Love Me, Love Me Not Read online

  I clenched my teeth, trying to remember how to breathe. My wings wilted, bending awkwardly behind me. I pressed down on the raw hole in my leg and tried not to gag. Sweat beaded my forehead.

  “I will shoot her again,” Ms. Pritchard said. “Save my son.”

  Soliloquy saw the moment her mother decided. “Mom, don’t,” she begged.

  Because there was one way this might possibly work. It wasn’t a healing spell or the magic of a song. It was a straight exchange. It was physics really: energy is neither created nor destroyed. It was the same with magic.

  “I couldn’t save your sister,” Aunt Agrippina told her softly. Her first daughter was born before any of us, and she’d died in the hospital. She’d never even made it home, not once. Aunt Agrippina didn’t talk about it. No one did.

  “Mom, Lyric was sick. Really sick. And this woman’s deranged! She doesn’t deserve this!”

  “No,” she agreed. “But that little boy does.”

  I wanted to stand up, but I couldn’t. I had to keep pressure on my leg. “Aunt Ag, don’t.”

  “I heal Ana first,” Aunt Agrippina added.

  Ms. Pritchard narrowed her eyes. “No.”

  “Then they both die.”

  I hoped to hell she was bluffing. Pain made it hard to think properly. There was a beat of charged silence. Ms. Pritchard nodded her head once and Henry let Agrippina move, but he kept his gun on her. She crouched in front of me, smiling her nurse’s smile. “Let’s fix you up.”

  She sang a song and I watched the bullet force its way up and out of my leg. It was slow and awful, scraping at the raw flesh. The ragged hole in my leg fused together, leaving a dull ache and a scar.

  “I need my cloak,” Aunt Agrippina said, standing up.

  Someone brought it to her and she wrapped it around her shoulders, the haunted look fading from her eyes for the first time since it had been stolen. She smiled slightly before turning to the bed. “If you come back here,” she said. “If you raise a hand against my people again, they can take this magic away again. Do you understand me?”

  Ms. Pritchard nodded, going pale. Aunt Agrippina was lying. Once magic like this was given, it was gone. But it served as a good threat.

  We sang with her, lending her what power we could.

  The light gathered around her until she was a column of gold. It flowed down her arms like bright water, washing over Simon, pooling over his heart and his throat and pulsing like stars. The air was full ozone, the way it is before a storm. The wind whipped around the barn, tearing at everything in its path. Chairs scraped over the ground, tables toppled. It howled, shaking the bed until it floated up.

  Aunt Agrippina kept singing, even as the light burned her up.

  She collapsed in a pile of smoldering feathers and blue wool. As soon as she hit the ground, the bed dropped.

  Simon sat up, looking confused. His voice was raspy as he pulled the breathing tube from his nose. “Mom?”

  Pierce

  I couldn’t really see what was happening.

  Except for Ana getting shot.

  I saw that perfectly. Her body flew back, landing in a spray of blood. My hands were raw from trying to break free. I didn’t stop until her aunt healed her and she looked up, dazed but alive.

  When her aunt turned into a flash of light, she didn’t just save Simon, she gave her family a chance to save themselves. They sprang into action, kicking out at their captors even as Pritchard wheeled her son’s bed out of the way. Ana darted out of the fray toward me. Her hands were trembling as she grabbed the key ring to let me out. I wrapped my arms around her. Feathers filled my hands.

  I pulled back as her wings expanded. “Are you? When? Does that mean….”

  She smiled wryly. “I guess it means I love you, dumbass.”

  There were more shots and the sound of angry singing. Someone threw Jackson into a wall. “And this is how you show it?” I asked. “Outright assault?”

  “Yes, I decided a sonnet was so impersonal.”

  I kissed her quickly because I couldn’t help myself. And because she looked nervous—more nervous than when Pritchard had aimed the gun at her. As if she was still worried that I truly didn’t love her. “Don’t be stupid,” I murmured against her mouth. “No cupcake is that powerful.

  “Now let’s get everyone out of here.”

  We ducked behind the table, assessing the situation. “Pritchard got away.”

  Henry was helping Jackson to his feet. They grinned at each other wildly. “He’s gone,” I said. “My little brother is gone.”

  Ana winced. “Yes.”

  “He’s never going to stop now, is he?”

  “The magic made him forget he loved Rosalita, but that’s it. It twisted something inside of him, I think. He was drinking, I wasn’t using my own arrows. It’s not an exact science.”

  “You need to shoot him again.”

  She turned her head to stare at me. “Because it went so well the first time?”

  “You have more magic now. And your own arrows.”

  “Pierce.”

  “How else do I save him from himself? And you from him? What’s the alternative? I let him turn into a murderer? Because he’s well on his way. Wipe him clean.”

  She knew I was right. I could read it in her face. I plucked the last arrow from the quiver still strapped to her belt. “Make him forget all of this. Save him from himself. Please.”

  And then Jackson made the choice for us. He maneuvered himself behind Rosalita, a dagger in his hand.

  Ana’s arrow slammed into his shoulder and the knife jerked out of his hand. The arrowhead vanished in a wisp of light. I dove forward to catch him when he went limp.

  Ana

  I’d never been happier to see Liv and a bunch of her snarling fox-brothers in my life.

  Even when they were throwing punches at my head.

  Liv had managed to track me. I assumed Aunt Agrippina’s conflagration of magic had also acted as a beacon, no matter the supernatural deterrents that may have been put on the barn.

  They were followed by a flock of Vila who assumed they’d been running away. Aunt Aisha was in the lead, looking as feral as Morag. Ms. Pritchard had already slipped out with Simon. Henry was gone, too.

  Swans and foxes shot through the space, ripping doors open and knocking down partitions. There were cages in the back full of snarling and red fur. I had no idea which were true foxes and which were Renards trapped in their totem shape. Empty cages full of feathers were in another room. We were free.

  And I still had wings.

  They poked through the back of my dress. Mei Lin let out a hysterical giggle, limping to my side. “Nice look. You have to transform,” she said. “Quickly or you’ll get stuck.”

  The fight boiled around me, less like a true battle now and more like a bar brawl. It was mostly fistfights and bloody noses. But anything could spark it again. It could escalate before we made it to the other side of the barn.

  “Don’t you get it? We’re already stuck.” And I didn’t have a cloak anyway.

  Aunt Felicity floated through the melee as though it was happening in slow motion. She only had eyes for her feather cloak, hanging by a hook on the wall. When she finally wrapped it around her shoulders, there were tears on her face. This was why she’d betrayed us. She caught my gaze. “I had to do it.”

  “You sold us out.” But I remembered vividly singing to Edward as I wished for my own cloak.

  “I had to save myself,” she said sadly. “I had to let them in so I could get out.”

  “You got rid of the Renard blood. That’s how they hid this place. And how the foxes found Cygnet House.”

  She nodded and walked away, trailing feathers. I thought about following her but to do what? Yell? Punch her in the face? There was no time and it wouldn’t change anything. We were still in the middle of a battle. Ms. Pritchard had won. But we hadn’t lost. Not yet.

  I thought about my essay, about blood feuds
that never ended. About duels and single combat and choosing another way. Sometimes that took more strength.

  “Seriously,” Mei Lin said. “Do you want to walk around with wings forever?”

  “They’re kinda cute,” Pierce murmured.

  Just one last thing. Because my mother and Aunt Agrippina deserved better. We all did.

  I looked around until I saw a fire alarm set into the wall. Ms. Pritchard had been serious about protecting her son, outfitting the barn with security measures. Pierce had to hoist me on his back so I could reach it. I used the lighter I took from Jackson’s pocket and held the flame up to the alarm until it screeched, deafening us. I pressed my ear into my shoulder and refused to move the flame until everyone had stopped fighting to gape at us. Pierce dropped me to my feet.

  “I demand the right of single combat.”

  Silence. A confused murmur. The alarm had stopped, but I still felt it in my ears.

  “This isn’t some fantasy movie,” Liv pointed out crossly.

  Good.

  “Single combat with you,” I clarified. “If you win, the Renards win.”

  “When I win.” I’d tweaked her competitive streak.

  “If I win, the Vila win.”

  “Why bother?” Sonnet snapped. She was clutching her mother’s ruined cloak.

  “Because your mom gave herself up to save a boy she didn’t know. We can at least give ourselves up to save each other.”

  “Very poetic,” Pierce murmured. “But are you sure about this?”

  “This has to stop,” I continued loudly. “Now. And no one’s going to stop it for us. Only we can do that. Before someone else plays us for fools because we can’t stop fighting long enough to pay attention.”

  I didn’t know how to read Liv’s expression. She’d brought the Renards here. I needed to believe it was for more than just continuing the fight. There had to be more to us than this. Even if the only thing we had in common had been wanting to save Pierce. It was something. A start.

  She stepped forward, chin lifted. “I agree.”

  Lawson shot forward. “Are you kidding? You know—”

  She nudged him back hard enough that he almost tripped over his own foot. I stepped forward, swallowing nervously. I’d never fought with wings before. And I couldn’t help but seriously worry I’d be stuck like this forever. But I’d worry about that later.

  The others made a circle around us. Liv attacked first. She tried to head-butt me in the nose, but I shifted and our foreheads connected. I wondered if it was possible to break your eyebrow. I hurt all over; it was just one more ache. She attacked again and again.

  I spun, but it was awkward with wings. I caught a draft and went too fast and missed my opportunity for a good strike. I blocked her next punch, but only barely. I willed her to stop, to understand me.

  She hit me in the eye again instead.

  I lurched back and nearly lost my footing. My wings caught me, stretching painfully but pulling me up out of a sprawl. Our families growled and hissed and snarled and made more animal sounds than they did when they wore their totem shape.

  I caught Liv’s gaze and stepped back, lowering my fists.

  She tried to drop-kick me.

  I came out of the crouch, staring at her hard. I lowered my fists again.

  Her eyes darted to my loose hands. I widened my eyes pointedly. She paused. I nearly pumped my fist in joy, but it would probably be taken as an attack. I stepped back. Liv stepped back uncertainly.

  Our families looked at each other just as uncertainly.

  “You were going to let us beat each other bloody,” I said. “You encouraged it. You never once encouraged us to stop. Just like you chose to continue the feud, to feed it. But this generation is ending it. Today. Right now.” I looked at Sonnet, still holding her mother’s cloak. “In Romeo and Juliet, they don’t stop the feud until their kids die. We’re not doing that. No one else dies.”

  I put out my hand, praying Liv would shake it. She finally did after Pierce cleared his throat. She squeezed harder than was necessary, but I ignored it. “We already have a treaty,” she said. “How do you plan to enforce this pretty new peace of yours?”

  “Weregeld.” I could have kissed my stupid essay and all of the research that went into it. “Blood price. Whoever breaks the treaty pays a fine. An expensive one.”

  “We’ll be broke by next week,” Liv predicted.

  “But not broken.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ana

  The swans came from everywhere.

  My aunts stood in a circle around the cabin, singing a song that had the wind chasing itself over the roof. It pounded at the shingles and they soothed it away. It howled, trying to find its way inside the house, and they pulled it back like a naughty child. The song was soft but insistent, like water on the shore of a troubled lake.

  Aunt Aisha wrapped my blue cloak around my shoulders and all I could focus on was the length of my spine and how best to twist it around a pair of wings. My body scrambled to catch up but there were songs to be sung, ceremonies to perform. Tradition.

  Each of my aunts and the cousins who’d already shifted plucked one of their own feathers for my new cloak. Aunt Aisha presented me with spools of white thread and long silver antique needles.

  “I don’t have any feathers,” I admitted. There was a hysterical edge to my voice. “I burned them.”

  Aunt Aisha went gray. “You did what?”

  “You said there were lots of ways to fly.”

  She didn’t look mad, just shocked enough to fall over. I had my aunts’ donated feathers in my hand. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. I’d done this to myself.

  “Ana.” She sat down hard on the garden wall. “No.”

  “We’ll find more,” one of my aunts declared.

  “There’s no time,” Aisha said. “Look at her.”

  “No one told me this could even happen,” I said in a small voice. I had wings for crying out loud. Actual wings. So much for graduating high school.

  “Because no one ever fights the swan so hard that it has to take over,” she pointed out. “Except for you.”

  “No offense, but I’m not going to give up and let my girlfriend eat fish heads in the woods.”

  Morag hissed at that, but I barely heard her.

  Pierce.

  Pierce was here.

  Holding a basket of swan feathers.

  Mei Lin stood beside him, grinning. “I let him in,” she said. “He wouldn’t stop calling my cell.”

  He stepped closer to me, half smiling. “I have feathers for you.”

  There was still blood on his hands and rips in his clothes from being locked in a cage. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “How did you even find this many?” I whispered.

  “I started collecting them the day you told me you burned your cloak feathers.”

  I swallowed, too many emotions clogging up my throat. He pushed the basket into my hands. “I ate your cupcakes,” he said. “And I still love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  It was as if there was something frozen inside me and now it was melting. He loved me. After everything. I wasn’t too late, after all.

  I was very sure that I could fly now, even without wings. I’d never felt full of light like this before. Was I glowing, like you do when you hold your hand up to the sun? If I kissed him now, would brightness pour out of me?

  “Hurry,” Aisha interrupted. “Before the moon sets and it’s too late.”

  I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to wrap myself around Pierce and not let go.

  Instead, I sat on the floor of my bedroom and sewed long white feathers to the blue cloak of my girlhood. It was soft and worn, the hem torn in one spot from catching on a thorn tree, a smear of Renard blood on the hood. The spines of the feathers were surprisingly strong. The needle caught, and I tugged hard and blood welled on my fingertips. I began to wrap them instead, adding beads and pendants from my jewelry box. I snipp
ed and knotted and bled some more until I was left with a strange cloak of blue bristling with feathers over the shoulders and around the hood.

  I finally had my swan cloak.

  And Pierce.

  The aunts were waiting for me outside.

  The sun had set and the fields trembled with crickets and mice and the solitary hunt of owls. Women in white dresses led me into the shadows, still singing. The pond behind the house glimmered with moonlight. I was aware of everything, the scratch of grass against my ankles, the smell of wood smoke from a far-off farm, the first star emerging.

  The water lapped at my toes. The pond was meant to cushion my fall if I plummeted to my death. Aisha assured me that had never happened. I assured her I was developing a fear of heights.

  Swans drifted nearby, silent and serene. I didn’t know who they were, but I knew the black swan who took off, splashing us. Her wingspan was enormous, her feet skimming the water as she gained momentum. Aunt Sarafina had worked for a bird sanctuary once, gathering feathers from a black swan for her own cloak. The city sometimes released black swans now, too, and the little cousins fought over the rare feathers.

  Aisha slipped a silver chain around my neck. “It’s family tradition that we are linked together. In the old stories, swan siblings are connected by silver chains.”

  I touched the clear quartz shaped like an arrowhead.

  “It’s easier if you don’t fight it,” Aisha added. “It’s instinct.”

  The cloak was heavy in my hands, quivering with feathers. I flung it over my shoulders the way I’d seen Sasha do on the same night Jackson and Eric had found us. It was a lifetime ago. The cloak lightened as it settled over my shoulders, as if it was melting into me.

  I ran into the pond, alarm fluttering in the back of my throat. Needles pierced my back. My neck stretched. I was running into the water now and stumbled, but it was too late, something else already had hold of me. Nature, magic; call it what you will, it was stronger than I was. I opened my mouth, but it was a beak and I didn’t recognize the sound coming out of me. My wings were heavy and I flapped them, but it just knocked me sideways.