Free Wings (A Black City Novel) by Elizabeth Richards

in the front row with the rest of the Langdon clan, a small frown on her lips. It’s no mistake they’re at the head of the congregation. The first four rows on the right-hand side of the aisle are reserved for the Guild—the wealthiest or most influential families in the town. Behind the Langdons are the O’Malleys, then the Kents, and finally the Cranfield family. It’s the Guild’s responsibility to uphold the word of His Mighty and protect our souls from impurity.
    Catherine’s wearing an expensive blue crinoline dress from her parents’ clothing store, and her wavy brown hair has been gently teased up into a chignon, which her mother keeps fussing over. Catherine irritably swats her mother’s hand away as Mrs. Langdon attempts to fix another loose curl. I get the sense that Catherine’s recent metamorphosis from plain little Caterpillar into this beautiful butterfly was entirely her mother’s doing.
    Patrick’s sitting beside her, his legs hidden by the voluminous layers of Catherine’s bell skirt, which is threatening to consume her whole family within its taffeta petticoats. He scowls, shifting position on the pew, clearly uncomfortable, which pleases me. Next to him is his father, Mr. Langdon, who is watching the service with rapt attention. He’s a handsome man with sandy-blond hair like Patrick’s, brown eyes and a neatly groomed beard.
    Catherine senses me looking at her, and turns her head slightly in my direction, offering a sad smile. She gives me a look that says
How are you?
We’ve known each other for so long, we can communicate in silent shorthand. I frown and shake my head a little.
Not so good.
I can’t get the image of Mrs. Hope being dragged out of the window from my mind. She lightly touches her heart and raises a worried brow, referring to the chest cramps I had that night on the wall. I shrug a little. I have no idea what caused them, but they haven’t returned. Patrick coughs lightly, and Catherine turns her attention back to the service. He stares daggers at me, and I look away.
    “However, we are not without blame for their deaths,” Grandfather continues. “After almost two decades of peace, we let our guard down, and now we are paying the price.”
    I gaze at Mrs. Hope’s shrouded body floating in the pool. If only I’d gotten there sooner, I might’ve been able to save her.
    “This being said, we must not look upon Mrs. Hope’s death as a tragedy, for she was suffering, and now walks in His Majesty’s eternal kingdom,” Grandfather continues, stepping down from the pulpit to the altar where a goblet and two bowls—one white, one red—awaits. “The Lupines may devour our bodies, but they cannot corrupt our souls, for we are pure of heart and spirit. It is this purity that protects us from the corruptions of evil. So I invite you all to come forward and drink from the sacred cup and be cleansed of your impurities.”
    The congregation silently files out of their seats and forms an orderly queue down the aisle. I duck into the line behind Catherine. In front of her are Patrick and his friends Drew and Harriet O’Malley. The siblings look very alike, which is unfortunate for Harriet. Although their long slim nose and tapered chin looks noble on Drew, it gives Harriet a shrewlike quality. Harriet turns to look at me. Unlike the other women in the town, she’s wearing pants and a boy’s shirt and waistcoat. A knife is strapped to her belt.
    “Way to go,
freak,
” she says to me in a loud whisper. “It takes a special kind of stupid to leave your post on the wall. Are you crazy or something?”
    “Like mother, like son,” Patrick drawls.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, my temper flaring.
    Patrick’s top lip curls up into an amused snarl.
    “It’s nothing, Edmund,” Catherine says, shooting a warning look at her brother. “Just some nonsense Mother was telling us.”
    “Which was?”
    She bites her bottom lip. “That your mother used to hear