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  But he only stood there, unmoving, unspeaking.

  Ava took her hand away and stepped forward, motioning for Karma to come in. “She hid herself in there this morning. At first she was just humming, now she’s doing…that.”

  Karma walked over to the cupboard and knelt down. Silently, she placed a careful hand on the cabinet door and looked up at Ava. “Will you please put your hand right here as well?”

  Ava hesitated, then squatted down as well. She put her palm up against the pressed wood. It vibrated beneath her hand, sending little chills through her skin, up her arm. She took her hand back and frowned.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s not a red dragon tendency. They often sing to their young. But this is not singing.” She met Ava’s eyes. “What race is this girl?”

  Ava didn’t miss a beat. “She’s red.”

  Karma turned her attention back to the cabinet. “She’s not responsive at all?”

  “She pulled the door closed whenever we tried to get her out. I guess that’s responding.”

  Karma nodded. “That hiding, that is red. Pregnant red dragons ‘cave,’ when they sense their pregnancies may be in danger. Usually, it is not so intense, so she must think she is in serious trouble. But, she should still be speaking and eating normally.” Karma stood and walked back toward the purse she’d left by the door. She opened it and pulled out a tablet. She typed away on it, her usually cool face furrowed at the brow.

  “If I am not mistaken—and I rarely ever am—the humming and irresponsiveness are not red dragon traits at all. She may be very ill.” Her eyes flicked up to Ava. “How well do you know this girl?”

  Ava glanced over at Cale who was still standing blank-faced in the living room. “We haven’t known her long, but she’s…a friend.”

  Karma blinked at Ava. Then back to her tablet. “She seems more like an enemy.”

  Ava narrowed her eyes. “Look, are you planning on doing something?”

  “I can do nothing unless I understand her condition.” The screen cast blinking lights across Karma’s solemn face. “Unless there is something you’re not telling me.”

  Ava thought for a moment. She wished she could ask Cale whether it was a good idea to explain the whole situation to Karma, whether they could trust her to keep the secret.

  “She’s from Great Nest. And her pregnancy is a secret.” A half-truth would have to do.

  Karma pointed a graceful finger at the cupboard. She didn’t cringe like Ava did every time Juliette screeched. “That girl left Ireland and crossed the ocean to hide in this cabinet, here with you.” It wasn’t a question. Blue dragons were not fond of rhetorical inquiries.

  “How do we get her out?”

  She lifted her tablet. “I have here the health statistics the blue academy keeps on red dragon pregnancies. If the girl is healthy, it may be safest for her to follow her instincts and remain.” Karma’s mouth twitched a little, like she wanted to smile. “Red dragons. Their instinctual capabilities still astound me.”

  “That astounds you?”

  Ava used her legs to keep the door open while Karma struggled to monitor her pulse and take her temperature.

  “She won’t let me near the fetus,” Karma said, readjusting her hair and smoothing it back beneath its clips. “But her vitals are exquisite.”

  “So that’s your input? Leave the screaming dragon with the Tupperware?”

  “Yes. That’s my recommendation.”

  Then Karma looked over at Cale, who had begun to watch them. “Tell him…” She should have teared up, should have tried to run to him, to throw her arms around him. But she picked up her things and spoke so only Ava could hear. “Alert me if the girl’s condition changes. And tell him I inquired after him.”

  “But you didn’t inquire after him.”

  She just left, the gentle thud of her sensible heels the only thing following her home.

  Ava put her hands to her head as Juliette’s moan began to swell again. She rubbed her temples, then covered her eyes, pressing just a little so the backs of her eyelids were splashed with color.

  Her eyes shot open to the crash of the sofa flipping over. She almost reacted, thinking that Cale had snapped, but he had already disappeared up the stairs. He dragged their mattress out of the guest room and placed it beneath one side of the overturned couch.

  “Cale, what are you doing?”

  But he didn’t answer. Instead he grabbed sheets and threw them over the contraption he was building.

  Oh god. He’s making a fort. He’s regressing. “Cale, I think you need to take a minute.”

  He stopped and grabbed her hands in his. “I’ll be fine,” he said. Then, without warning he took her by the waist and lifted her backwards and onto the kitchen counter top. “But you’re stressed out. So I need to fix it.”

  She started to hop off the counter but he stopped her, touching warm hands to her face. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m worried about you. And if I help you, I’ll feel so much better.” He met her eyes with his own light brown spheres. “Please?”

  Ava felt that groan in her chest, like her heart was moving out of its place. It was different than her urge to be on her own. But just as strange. She scooted back and folded up her legs. “I’ll sit here for five minutes.”

  Cale gave a quick smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes—then returned to his task. He filled a disposable bottle of water and placed it inside the fort. Then, the squeal of terror as he ripped the cabinet doors from their hinges and carried Juliette to the living room. As soon as he set her on the ground, she scurried into the fort on her hands and knees, hunkering down on the mattress. Cale draped the last of the sheets over the opening, and at last, Juliette emitted nothing but a soft hum.

  Right on time, Miriam opened the door, a brown paper bag of groceries balanced in one arm. She paused, took a look at the makeshift furniture tent that held the humming Juliette, glanced at Ava on top of the kitchen counter and said nothing.

  “Where’d you get the money to buy those?”

  But Cale pulled Ava off the counter and led her to the door. Over his shoulder he asked Miriam to keep an eye on Juliette and closed the door behind him and his rider.

  “Cale, wh—”

  But he was already racing across the yard, his hand clutching Ava’s. He stopped and turned back to her so suddenly that she ran into his chest. “Can we just fly? I don’t want to talk or think…I just want to fly. With you. Right now.”

  Ava took back ownership of her hand. “Let’s go.”

  And they literally ran down the street and crossed into a cluster of bushes behind one of the bus stops. They zigzagged through the thick Florida underbrush until they were deep enough for the change. Ava fell back and Cale disappeared into a cluster of trees to strip. Ava had set the rule after the fourth pair of jeans Cale shredded while changing forms.

  She wished she’d brought her backpack so she could check the water bottle. It was the perfect time, with Cale preoccupied. And while she stood wondering about her bottle and her questions, she heard a flutter and the swift crunch of boots on dry dirt.

  “Shiloh,” she said without bothering to turn around. “You’d better hurry. He’ll be back any second.”

  Rane spread his wings and landed on Ava’s shoulder, no bigger than an owl. Ava rubbed her knuckle along his belly. Shiloh was still in his black leather cape and boots, his deadly fingers safe beneath his gloves. He spoke to Ava without looking, sparing her from meeting the whiteless, black fathom of his eyes.

  “How is she?”

  Ava kept her gaze on the bushes her dragon had disappeared through. “She’s okay. I think she needs to see you, though.”

  He hummed in the back of his throat—the no-ir way of thinking. “I cannot stay for more than a few seconds. You should know…they are coming for you.”

  Ava swiveled to face him, her eyes wide. “Now?”

  “I know not when.” Shiloh looked to the sky
. “But I know the greys will come.”

  “Tell them…tell them they don’t want me. I can’t do anything. I’m not what they think I am.”

  He met her with the wells of his eyes. “You are, phoenix. Rane and I have sensed it.” He paused. “But for you, I will try. And for me?”

  “I won’t forget, Shiloh.”

  Shiloh would have tried to follow a more social custom, maybe reach a hand to Ava’s shoulder, but Ava didn’t care whether he did or not. He held out his arm so Rane left Ava and flew to his rider. The two of them didn’t even need to speak. Their cores were one and the same. And, as the two of them disappeared and she heard Cale paws rumbling back through the trees, Ava wondered if Shiloh kept as many secrets from his dragon as she kept from hers.

  ***

  The curve of her mouth as her lips pressed together. The soft wave of her curls against her cheek. The way her breath entered and left her while she slept. Cale watched in the dark, the flicker of a candle warming the room. Ava didn’t mind going to bed without the bed part, as long as Juliette was resting and losing her mind a little less quickly. She lay facing him, her lashes casting dark shadows against her cheek.

  Cale knew sides of Ava she didn’t know herself—that she could be gentle and calm, that she could make him feel like floating just by being close to him.

  “I wish you wouldn’t forgive so easily,” he whispered. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but it was a habit he’d taken up when he couldn’t fall asleep. “I won’t let her near you again.” Ava’s hands were relaxed beside him, her fists unclenched. He traced them, each one, remembering the things they’d done just so he could have her, just so he could fly. She’d killed nightfolk and werefolk alike. That was part of their job, part of their vow to protect humans. But when Cale had upset the balance, when the no-ir were after him, Ava had fought off Rane, risked her life for his. He touched a careful hand to the white spiral scar that wound along her right forearm. It was Shiloh’s fellow rider who had done it, who caught her with his whip and dragged her to the sky dungeons. Cale swallowed the contempt he felt for himself. “I won’t let any of them near you again, sarai. I won’t.”

  He hated leaving her. Always, it felt like he was tearing parts of himself away. But, he kept quiet as he slipped past Juliette’s fort and out into the relative coolness of nighttime in Miami. In skinny jeans, platform heels, and a sheer black top, her white blonde hair and fringed bangs reflecting the orange lamplight, Myra stood slanted and impossibly long.

  As Cale got closer, he noticed the weariness in her brown mascara-clad eyes. Even though they were twins, it made her look so different than Onna. Then again, Myra always seemed as if she had much on her mind.

  “Any news?” Cale asked.

  Myra crossed lengthy arms. “No. Just the message from weeks ago. He said there isn’t much information, but it’s been difficult for him to access the library at the monastery. Says you’d have better luck with the electronic databases at the Academy.”

  Cale frowned. “We can’t get to the databases at the academy. Of all people, Cameron should know that.”

  “Look, he did you a favor by looking into it. How about you quit whining and let him get back to whatever they do over there.”

  Cale blinked at her. He wasn’t expecting a sweet-mannered Myra, but she was more sour than usual. “I know, I’m asking a lot.” He glanced up at the house. “I just…I need to make sure she’s going to be okay.”

  “You’re not the only one worrying about people you care for, Cale.”

  Cale stepped closer to Myra. “Something wrong with Cameron?” His brother had been in the blue dragon monastery for months and hadn’t communicated much with the outside world. It took money that Cale didn’t have to even get a letter to him since the monastery didn’t have phones…and weeks before a reply could make its way back to the United States.

  Myra shifted her weight, hugged her crossed arms tighter to herself. “I don’t know…I’ve only talked to him in letters. But…he sounds weird. I can’t explain it. And he hasn’t replied to my last two.” She folded her lips together for a second. “And I know. I know I’m not being very nice. I just feel like my insides are being squeezed by a giant fist. I just feel—”

  “Lonely?” Cale hadn’t known for long that the two of them were dating. Apparently, their relationship spanned a couple years. Of course, the two would miss each other.

  She met Cale’s eyes. “Afraid.”

  Cale wished he had no idea what she was talking about. But no matter where his mind wandered, it always came back to the same thought. That Shiloh and Rane had predicted the death of his rider. He had enough to be afraid about.

  “I’m sure Cam is fine,” he told Myra. Why wouldn’t he be? He was the smartest dragon Cale had ever known. Among the blues, he’d thrive.

  But Myra said something Cale didn’t expect and couldn’t interpret. “If you knew the things he’s lived through to make you happy—if you knew—you would be afraid for him too.” Her red tongue cut sharp and ran deep.

  Cale wanted to ask her what on earth she was talking about. He’d always loved his younger brother, despite their differences, despite their races, but she’d already turned and left, her heels nearly digging holes into the pavement as she walked away from her house.

  Cale sneaked back up to their room as silently as he could. He couldn’t tell Ava that he’d asked Cameron to find information on phoenixes, on grey dragon contracts, on anything that could help him understand what Shiloh had meant when he said her life was running out. She’d be upset he was worrying, and she’d only order him to quit wasting his time on made-up legends.

  He closed the door behind him, and after the click of the lock falling into place, Cale turned and found himself face to face with a wide-eyed Juliette. Her skin blanched, she stared at him in horror, clutching a pillow over her belly. It had grown even larger since that morning, and Cale didn’t know whether he should be frightened by Juliette or by the thought of delivering the baby that must’ve been ready to come.

  But Juliette turned away and waddled up to Cale and Ava’s room. Through a crack in the door, Juliette peered at Ava, then backed away and motioned for Cale to silently do the same. He looked through the slit in the door.

  Ava was sitting on the floor, her face buried in her knees, her fingers clutching her ankles so tightly Cale was sure she’d leave marks. Her breathing was sharp, as if she was trying to keep from screaming. Cale didn’t know what he was looking at. Ever since he’d laid eyes on his rider, he’d been able to feel what she felt, at least to a degree. If she was uneasy, unhappy, hungry, tired—Cale knew, because he felt the same. It was their bond.

  But Cale had felt nothing while he talked with Myra, nothing when Juliette met him at the front door.

  He entered the room and Ava’s head shot up. She gasped, scrambled to put herself together. But Cale dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Ava,” he began and reached out to her.

  She pushed him away, swallowed, and rubbed a quick hand over her cheeks. Her body held the golden glow Cale had seen before, flecks of light that danced just beneath her skin. God, it burns, she thought. It burns.

  Cale thought he might throw up at the sight of the tears smeared across her face. “Ava, you’re crying.”

  “I’m not crying,” she said, pulling her fingers into fists. “I’m just—”

  “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.” And he meant it. Ava could have her secrets, as long as she knew she could tell him anything. As long a she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “There’s nothing to explain.”

  “Alright.”

  “Alright.”

  But Ava stood up. “Stop that. Stop looking at me like that.”

  Cale stood too, completely lost. “Why do you keep telling me to stop it, Ava? This is what I do. This is who I am. I care about you.”

  “Well, do it a little less. Just once in a while. Give me room. You
’re smothering me in kindness.”

  Cale’s eyes flashed. “Fine, Ava. Fine. Everyone hates you. You happy now? There’s no one left to look out for you. You’ve chased everyone away.”

  “Good,” she said, her voice cool as stone. “For once in my life, I can breathe without people trying to suck the life out of me. Without people—”

  “People?” he stook and took a step back. “I’m still people to you?” He couldn’t take it anymore. “Don’t worry about any people. Maybe someday, you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me for giving a damn. And it won’t even matter. Because no one loves you, Ava. Just like you always wanted. No one.”

  “Cale…” She put her hands on her knees and took a rattled breath.

  But he was angry. And when Cale was angry, everything else disappeared. He spit on the ground, and it sizzled into the carpet. “No need to thank me, rothai. You can do whatever the hell it is you want to do. Just…go.”

  And she was gone.

  Cale stared at the empty space where his rider had stood a second before. He had seen her right there, had felt the heat of her words not two feet away from him. But she was gone. Nothing of her was left behind. Not her smell, not her clothes or shoes. Even the echo of her voice against the walls of the house had vanished.

  There was no way to feel what overcame him without falling to his knees. It was an emptiness. A cold, chilling, freefall of reality and denial. Hollow, hollow pain. He would have clutched at his doused core if he could have moved, if he could have thought.

  There were no words for Cale. No hope, no fear, no intuition. There was only truth—truth as flat and ordinary as water in a glass, as ash after a firestorm. His rider wasn’t gone.

  Ava was dead.

  Three

  There

  Ava was alive.

  She opened her eyes to the lapping of water against her skin. It took her a moment to realize all of her was bare. She sat there, waves soaking her legs, a brilliant sun sprawling rays over her.