Author: Jodi Meadows

“He had six of these big canisters of aerosol. We have at least twenty, and the machine has been on since we left, making more. We could have twenty-five.”

“You said the sylph gained tolerance exponentially, so considering the size of the Templedark dose, we might have enough to affect Janan for a little while. Ten minutes? Twenty?”

I didn’t argue with his optimism.

“But in these notes, you’re also concerned about the delivery. If I’m reading right, Menehem had his canisters set up on a timer. They were positioned around the temple, and when he was ready, he remotely opened the canisters in order to prolong the exposure. To help compensate for the tolerance, he did one, then two, then the final three.”

“That’s right.”

“I think you were right to worry about an effective delivery. Will we be able to do anything like Menehem? We have twenty canisters. How can we release the poison so it has an immediate effect?”

“All at once.”

“But then,” Stef said, looking over as she finished dropping meat into the pot of water, “the effect wouldn’t last. We’d get maybe a couple of minutes.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have enough to make it last. That’s what we’ve been talking about. There’s simply not enough.”

As he finished washing his hands, Sam looked down and didn’t say anything. He’d been the one to turn on the machine, hoping it would help.

“It’s like a knife.” My words drew Sam’s gaze again. “It may not be enough to destroy Janan, but if we time the poison to release at the right moment, it might hurt him. It might be just enough to give us time.”

“To do what?” Stef’s voice deepened and she crossed her arms, but it was because of fear, not anger. Soul Night was so close, and people we loved were dying. Forever. She was as afraid as I was. “If the temple is dark when Soul Night begins, is that it for Janan? Will he just go away then?”

That seemed unlikely. But would he be able to ascend? Maybe not. That might simply delay him, or everything might go back to how it was before. Newsouls included.

No, I had to find a permanent solution.

“There is one thing we can do that Menehem couldn’t.” I stood and fumbled through Sam’s coat pockets until the corners of a box bumped my fingers.

“It’s true,” Sam muttered. “I’d never allow Menehem to poke around my clothes. What are you looking for?”

“This.” I unzipped an interior pocket and removed the temple key. “Both times Menehem poisoned Janan, he did it from outside the temple. But we can release the poison inside.”

“Will that make a difference?” Whit lifted his eyebrows.

“Maybe it will buy us one or two minutes more than if we used it outside.” I started to put the key back into Sam’s coat, but he caught my wrist and pressed the box against my chest.

“You keep it. I meant to give it back to you, anyway.”

With a somber nod, I stashed the key inside my coat.

“If we use it inside the temple,” Sam asked, “will we be able to get out?”

I dropped my voice. “I don’t know.” Again, I wished we’d had time to test the key on the tower in the north. Would the temple still respond to the key if Janan were unconscious?

Sam touched my hand. Snow began to fall, tapping the tent in a soft rhythm until all outside sound was smothered. “We did have a small breakthrough about the phoenix song,” he told the others.

“Maybe.” I didn’t want to get their hopes up in case we were wrong. “We still need more information. I keep hoping the books will help.” I glanced at the pile, but sleepiness tugged at the back of my thoughts. The books hadn’t provided any new information during the time we’d been snowbound, and it was unlikely we’d find anything else before Soul Night.

While we ate, Sam repeated our conversation about birdsong and our guesses about the nature of the phoenix song.

“What’s the next step?” Whit asked.

“I’m going to listen to as much of Sam’s music as possible,” I said.

“Oh no.” Whit clutched his chest. “How will you manage?”

I grinned. “I know, but to save the world, I’ll do it. I’m also going to look at the scores on my SED if I can figure out how to do that and walk at the same time. I want to make note about any trends in style or instrumentation. All trends, really.”

“So you’ll need a volunteer to carry you back to Range, hmm?” Whit glanced at Sam. “You’re looking a little scrawny lately. I’ll carry Ana.”

Sam snorted. “If anyone’s carrying Ana—”

“I’m walking.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll manage just fine. Thank you.”

“I’m not burdened with youthful pride.” Stef leaned back on her sleeping bag. “Feel free to carry me.”

Whit chuckled and winked at me. “No, Stef, you may not have youthful pride anymore, but you certainly have every other kind of pride there is.”

She threw a mitten at his head and for a few minutes, smiles and laughter filled our tent.

When the lanterns dimmed and Stef and Whit climbed into their sleeping bags, Sam crouched beside me.

“Ana, I was hoping . . .”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I was hoping, too.”

The tension in his shoulders melted like ice in spring, and he arranged our sleeping bags so they were on top of each other, an extra layer of softness underneath as we both shimmied into the top one. I pressed my back against his chest.

“Are you comfortable?” His body curled around mine, solid and warm, and our legs tangled together. Our fingers knotted, his hand over both of mine.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, the way he tried not to breathe too hard, like breathing might ruin the moment. “Sam.”

He kissed the back of my head.

“Sam.” I wanted to turn around and press my body against his. I wanted to feel his skin beneath his clothes and push my fingers through his hair. I wanted things I could only imagine. But not unless we were alone. “I’m sorry about these last weeks. About the secrets I kept. About my wild ideas. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hands, and our knuckles dug against my chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. I got so lost in my own guilt and misery that I forgot what’s most important.”

“What’s that?”

“Living. Loving. Making the most of our time together, no matter how short or long it will be.”

I tugged my hands from his and pressed his palm flat against my heartbeat. After he’d saved me from Rangedge Lake, I’d awakened to find him like this, holding me close, warming me, though he didn’t know who I was. What I was.

Now I traced the back of his splayed-out hand, feeling bones and knuckles and muscle, and when I released his hand, he didn’t ask if I was sure. We both knew I was, or I wouldn’t have invited him. He lingered over my heart a moment longer, breathing hard into my hair, and then slid his hand over the curves of my body, awakening in me a deep and wonderful ache.

Heavy layers of cloth muffled our breathing, his whispered love. We were cautious and quiet, but fires ignited within me and I’d never wished so hard that we were alone. I wanted to turn over and map out the lines of muscle on his body, too, but if I did, I never think about sleep again. And Sam seemed content—more than content—drawing patterns on my stomach, smoothing his palm over the slope of my hip, and turning my body into liquid. I’d never wanted anything so much as I wanted him to keep touching me.

When his movements shifted from sensual to sweet, and his breath turned soft and even behind me, warm on the back of my neck, I finally began to drift. Though I wasn’t nearly ready to stop, sleep dragged at me, and this wasn’t our only night. There were still a few more nights to fall asleep with his hands on my bare skin.

Halfway into a dream of sitting at the piano with Sam, thunder snapped me awake.

And a shrill ringing surged through my head.

22

FLIGHT

“DRAGONS!”

I struggled around Sam’s arms and legs, shouting. He jerked awake, and on the other side of the tent, Stef and Whit were already out of their sleeping bags and lighting lanterns and finding pistols. Sylph poured from the tent, shrieking.

“Where are they?” Stef turned on her pistol, and the blue targeting beam shone across the tent. Lantern light caught her face, darkening the shadows around her eyes.

“I don’t know.” I tried to straighten my clothes as I stood. “I hear the sound. The ringing.”

Wing thunder clapped again, and we all followed the sylph outside. Snowy rocks stung my bare feet, and the surrounding woods were black with shadows, both real and sylph. The sound of their moaning rose higher.

Above, dark shapes flew across the midnight sky. They circled us, as though looking for a place to land.

How had they found us?

“I have an idea.” I dashed into the tent again and pulled my flute from its case. Sam grabbed me when I emerged again.

“What are you doing?”

“You are doing it.” I pushed my flute into his hands. “They’re afraid of you.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to threaten them like this?” he asked.

“They’re armed. Now we are, too.”

Trees snapped like twigs as dragons batted them aside. Rushing and cracking and chaos sounded. Birds squawked and flew away, calling out warnings. Animals in the forest skittered as trees fell and immense wings shadowed the earth.

I found one of the lanterns and turned the light as high as it would go.

<The one with the song is here.>

<They need us. They will not use the song against us.>

Sam, Stef, and Whit all screamed and clutched their heads against the ringing, but while it made my head throb, I kept on my feet. Maybe I was growing used to it.

Three dragons landed in front of us, wings tucked alongside them, blue eyes luminous. Immense talons dug gouges in the frozen earth. Snow dusted their scales. Their huge fangs shone in the lantern light.

I stepped forward, no coat and no boots, but sylph fanned around me like wings. “What do you want?”

<We have decided.>

They’d actually been considering helping? Huh. “And?” It took all my will, but I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder and check on my friends. Hearing the dragons speak for the first time was a painful experience.

<We have looked at your city. The tower shines even in daylight now. The evil inside grows stronger. Your people are enslaved to their own kind.>

I didn’t move. Hardly breathed.

<The earth cracks itself apart. The steam vents have blown open wide enough for a dragon to nest inside. Your lake is gone. Only death lingers there now.>

Acid Breath’s voice was huge, booming inside my head. Nodding made the world spin, but I managed to hold myself upright. “Yes.” My voice seemed thin and weak, though aside from the sylph’s soft moans, my friends’ groaning, and the crack and patter of fallen trees settling, my voice was the only sound. “Yes, those things are happening because of what lives inside the temple.”

<Many things live inside the temple, but the only one you want to destroy is the one you call Janan.>

“Yes.” What else lived inside the temple? There was nothing. Just endless mazes and horrors—and the skeleton chamber. But the skeletons didn’t count as living, did they? “Why do dragons attack the temple?”

<To destroy the one with the song.>

I spun to find Sam clutching my flute to his chest, his eyes round and shadowed in the lantern light. He’d heard. The others—they were both looking up—had heard, too.