Free Flock by Wendy Delson Page A

something I learned from your
amma,
something I sang to you when you were a baby.”
    “I don’t remember hearing the words before now. They’re pretty,” I added. “Do you know where Amma learned the song, or how old it is?”
    My mom looked up and out the window, as if trying to pull memories from the sky. “No, and no, though I suppose it’s quite old and that the English is a translation. Almost all of Amma’s lullabies were. Leira seems to like it, anyway.”
    Indeed, she had settled and was bicycling her legs in a more playful show of vitality. Another good sign, if you asked me.
    “Now that you’re up,” my mom continued, “Stanley said there are some news reports you might be interested in. He’s been glued to the TV all morning.”
    Uh-oh.
    “What kind of news?”
    “More sinkholes like the one out at the Snjossons’ property.”
    I didn’t stick around to hear it from her. I headed downstairs and straight for the family room, where Stanley was — coffee cup in one hand and remote in the other — camped out in front of the television.
    “What’s going on?” I asked.
    “The weirdest thing,” he said.
    Again, the
weird
word. I almost growled.
    “Three more very large ones, like out at Jack’s place, have been reported: one in Australia, one in Chile, and another in British Columbia. The timing is odd, almost like a cluster, but they’re too far apart to be related. Luckily, they’ve all been in remote areas. No injuries, thank goodness.”
    I left Stanley channel surfing and grabbed my phone out of my backpack. Jack picked up on the second ring.
    “Have you heard?” I asked.
    “Yes. We’re crawling with reporters again. My dad’s at the site with a news crew as we speak.”
    “So what’s their angle?” I asked.
    “There isn’t one, really. Just that it’s a coincidence.”
    His mom called him outside, cutting our conversation short. Next I retrieved a text from Penny. Her
More holes. Freaky huh?
message didn’t do much to muzzle the sirens going off in my head. Jack claimed Midas had never liked that area. What if it had been a power place? What if they had all been power places? Were they portals? Vulnerable portals? If Marik was to be trusted and it wasn’t Vatnheim, no need to ponder who else would try to get through. The fury we’d wrought in Brigid had been apoplectic, a word that shared a whole lot of letters with apocalyptic. And I left nothing to coincidence anymore.

That evening, as I gazed through Afi’s front window about to flip the sign to CLOSED , a face pressed up against the glass.
    “Jesus!”
    I stumbled backward, twisting my ankle in the process.
    Jinky opened the door and stood in front of me, while I braced myself against the nearby newsstand and rubbed at my already throbbing foot.
    “What the hell?” I said. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”
    “Hardly. Just thought it was time we spoke alone.” She swallowed a smile, obviously oblivious to my colorless cheeks and physical injury. “Can we take a walk?”
    To my way of thinking, “a walk” was the prelude to bad news, a breakup, or the pirate’s plank. Besides, my ankle hurt. “We’re alone here.”
    “There’s somewhere I have in mind,” she said.
    Stranger Danger 101: Never willingly go to a second location.
    “And you’re done here, right?” she continued.
    “Yes.” My hesitance made the word sound like more of a question than a reply.
    “Then get your things and let’s go.”
    A few minutes later, I was following Jinky down the darkened Main Street.
    “Should we take my car?” I asked, struggling to keep up.
    “It’s nice out,” she said, which — as far as I was concerned — was a non sequitur.
    An evident proponent of the work-it-off school of pain management, she took the corner at Fern gaining speed. Something in her long, purposeful strides announced that conversation was curtailed until arrival. It set an ominous tone. I was surprised, therefore, when our