanda sets a plate near my head, and I sit up. She watches me with a worried look, but luckily I’m close enough to the French toast that all I can smell is cinnamon. “Is something the matter?” she asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  “Ummm,” I say, debating how much to tell her. I can’t mention that Tallon spent the night in my bed, even if nothing happened. She’ll freak. Hells, I’m freaking out.

  So instead of telling Nanda the truth, I change the subject. “I’m worried about Whisper.” I quickly relate to her my visit with Hades, and the revelation about Whisper not being in the Underworld. There’s enough truth in the story that she doesn’t notice my lie of omission. Because there is something wrong, but a hopeless crush isn’t exactly breaking news.

  Cass takes the seat on the other side of me and begins loading up both of our plates. “Did you want to try scrying for your sister today? That’s usually a good place to start. It would at least give us a basic idea of where your sister ended up.”

  Nanda sits across from us and frowns. “Maybe you girls should go talk to my neighbor first. Kyra’s a Hecate, and they know more about the journey of the dead than any other vættir.”

  “That’s a good idea. I can see if she’s noticed a lack of shades on the Paths recently.” Cass puts a bite of food in her mouth. She’s remarkably dainty, considering she’s eating with her fingers.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes before Cass suddenly pushes her chair back and stands. “I’m going to talk to Kyra now. You almost finished?” I want to ask Cass why she’s in such a hurry, but then I remember Hermes’s promise to take her to see her dead boyfriend in the Underworld. Is helping me find Whisper’s shade also part of the deal?

  Bitterness surges through me, and I’m surprised by the emotion. I push it aside. I shouldn’t care what her motivations are as long as she’s helping. Besides, maybe she’s really just helping me because we’re friends.

  But I’m not ready to leave yet. My plate is still half-full. I’ve been daydreaming more than I’ve been eating. There’s just too much going on. It’s overwhelming.

  I start to stand, but Nanda gestures for me to sit back down. “You finish eating. Cass can go by herself. We need to catch up, anyway.” The dismissal in her voice is clear, and Cass nods.

  “I’ll fill you in when I get back.” Nanda gives Cass directions to Kyra’s house, and then she’s gone.

  Cass has only been gone for a few minutes when Nanda sits down at the table. “Tell me how you met the Pellacis.” Her tone is harsh, and in that moment she reminds me of my mother.

  I shove a forkful of French toast in my mouth to give myself time to answer the question. “Why?”

  Nanda shrugs. “Humor me.”

  I sigh. “I met her when I first landed in Tartarus.”

  Nanda shakes her head. “No, I want you to tell me everything. It’s important.”

  I nod. And I tell her the entire story.

  Once Hermes dragged me to the Æthereal Realm, my life was pretty much over. After I spent a couple of days in a cell, the Æthereal High Council took a remarkably short time to find me guilty. But instead of killing me, a few of the dark lords spoke on my behalf, and I was sentenced to eternity in Tartarus. No sooner had the sentence passed than I was pushed through the portal to Tartarus, my wings shredding as I fell through the abyss. The pain was incredible, fire along my back. But it was nothing compared to my despair. Wings are the pride and joy of a Harpy. To lose them, after I’d already lost so much, was more than I could handle.

  I grabbed for the razor-sharp feathers as they swirled around me, cutting my exposed skin. But I couldn’t stop the destruction of my wings.

  I slammed into the mud of Tartarus broken, bleeding, and utterly hopeless.

  My first few moments in Tartarus I didn’t do much more than struggle to breathe. The hard landing had knocked the wind out of me, and when I finally managed to gasp, I gagged. The air tasted like iron and sulfur. It was heavy and damp, and the landscape was something out of a nightmare.

  The sky had a twilight cast to it, the color somewhere between gray and a bruised purple. The dark shapes of trees pressed in all around me, even though the spot I lay in was clear. I’d landed in a clearing, close to the tree line. I rolled over and stood up.

  A few feet away a group of about twenty people watched me, their expressions ranging somewhere between pity and triumph. A mixture of emotions drifted off them, the burned-popcorn scent of exci
tement, the crap-and-iron smell of bloodlust. I couldn’t pick out where each of the scents came from, but it didn’t matter. There was a predatory air about them that set my heart pounding.

  “Godslayer!” someone screamed. A Cyclops ran forward, his shovel held high over his head. I stared at him openmouthed, and somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice told me that I was about to die. This strange Cyclops was about to bash my head in. No more than a few breaths in Tartarus and I already had my first assassination attempt.

  I never even got a chance to react. A blond girl broke free from the crowd and tackled my attacker. She moved faster than anyone I’d ever seen before, a deadly whirlwind of motion. The Cyclops landed face-first in the muck, and the girl jumped to her feet before severing his head from his shoulders with a clean stroke of her shovel. Behind her people murmured and moved back. I swallowed hard, my heart beating out an erratic rhythm against my ribs. There was no way I would stand a chance against this girl.

  I took half a step back as she moved toward me. She bent down and grabbed the dead Cyclops’s shovel and held it out to me. I took it reluctantly.

  “A Harpy? In Tartarus? That’s new,” she said in heavily accented Harpy. I hadn’t heard the language of the Aerie since I’d fled. Not many spoke it, since it’s all clicks and whistles, and the sound made me smile.

  “Not many speak Harpy,” I responded in Æthereal. It was a more common language, and easier to speak.

  “I’m not like many people,” she said, hand out. “Cassiphone.”

  “Zephyr. I think you just saved my life.” I clasped her arm in the way of warriors meeting each other on a battlefield. Cassiphone’s eyes brightened.

  She tilted her head as she examined me. “Zephyr Mourning? The Godslayer?”

  I nodded, and took back my hand.

  “Well, Zephyr Mourning, welcome to Tartarus. Try not to die.”

  Nanda sits back as I finish the story, her expression a mystery. She’s silent for a long moment before she says anything. “How did she know who you were without your wings?”