Kin (2 page)

Her grandmother made a small, dismissive sound. “A rootfamily boy from Grimtree clan. He's arriving tomorrow on the seven o'clock from up-province.”

For a few moments it didn't make sense. The meaning of the words arrived, thunder after lightning, and Ruby almost rocked back on her heels. “I'm not even out of high school yet!”

“You wouldn't marry him right away.” Gran apparently considered that to be the final word, and turned toward the kitchen. “Besides, you may not find him pleasing.”

“I don't find
any
of this pleasing. It's medieval, to parade me in front of—”

“Oh, no. In those days, the males would have fought to submission or death to mate a kingirl, even if she evinced no interest. Times have changed.”

Great. You sound like Oncle Efraim.
“Is that supposed to be comforting? Jeez, Gran.”

“His name is Conrad. Surely you remember?”

Conrad, from the Grimtree. It rang a bell. She'd been told the story a million times, how she'd whacked him on the head with a stuffed rabbit when he'd announced she was pretty. “I was
three
.”

“I knew you would recall it.” Mithrus Christ, Gran sounded
pleased
. Before she vanished into the kitchen, she tossed one more little tidbit over her shoulder. “Also, your friend Cami called. She sounded quite worried, and hoped you were all right. I thought you were meeting her?”

“She didn't show up,” Ruby managed, through numb lips. Of course Gran would think Ruby had lied about where she was going.

Wild kingirls sometimes did.

A guest from out of town meant that she'd have to give up almost her entire week to showing him around, acting like she was interested but not
too
interested, and pretending to be a little downcast when he left. With Gran watching every moment, making decisions.
It's for your own good, child
.

It always was. Tonight was moonrunning, too, and everyone would be asking her questions unless she avoided them. That avoidance would be judged and weighed, too, because
kin
meant
together
. Even solitaries craved the company of their own when the Moon rose full.

So much for the last week of summer. Ruby sighed, groaned theatrically one more time, and stamped for the stairs.

A
N
HOUR
LATER
,
A
CHARMBELL
TINKLED
SWEETLY
,
and Ruby, furiously working at a wad of choco beechgum, whipped the front door open to find her best friends on the step, the green tangle of the garden under thick gold sunlight behind them.

“
There
you are!” Cami looked a little pale, but maybe it was just the deep voracious blue of her eyes. She even smelled worried, a tang of bright lemon over a deeper well of ancient spice and healthy young girl. “We w-waited for an hour!”

Which was worse, to admit she'd only hung around fifteen minutes, or to let them think she'd blown them off? It was one of those unanswerable questions, like where the Reeve started or whether lightcharms worked more like particles or waves. “I thought you'd forgotten, so I left.”

“Got caught in traffic.” Ellie, her wavy platinum hair pulled back, tipped her sunglasses down. It was kind of a shock to see her in jeans without holes and a decent pair of boots, a luckcharm bracelet tinkling sweetly on one wrist. She wasn't as pale as Cami, and she'd put on a little weight, thank Mithrus. She'd been scary-thin when summer classes started, and scary-starey-eyed as well. “You okay?”

They depended on her to be the perfectly unreliable one,
quelle ironique
. “Come on in. Sorry, I thought you'd bailed to spend time with the boys. Or, you know, study or something.”

“Why would . . .” Cami halted midway, stepping nervously over the threshold. Normally Ruby would have assumed the stutter was giving her some trouble, because she never used to be able to get a whole word out without trying a couple times. Ever since she'd disappeared last winter, kidnapped by a nightmare below New Haven, and been rescued, speaking had been easier. She was the closest thing to a sanity-anchor Nico Vultusino had, which was great—that boy
needed
something to put his brakes on, and Cami had quietly but definitely been moderating him even more lately.

Then there was Ellie, who glided into the front hall like she was on rails. Enough Potential to light up the city, a mad talent for charming, her
real
parents dead and her stepmother half-Twisted and shipped out into the Waste to a kolkhoz, good riddance and goodnight. Except Ell had disappeared for a while too, hanging out with some fey thing living near St. Juno's, and
that
hadn't ended well.

At least they were both still alive. A bit wide-eyed and twitchy, but alive.

It was a change to be considered the most drama-free of the three of them, and one Ruby wasn't quite sure she liked. Still, if she was going to start being responsible, better get used to it, right?

“I'm sorry.” The words felt a little weird. There never used to be anything to apologize for, really.

Or had there, and she just hadn't noticed? Lately, she'd been asking herself that a lot.

“No problem.” Ellie swept the door closed. “What do you want to do? If Avery drives we could even make a club tonight. You know, a grown-up place.”

For what value of grown-up, if they'll let us in through the door?
Still, the idea was powerfully attracting. “He can go out after curfew now?”

A shrug, but Ellie's eyes were dancing. “He's got the permit.”

Which means we'd
have
to take him.
“That would have done us some good a few weeks ago.”

Ellie, ever the overachiever, looked a little horrified. “We were in
school
then.”

Because Cami lost a ton of class time during the winter, and then you disappeared and we skipped everything to go around looking for you too.
“Oh yeah. That means no fun, ever. Forgot about that.”

Well, it had sounded funny in her head, but neither of them laughed.

Uncomfortable silence filled the hall to bursting, sloshing against the walls. Gran's cottage was in the heart of Woodsdowne, prime property, but it was small. You could tell she'd never expected to have company in here, much less the baby of a kingirl who wasn't ever spoken about.

Sometimes Ruby wondered about her mother. It would have been nice to know something more than the handful of whispers she'd managed to gather around the edges.

Whispers like
she was so beautiful, and Wild too
.

Really Wild, not just halfway there like Ruby. Maybe that was the trouble; she was watered-down instead of the real deal. If she was
really
Wild, she probably wouldn't have cared what Gran thought. Or maybe Gran would respect that, the way she respected Cami's quiet strength or Ellie's smarts.

Gran never spoke about Ruby's parents, except to once remark that Ruby looked like her mother, and confirm that her mother's mate was outclan. So she didn't have to worry about mingling with the closer branchkin.

Marrying too close wasn't good for the kin.

“You're angry.” Cami folded her arms. Even on the hottest days she generally wore long sleeves, even though her scars had vanished.

A habit that old was hard to break.

“I am
not
.” To prove it, she folded her arms too, and took a deep breath. Gran could probably hear every word, no matter where in the house she was.

“W-we didn't
mean
to be late.” A small vertical line had developed between Cami's perfect coal-arc eyebrows, and Ruby was abruptly conscious of her own wildly curling, uncombed hair, bare feet, chipped nail polish. Cami always looked so damn put-together. “What's wrong?”

She would be the one to notice any little thing, too. Since she didn't talk much, it was easy to be surprised when she made an observation.

Oh, nothing. I'm just probably going to be married off or collared because Gran thinks I'm
too
Wild. After expecting me to be Wild enough to qualify as rootfamily for years. When really I'm not Wild enough, and not sub enough to be calm and collected. Stuck in between. No big deal
. She dredged up a smile, searching for her old familiar
I-couldn't-give-a-damn
voice. It came, like it always did, an old reliable friend. “Not a thing, sweets. I just can't go out tonight. Clan stuff.”

Cami's face fell perceptibly, and Ellie's eyes darkened a shade or two. But Ell, as usual, immediately shifted to solve-the-problem mode. “Well, let's go have some fun now. I'll drive. And we can figure out what we're doing each day this week before school starts and write it down.”

It's just so
like
you to plan out everything.
“Houseguest.”

“What?” Sudden changes in direction always threw Ell off, especially when she was arranging things.

Ruby felt a little guilty, but only a little. Disrupting the planning mode had a charm all its own. “We're getting a visitor, tomorrow. Some guy Gran might marry me off to once I'm out of charmcollege.”

The announcement had its intended effect. Both of them looked thunderstruck. The line between Cami's eyebrows went away, and her cherry-glossed lips parted a little, as if she was working on a knotty High Charm Calc problem. Ellie actually rocked back on her heels—the boots were PaxGrecas, and well worn, so they still said
money
but they did it in a couth whisper.

“It's about time,” Ruby continued, hoping Gran was listening. “Gotta be more responsible, right? Last year of high school and all. So anyway. Where are we going?”

•  •  •

In the end, they couldn't decide where to go, so they flopped down on the living-room couches, the conversation turning in lazy circles as the tapestry's threads made that maddening little sound. There was a sort of perverse pleasure to be had in shrugging and saying, “I don't know, it'll depend on the visitor” when Ellie tried to time out the next week in precise increments. Cami watched both of them, her expression a mix of concentration and worry, just as it had always been.

It was almost a relief when Ellie sighed and glanced at the clock. “I'm due home for dinner soon. Ruby, is there any time at
all
that we can hang out before school starts?”

Well, wasn't that guilt-inducing. “I'll try. I just . . . you know, Gran wants me to do things.”

“I know.” Ellie rose in one fluid motion, her Potential a brief, sparkling arc for a moment as the atmosphere of another charmer's cottage changed around her.

Cami followed suit, more slowly. “I'll have a c-car tomorrow.” She spaced the words out carefully, brushing back a few glossy strands of raven hair. “Nico ordered it special from overWaste. A Spyder. So whenever you call, I can come.”

“Well hot
damn
. That's great news.” There was a funny little tickle in Ruby's chest. She and Ellie wouldn't need rides home from Juno anymore, being Year 12s and able to drive on their own. That had been Rube's job for
forever
. “What color?”

“Sort of cream, I guess. He tells me Spyders are p-pretty safe.”

“Safe?” Ellie's eyebrows nested in her hairline. “I guess, if you overlook that made-of-charmfiber-and-goes-like-the-wind thing. Hey, when you get it, can Ave look at the engine?”

The urge to roll her eyes was
immense
. It was Boy Mentionitis in a big way—every other sentence was about Avery. Ell hadn't even noticed boys
existed
before, so it was probably a natural stage in her dating evolution. Even an idiot could tell Ave was serious about her, which was nice to see. It meant one more person keeping her out of trouble.

“I guess.” Cami crossed her arms as if she was cold, rubbing at them through her sleeves. “Maybe I can even find out how an engine works. Fun.”

“You press the accelerator and it
goes
.” Ruby bounced up from the couch. “What more do you need to know?”

“How to keep it going, how to brake, how to—”

“I'm not
stupid
, Ell. It was a joke.”

More uncomfortable silence. Finally Cami cleared her throat, a small soft sound. “Today's not a good day. I'll call you both d-day after t-tomorrow. And we are
going
to hang out.” Polite but very definite, with her blue eyes level and serious, she suddenly looked less like a little girl playing dress-up and more, well, adult.

It happened to everyone sooner or later.

“Yes ma'am.” Ruby sketched her a cheerful salute, but her heart had fallen right into her guts with a gurgling splash. “I'll even wear heels.”

“We could go shopping.” From Ellie, that was a peace offering—her stepmother had worked in couture, and going into boutiques and ateliers turned Ell an interesting shade of pale sometimes. “Anywhere you want.”

It shouldn't have stung, but it sounded like offering a bratty five-year-old a treat. Ruby pushed her temper down with an almost-physical effort. “I'll make a list.”

It wasn't until they were safely out of the driveway—the sun blazing down despite fat-bellied shadows drifting over the city from fleecy clouds, gilding the primer-splotched Del Toro Ell borrowed from Avery Fletcher whenever she felt like it—that Ruby's shoulders unknotted. She'd played the holy terror for them again, and also gave Gran a few indications of responsibility.

If she could just keep this balancing act up, everything would be easy.

W
OODSDOWNE
P
ARK
,
A
GREEN
BEATING
CHAMBER
IN
New Haven's slow ponderous heart, always filled slowly with summer dusk. Here the trees hadn't started to turn yet, not even a few, and she wouldn't have put it past them to petition Gran for permission before they started to paint themselves. Summer lingered longest here in the hollows and dells, and once or twice in the middle of icy Nonus or even Decius, close to Mithrusmas, Ruby could swear she'd seen flashes of green, gone as soon as she turned her head.

Some things you just couldn't look at straight-on. Especially if you had any Potential at all. Ruby's was respectable, but it hadn't settled yet. She wasn't as high-powered as Gran, or Ellie, but she wasn't low on the gauge, like some branchkin.

Stuck in the middle once more.

“You're quiet. What's up?” Hunter crouched easily, his seal-dark head cocked to catch every sound. As usual, he was a little too close, crowding her personal space.

Ruby finished tying her trainers and didn't answer.

It was Thorne, as usual, who caught on. “He's coming, isn't he.” A lock of wheat-honey hair fell across his forehead; he shook it away with an impatient toss. A flash of white teeth as he grimaced, and Ruby straightened, stretching.

Hunter did too, in a rush. “Who?” He followed as she hopped down from the fallen log, verdant moss blurring its outline. “What?”

“Grimtree clan, one of their brothers. Clanmother's been looking for an alliance for a while now.” Thorne wasn't looking
directly
, but he was keeping very careful track of her in his peripheral. Again, just as usual. He'd always been the watchful one.

Like Cami, he watched. Of all the clan, he was probably the one who suspected the most about her—so she kept her distance.

It wasn't easy, when you'd grown up with a pair of boys, to keep them at the right orbit—not too close, not too jealous, not too far. A balancing act, just like the rest of them, speeding up in increments year by year until she looked around and realized the blur was making it harder to keep up.

It didn't help that Thorne was . . . well, difficult.

“Bunch of posers. I hear their Clanmother lets her enemies live.” Hunter's laugh was a sharp spear in the gathering dark.

“She's modern. Not like
you
.” Thorne got the idea Ruby wasn't going to take the bait, so he tossed out another piece. “Do you remember him, Rube?”

She let it go, touching the closest tree trunk—an old black elm, like the ones near St. Juno's. Leaves rustled, sounding like the tapestry in the living room.

Hunter, of course, couldn't leave it alone. “What was his name? Started with a
K
, right?”

“Conrad. The older twin, by a couple minutes, at least. He's a Tiercey, I think, that's their rootfamily.” Thorne's dark eyes gleamed, and he jostled Ruby. It wasn't accidental. She elbowed him back, catching him off balance and slipping away from between them and the tree, their unwitting helper in trying to surround her.

Kinboys liked to fence a girl in. You needed to be quick as a minnow to slide through. Sharp as a shark when they pushed it, too, like they
all
did.

It wasn't their fault girls were so few. Before the Reeve, they'd been born more often than boys. But when the Great War knocked whatever metaphysical cork loose and Potential spilled out to drown the Age of Iron, something happened, and now girls were increasingly rare among the kin.

In the old days, the problem had been mere-humans fearing what they didn't understand and killing what they could. A frightened mere-human was a deadly one, just like the Elders said. Now it was looking like evolution, or Potential itself, was going to do what the Age of Iron couldn't—erase the moon's children.

Behind her, Hunter shoved Thorne, who rabbit-punched him—light taps, one-two, on the arm. They were excited, full of healthy high spirits, just like before every full moon.

“Maybe he'll fight for her.” Hunt sounded a little breathless.

“Who cares?” Thorne, bitterly, but Ruby didn't want to deal with his temper tonight. Well, she never did, she hated the constant back and forth, as if she was a bone.

Just one more thing about kin and clan. She lengthened her stride, leaping a bracken-fall, and they hurried to catch up.

The last fingernail-paring of the sun slipped below the horizon, and Ruby took a deep breath. The Park inhaled too, little creaks and crackles in its depths as more cousins arrived. There were a few catcalls from other parts of the Park, the deeper growl of males and six or seven lighter, higher girl-voices. One sounded like Cherry Highgier, who dyed her hair with feyberry red, as if that would make her root instead of just a branch. She went to Hollow Hills instead of Juno.

All the other kingirls did. She'd never had the courage to ask Gran where
she'd
graduated from, or why Ruby wasn't sent to Hills. It wasn't a bad school, but Juno was
the
school for New Haven aristocracy, at least the charm and mere-human ones. If Cami had been born into Family instead of adopted, she would have gone to Martinfield like all the other Family girls. Ruby had once or twice wanted to ask her if she'd ever longed to belong with the kind that raised her.

That wasn't a kind question, though, and she was glad she'd reconsidered, for once. Considering how things had turned out.

Ruby hopped, lightly, testing her trainers. Just right, bouncy in the heels and light in the forefoot. You wanted a broken-in pair, comfortable but with some life left, for this sort of thing. Heels for hunting, boots for tracking, and trainers for fullmoon.

A silver thread ran through the night sky, and like she did every time, she ducked her head and picked up the pace, searching for the right beat.

She settled into a long easy lope, but she didn't follow the thread. Instead, she aimed the long way down the Park. The rest of them could bunch up tonight, but she wanted space and no awkward questions or narrow-eyed judging. Of course, what you wanted and what you got were two different things, even on fullmoon.

The others would ride up the thread like it was a silver rail, pulling the circle tight. You weren't quite helpless in the face of the moon, but sometimes it felt like it.
Rootfamily means freedom
, they said, the strains of the moon's blood in yours stronger, the kin unraveling in branches out on either side.

Freedom? Sure, to a certain degree . . . until responsibility closed in, and your duty to the clan reared its ugly head.

Why are you so Wild?
Ellie had asked, once, and Ruby had just shaken her head. Adulthood meant freedom to her friends, but Rube only had a little time before she became a Clanmother-in-training, trying to breed more girls after college so the moon's kin didn't die out, learning diplomacy and how to navigate her clan through alliances, keeping up with Gran's import-export business to keep Woodsdowne a power in the city, and just generally doing everything she disliked until she died.

Ruby sped up. The silver thread widened, and behind her the boys' footsteps fell away. They were branch, too; their mothers had married outclan. Hunter had siblings, all boys, but Thorne was an only. It was probably why he was angry. Without siblings, you didn't have anyone to help take care of your children, and inheritance might pass to a branch with more members after you died.
Cubs need siblings
, the Elders said.

Continuance, every clan's obsession. How many other Wild kingirls felt this desperation? She couldn't just come out and ask
do you ever feel like just a walking incubator for more kin?
None of them had ever been friendly, and Gran sending her to different schools hadn't helped.

Nobody had ever been quite friendly, except Cami and Ellie. Even then, she didn't talk about being kin. There was no point, and the habit of secrecy from the Age of Iron was old and strong. They sort of knew, but they didn't talk about it. Not like Cami and the Family.

Cami considered them normal, and let little things drop. Of course, it probably helped that Nico's father had treated her just like a born-in daughter. It used to make Ruby feel a little funny to visit and see the way the entire Vultusino house sort of revolved around her friend, with Enrico Vultusino clearly thinking she hung the moon and Nico always glowering if he thought someone had messed with her.

Come back to the now, Ruby. You're running.

Hop skip and jump, trainers lightly touching a moss-covered rock, branches whipping by, more sensed than seen. She leapt, ducked, and settled into another lope when she was certain there was a nice, comfortable distance between her and anyone else.

In the distance, the song began. High trillings and long modulated notes, a chorus of communion. Mere-humans would fear the sound, hearing fur and teeth in it, but there was really nothing to be afraid of. It was when the kin were dead silent that you had to worry.

Ruby sank her teeth into her lower lip. A bright scarlet star in her mouth, copper-tasting, the smell maddening and rich. Behind her, Hunter's cry was an orange rose opening against the deepening sky, and Thorne's fierce quiet a song all its own.

When had she started to listen for that silence? Did he guess? Probably not.

Hopefully not.

The end of the Park was coming up. A steep bramble-covered slope studded with stumps and ancient oaks, their leaves rattling as the breeze came up from the bay. Beyond it was the very edge of Woodsdowne, where other suburbs began—Hollow Hills and the Market district, not technically a
suburb
but still not a place to go traipsing while the moon's gift was at its peak. The shift would be on her soon. Already her skin was rippling, a bittersweet pain below the flesh.

He's coming on the train
. Furious negation burst out of her, a high chilling note crowding her throat to spillskin fullness, and every kin in hearing distance replied. Harsh, fierce music. Mere-humans used to bolt their doors at night, thinking the moon's children did awful things. They'd more to worry about from each other than any of Ruby's kind, and if you didn't believe that, just look at the tabloids full of mere-humans and charmers doing things to each other kin would never dream of.

All this flashed through her and away in a moment, skating the edge of rage. The red was all through her now, deep like a rosette on the sheets the first morning you wake up with cramp-aches, your body unfurling a scarlet pennon signaling the end of everything good.

Ruby put her head down. Her feet sped up, knowing each dip and rise, the hidden traps in the thornbrakes. A line of fire on her wrist, her cheek, she was going too fast to slow down even as the branches clawed at her.

Another cry, rising from deep inside, and the hill unspooled underneath her. A low stone wall at the top was the boundary, the absolute edge. It wasn't permissible to go past it on fullmoon nights. Woodsdowne was theirs, but outside was the realm of the mere-humans, and on fullmoon, they didn't mix.

Last shot, Rube. You gonna go for it?

Of course Gran said they'd send him back if she didn't like him. But Ruby had a duty. A responsibility.

Why are you so Wild?

They all asked. Why explain?

Breathing hard but smoothly, air like dark red wine, legs full of youth and her jeans shaking off slashing brambles, soles skritching over the top of a stump that still cried out at the loss of its height, a tongueless imperative. A leap, hands catching, bramble tearing . . . and she was atop the low stone wall, as the moon's call sent a secret subtle thrill through all of New Haven, from the sky-scraping piles of rot at the core to the outermost Moving Wall against the Waste, from the highest house on the Hill to the deepest sunken sewer. The bright face and the dark face, and Ruby on the thin edge between them, vibrating, leaning forward, ready to leap—

—and hot iron-strong fingers around her ankle, she fell backward with a blurted cry, all the magic of running draining away.

Back into her life.

•  •  •

“What do you think you're
doing
?” Thorne, his own skin blurring and the words strangely slurred as the shape of his jaw changed, hissed as Ruby and the brambles both clawed at him. “You go beyond bounds and it'll—”

“FOUND YOU!” Hunter crashed merrily through a wall of greenery, colliding with Thorne. The sound, meaty and solid, would have been hilarious if Ruby hadn't been so stunned. She gathered herself and surged to her feet, juicy needle-fingered vines clutching all over her shirt, weaving in her hair. As if the hillside had come alive, and wanted to eat them all.

“Idiot!”
The word spiraled into a thrumming growl as Thorne moved, quicker than quick. The knot of thrashing ended with a flat smacking sound, and Ruby inhaled sharply. They were both on the edge of the shift as well, bulking up and furring out, claws piercing fingertips.

The smells—broken plants, green sap, the baked dryness of stone—held a serrated edge now. Musk, and copper, and spikes of dominance. They both struggled upright, vines hanging overhead like fingers.

“Ow.” Hunter shook his head, and there was a flat shine to his dark eyes, visible even in the deepening dusk. “You
bastard
.”

Thorne shrugged, and opened his mouth to say something else, probably dismissive.

Unfortunately, Hunter's fist caught him right in the face, and there was a moment of silence after that crunching blow before both of them erupted. Not into vociferous argument, which would have been okay, but into almost-silent motion.

On a fullmoon night.

Great.

Ruby opened her mouth to yell at both of them, but they crashed down the hill in a knot of low deadly noise. Potential sparked: suddenly every vine on the hill wanted to wrap itself in her hair, and the dusk became a spreading bruise.