Authors: Bethany Frenette
When humans first appeared on earth, the Old Race took no notice. But as humanity evolved, the Old Race became fascinated with them: their ingenuity, the way they experienced the world around them, the way they lived and died. And suddenly, the Old Race was not content. They no longer wanted to live in seconds and spaces. They wanted the physical world as well.
So the Old Race crossed over. They built bridges into our world, paths made of light and energy, of spiderweb and sinew, of sound and silence. They left the emptiness behind and came to live among humans, letting their powers sleep.
I imagined great beings with wings, moving down from the heavens with a warm golden glow. “Like angels?” I asked, curled up beside Gram on the porch swing.
“Not at all,” she answered. “They became human, just like you and me.”
But, she told me, not all of the Old Race crossed over.
Some stayed. Some were left behind in the void. The paths closed, and those on the other side learned, without knowing hope or love, what it was to grieve.
And to hate.
“The Old Race had taken the light with them, you see,” she explained. “The very last pinprick of light. And the world they left behind grew very dark, indeed.”
“What happened to the ones left behind?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Gram said. “Nothing happened to them. It’s just a story, sweeting.”
It was the same story Esther told, but she told it differently. The Old Race crossed over, she said—and became the Kin.
“We have been here since time before memory,” Esther said, watching me as she spoke. She leaned forward, her hands lingering over the Nav cards. “Though there are few of us now. We are secret, hidden across the world. We live where the Astral Circles lend their light.”
Histories woven into fairy tale, I thought. My skin prickled; I’d heard all this before. But those had been stories, nothing more. I shifted in my seat, swallowing. “You expect me to believe I’m some kind of—mythical being?”
Esther’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t expect you to believe anything. Either you’ll understand who you are, or you won’t. Belief has nothing to do with it.” She turned another card. Sign of Brothers. “We are human, but we’re something more as well. I said you were special, didn’t I? There is power that lives in our blood, the mark of our ancestry. Energy. The ability to do things most humans cannot.”
Like teleport, I supposed. Or pull the door off a car. Or—
“Knowing,” I said, sliding a hand forward to touch the Nav cards.
“A valuable gift, though gifts vary. Different bloodlines trend toward different abilities. Seeing. Healing. Fighting. We use them in service to others. The Kin live to protect,” Esther said. “It is our duty and our burden.”
“Guardians.”
“Yes,” she said. “All Guardians are Kin, though not all Kin are Guardians.”
I pictured my mother disappearing into the dusk, her hair pulled back, her face shadowed. I knew the way she moved, agile and deliberate. I saw the dark circles beneath her eyes, the way she occasionally fell silent and stared into the distance. A duty and a burden.
I’d always been proud of her, of her secret: my mother, Morning Star; the living, breathing myth; the superhero; the savior. But that pride had been mixed with a certain jealousy. Not just of her strength, but of her courage, her will, her very identity. When teachers asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told them a doctor or a lawyer or maybe the president. I never told them the truth: I wanted to be a Guardian, like my mother.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Now I knew just what it was she was guarding us against.
“Tell me …” I swallowed, clenching my hands into fists. I lifted my gaze to Esther. “I want to know about demons.”
In the yellow light, her strange eyes glittered. “They have no true name. They are known by many names. Demons. The Unseen. Here, we call them Harrowers.”
Harrowers. Harrowing.
Mom might not like the word demon, but this one felt worse. “What are they?”
Esther’s hands stilled. She’d flipped the final card over. The Beast. “They were a part of us, once.”
“The Kin?”
“The Old Race. Or so the story goes,” she said, giving me a delicate shrug. “So much is myth now, but I’ll tell you what I know of it. Our ancestors were a dying people. They saw humanity as their salvation. That is why they crossed over. And the Harrowers—they are those who remained behind. Over time, their realm deteriorated. The Harrowers became corrupted, twisted until there was nothing left of them but their hate. Now most tread the emptiness Beneath, tortured by endless envy and rage. Some are able to breach the barriers, inhabit our world, but they cannot truly escape. The Beneath lives in them, calls to them. And so they are never content, never at ease. There is no joy within them, no peace. They abhor the light, and roam in darkness. They cannot feel as we do—but they hunger to.”
I gazed at her, almost believing, not wanting to believe.
Seeing my hesitation, she shrugged again. “You have doubts? Perhaps some of it is only myth. Yet we are connected to them, and they are driven by their hatred for us. I’m certain you felt it.” She leaned forward, peering intently at me. “You met one, after all.”
“But what I saw—” I shook my head. “I didn’t see it. I sensed it, I think. But it felt … almost human.”
A slow nod this time. “Yes, it would have. They have abilities, just as we do. When they are not Beneath, they take both human shape and name. You sensed its true form, what it is when it doesn’t wear our skin.”
I’d had only flashes, nothing concrete. I was suddenly very glad I hadn’t seen it. “Just when I thought this couldn’t get any more disturbing.” I leaned back, drawing my knees up against me. “What do they want?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Death. Pain. Power. The more vicious ones hunt humans for sport, but we are their true targets. They revile the Kin, and yearn to be what we are. They want us.”
“So, what, they just go around luring girls into alleys and slicing their ankles?”
“Ah, you mean, what did the one who attacked you want? There is something particular it craves. They’re searching for something, you see. And they’re bleeding Kin children to find it.”
“Bleeding,” I repeated. Pain slashing through me. Red in the street. I hugged my knees tighter.
“There is power in our blood,” she continued. “And ankles are easy. They’re two of the five sacred spots. They bleed, but not enough to kill. Not immediately. First the Harrowers test you, test your blood. They cannot risk destroying the very thing they seek.”
I took a shaky breath. “What is it they seek?”
Our eyes met across the table. Esther reached forward and placed one cool, wrinkled hand against my cheek.
“A Remnant,” she murmured. She sat back, folding her hands in her lap. “Something left behind in our bloodline. A piece of the past, best forgotten.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the door was thrown open, and a whirlwind of black hair rushed in.
I recognized the girl immediately. I’d last seen her in the Drought and Deluge, her eyes pinned to Gideon, her dark blue dress catching the light. Now she wore checkered boxer shorts and a faded T-shirt. There was facial cream on her forehead, but she looked just as gorgeous as she had in the glow of the dance floor. Looking from her to Esther, I could see the family resemblance. Though the girl’s skin was darker, both she and Esther were tall and slender, both had long black hair that tumbled wildly down their backs. The shape of their eyes was similar, and the curve of their jaws.
The girl, running into the room, went directly for me. Before I could react, she’d grabbed me by the hand, pulled me upward, and hugged the breath from me.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you!” Whether or not she meant to shout, her voice was loud in my ear. “I heard you were getting a Kin lesson. I’m your cousin. Elspeth.”
“Um—hi,” I said, submitting to her hug. Then I glanced up and surprise stopped the breath in my lungs. Beyond us, in the doorway, stood the girl with the triple knot.
Iris St. Croix. I could see the resemblance in her, as well, though she was shorter than Elspeth and lacked her stunning beauty. Her dark hair had been pulled back from her face, and she was smiling shyly. As I looked at her, I felt a hint of uncertainty. I hadn’t given her much thought since that night at the Drought and Deluge when I’d seen her step into the alley and vanish as though she were nothing but shadow and smoke.
Or maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe she’d never been there.
Now she was here.
“I know you,” I told her. Then, as Elspeth released her death grip, I added, “Both of you.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you before,” Elspeth said, giving me a sunny smile. “You’re Gideon’s friend.”
I laughed. Gideon’s friend, of course. “Only because his mother pays me to hang out with him.”
“Can she pay me?” Elspeth asked.
Iris, moving into the room, rolled her eyes at her sister. “You should try to ignore Elspeth. Everyone does.” She stepped before me, and though she didn’t try to give me a hug, she continued smiling. “I had a feeling about you. Kin are drawn to Kin.”
Esther tapped her fingers against the table. “Girls, it’s a school night.”
Elspeth didn’t spare her a glance. “I won’t be late, I promise.” To me, she said, “Your mother told us on Monday. I can’t believe you’ve been here all along and we didn’t know you!”
Iris shook her head. “Settle down, before she decides she doesn’t want to know us.”
Elspeth ignored her sister and gave me another grin. “You’ll be spending time with us now, right? You’re a St. Croix, after all.”
“Mondays and Wednesdays after school,” Esther cut in, turning toward me. “I’ve arranged it with your mother.”
I wasn’t certain what that meant, but I was certain I didn’t like my mom signing away my afternoons without consulting me, especially since I already had martial arts on Tuesday evenings. But before I could object, Esther waved her hand in the air and spoke again.
“We’ll finish our conversation later. It’s time you were getting home.”
Which reminded me … “What did you do with Leon?”
As if on cue, he appeared before us. Elspeth gave him a little wave, pulled me into another hug, and departed, followed by Iris. “Monday, five o’clock,” Esther told me—and then, without a word, Leon put his hand on my shoulder and brought us back to the driveway.
The night was colder now, the moon distant and blurred by clouds. I shivered as Leon started his motorcycle.
“You okay?” he asked, handing me my helmet.
There was no way I could answer that question. I couldn’t articulate what I felt. Words moved through my head, but none of them seemed right. I had closed my eyes for a moment and woken in a world that was unsafe. But it was a world that was suddenly larger, too. I was something else. I was Audrey Whitticomb, and I was Kin.
I climbed up behind him on the motorcycle and set my hands on his waist, leaning into his back. I breathed against him. We sat idling in the driveway, exhaust rising around us.
“Audrey? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It’s a lot to process. I feel … different.”
“You’re still the same person.”
I laughed. Trust Leon to take that literally. “I didn’t say I was different. Just that I felt it.” I glanced back at the house, where the curtains were drawn against the dark. “I don’t think I like her.”
He shrugged. “You’ll get over it. Esther has that way with people. You have to get used to her.”
“Kind of like you?” I teased.
Leon went abruptly still, his shoulders straight and tense. I knew I’d said something wrong, but before I could take it back, he told me, “Being Kin—being a Guardian—is a privilege and a duty. It’s important. It’s not about being liked.”
“Hey,” I said, reaching upward to touch his shoulder. “I wasn’t being serious.”
His words were soft. “That’s the problem.”
Subtly, indefinably, something had altered. I wanted to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. I settled on his name, but he didn’t seem to hear me. His voice was gruff as he called back, “Just hold on.”
We rode off into the night.
Friday night, Tink decided she’d had enough of me ignoring her, and barged into my room with a backpack, a bottle of hair dye, and a bag of chips.
“I’m sleeping over,” she declared. “And I’m going brunette.”
Tink got this impulse once every few months but never actually went through with it, so I just rolled my eyes at her. Predictably, she lost her nerve as soon as we opened the package, and we spent the evening turning my brown hair browner.
“This looks … exactly the same,” I said, peering at myself in the mirror.
“Could be worse. Remember that time we turned Gideon’s hair purple?”
“That wasn’t purple,” I said. “It was a brand-new color, all its own.”
Tink only shrugged. “It washed out.”
“Two weeks later.”
“If he didn’t want to suffer, he wouldn’t hang out with us. He has other friends.” Turning away, she went digging in my closet for a skirt she swore I’d borrowed. Like I’d fit into anything she owned.
But the real reason Tink had appeared was to talk about the Kin. Or rather, to make sure we didn’t talk about the Kin. Ever.
“It’s not a part of my life,” she said, after she’d abandoned her search. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“But you are Kin?” I’d given up trying to notice a difference in my hair color and sat in my desk chair, eating Tink’s potato chips.
“That’s what they tell me.” She sighed, flopped down on my bed, and began paging through the book I’d left on my nightstand. “I’m not a Guardian, I don’t have any powers, and I’m only halfblooded anyway. My mom isn’t Kin.”
“But—you really don’t want to be a part of it?” I asked. I understood being afraid, but I recalled the feelings the word Kin had first sparked within me, that impression of home, like some missing piece had slid into place.
Tink had another take on it.
“A creepy cult where all anyone wants to do is talk about demons and fighting and special powers that I don’t have? Yeah, I think I can live without that.”