Free Sing Sweet Nightingale by Erica Cameron Page A

grab a chunk of amethyst and rub my thumb along the edges of the crystal, trying to calm down. It doesn’t work.
    I take a shaky breath and try to ignore the burning in my eyes. I don’t care that my parents kicked me out again. I don’t . Horace has taken better care of me in the last three months than they ever did.
    Remembering always dredges up too much to shove it back in a cage—too much anger, too much pain, too many of the memories that came after. So many of those memories include J.R. Body trembling, I cross the room and dig through one of my boxes until I find it.
    This picture is one of the only ones I have of J.R. The kid looked a lot like me. The same white-blond hair and blue eyes. Well, we used to have the same eyes before I came back with a demon’s vision and powers. He’s on my shoulders, his tiny arms wrapped under my chin like a hatband to keep from falling off, and he’s laughing. He was always laughing. And he could always make me laugh.
    I have it because my mother threw it at me when I stopped her from lighting my shit on fire. The original frame and glass shattered when it smacked onto the pavement. The broken shards left little cuts and divots all over the picture, the worst one a long scratch that strikes straight across my chest. I screamed at her for throwing it then, but now? I probably should’ve thanked her. The only other picture I have of us is the one they used in the newspaper article about J.R.’s death.
    Staring at that picture reminds me why I’m here. There are answers in Swallow’s Grove. K.T. is connected somehow, and Mariella has to know something. Maybe she’s another survivor; maybe she’s a potential victim. Whatever it is, I have to find her. I have to find her before someone else gets killed because of a world most people don’t know exists.

Six
    Mariella
    Thursday, August 28 – 12:22 PM
    This aria is getting on my nerves. I’ve been listening to it on repeat for hours, but for some reason, the cabaletta is giving me trouble. No matter how many times I listen to it, I can’t make the notes stick in my head. Giving up, I start reading a new book, letting the aria continue to loop and hoping the song will sink into my brain on its own.
    The front door opens and closes, but I don’t look up. My mother has students all day.
    “Dana?”
    The voice pulls me away from the story. I slide a bookmark into place and pull one of my earbuds out. My father is home? He’s never home this early unless something is wrong.
    I reach the doorway as he passes. He’s nearly skipping. Skipping .
    My mother comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. The concern in her expression doesn’t last long. She doesn’t have a chance to say hello before he wraps his arms around her waist and spins her in a circle. Squealing and laughing, she holds onto his shoulders until he puts her down and kisses her.
    “You. Are. A. Genius,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss.
    “Yes, I know.” She laughs, her cheeks flushing. “What did I do this time, though?”
    “I took your advice. Went over to introduce myself to Lawson.”
    “How’d it go?”
    “Amazing,” he says, grinning wide. “They’re coming for dinner tomorrow.”
    “They?” My mother’s head tilts a little. “Who else is with him?”
    My father blinks. “Oh. Um, his name is Hudson. He’s young, maybe a little older than you, Mari. I think he’s Lawson’s grandson.”
    He glances at me, so I shrug. Hudson will probably see me the same way the kids at school do—the freakish mute girl.
    Lines appear around my father’s eyes, and his smile dims a little. Maybe he’s realizing he’ll have to explain me to the man he’s trying to impress? It passes, and his smile brightens again.
    “We might be in luck,” he says to my mother and me. “Apparently, he bought the house out from under his son at the last second. If I can come up with a proposal, I might have a shot.”
    My mother gasps and