This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

Author:Victoria Schwab
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-05-12T04:00:00+00:00

Kate spread her tools on the bed.

Duct tape (the utility of which really couldn’t be overestimated), half a dozen copper-threaded zip ties, and a set of iron spikes the length of her forearm (at the very least, they might slow him down). She considered the meager selection, feeling like she was going into battle with a toothpick, then packed the tools into her backpack and headed out.

She was halfway through the kitchen, shrugging on her Colton jacket, when she noticed Callum Harker sitting on the couch.

She’d barely seen her father since the trials in the basement, but there he was, arms stretched along the back of the sleek leather sofa. A step toward the couch, and she realized he wasn’t alone—Sloan was kneeling at his side, head bowed and stiff as a statue, or a corpse. Harker was speaking softly to the Malchai—Kate couldn’t hear the words—and she hesitated, feeling like an intruder. But this was her house, too. She fetched a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee, making no effort to be quiet. Harker clearly heard. He made a short motion with his hand, and Sloan withdrew and went to stand by the window. Morning light streamed in against his blue-white skin, and seemed to go straight through it.

“Good morning, Katherine,” said her father, lifting his voice.

Kate took a long sip of coffee, ignoring the way it burned her throat. “Morning.”

She imagined him asking her how she was settling in, imagined telling him that she didn’t need Sloan keeping tabs. Maybe he would ask her about school, and she could tell him that she’d met a boy and planned to bring him home. But of course, he didn’t ask her any of those things, so she couldn’t answer. Instead she said, “You’re up early.”

“Actually,” he said, “I’ve been up all night.” His arms slid from the couch as he stood. “I figured I would stay up a little longer to see you off.”

Hope flickered through her, followed almost immediately by distrust. “What for?” she challenged, blowing on the coffee.

Harker crossed the room, moving with the sure steps of someone who expected the world to get out of his way.

“I’m your father,” he said, as if that were an explanation. “Besides, I wanted to give you something.” He held out his hand. “Something more fitting for a Harker.”

Kate looked down and saw a new pendant glittering in his palm. It looked like a large coin on the end of a thin chain, the V embossed and filled with nine garnets, each shining like a drop of blood. “The metal is silver,” he said. “More delicate than iron, but still pure.”

Kate tried to find the meaning in the gesture. The trap. “Was it my mother’s?”

“No,” said her father sternly. “It was mine. And now it’s yours.” He crossed behind her and swept her hair aside to unfasten her standard medal. “And one day . . . ,” he said, sliding the silver chain around her throat. “Perhaps you’ll have more than my pendant.

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