Wings (A Black City Novel) by Elizabeth Richards

Author:Elizabeth Richards [Richards, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-12T00:00:00+00:00

19.

EDMUND

“HOW CAN MY GRANDFATHER be a Lupine? He doesn’t look anything like you,” I say. Except, I realize he does. He has the same steel-gray eyes as Alaric and he’s tall too.

“Hector’s a hybrid,” Alaric explains. “His father was human.”

I furrow my brow. So if my grandfather’s a hybrid, like Theora, that means I’m a . . . what? They don’t even have a word for someone like me: half Darkling, with a generous pinch of human and a dash of Lupine. Blend ingredients together to make Edmund Rose.

“I thought you knew,” Alaric says.

“No,” I mutter. “Grandfather’s never spoken about my great-grandparents, so I had no idea one of them was a Lupine.” All I know is that he was orphaned as a baby and raised by an uncle in Carrow Falls, who died of yellowpox when my grandfather was just fifteen. He moved to Amber Hills and worked as an apprentice for one of the original members of the Guild, got married when he was nineteen, then took the preacher’s job after his young bride died while giving birth to my mom. And that’s everything I know. Why didn’t he tell me what he was? My blood simmers, stung by his betrayal, but it also explains why he’s been so accepting of me all these years. We’re the same. Freaks.

“So who was my great-grandmother?” I ask.

Alaric ushers us toward the stone building that his brother, Penn, and Kieran just went into. Ulrika pushes past me, bumping my shoulder—I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not; I might be part of the pack now, but that doesn’t mean she trusts me—and enters the house before me. Theora gives me a reassuring smile as we follow her.

The hallway is cramped and dark and cluttered with furniture. Alaric slings his jacket over the coatrack by the door before leading us to the living room at the end of the corridor. We pass a reception room along the way. The door is open, and I stop midstride. Lying on the table is Naomi’s body, shrouded in a muslin cloth and surrounded by pine wreaths. Ulrika shuts the door, grief burning in her silver eyes.

“We can’t cremate her until tomorrow’s full moon,” Theora says. “It’s Lupine tradition.”

“I’m really sorry,” I mutter, my words falling flat.

Theora frowns. “It’s not your fault.”

No, it’s my grandfather’s fault for agreeing to let the Lupines take our people to give to Icarus to feed on. I still don’t understand why he felt the need to be so underhanded about this whole situation and hide the Darklings’ return from everyone, including me. If he’d just been honest, maybe Catherine and Naomi would still be alive.

We head into the living room. The floors are all made of stone, so there’s a cold, damp chill in the air. Old photographs and paintings of Lupines cram every inch of wall space.

“Who are all these people?” I ask.

“Our pack,” Alaric says, lifting a pile of books from a chair and indicating for me to sit down.

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