“I wish we could stay the same,” whispered August.
She gave him a rueful smile. “Nobody gets to stay the same, little brother.” She nodded at Kate. “Not even them.” She took his hand and folded it in hers, the way she had with the traitor’s back at the compound, just before she took his soul. “Please come home.”
“I can’t, Ilsa. Not yet.” His eyes went to the bed.
“Do you care about her?” The question was simple, curious.
“I care about us. About our city. Someone tried to kill her. To frame us. To break the truce.” A shadow swept across Ilsa’s face.
I don’t want to burn again.
“She’s an innocent,” he added. “I’m just trying to keep her safe.”
Ilsa’s features smoothed. “All right,” she said. “Then I’ll help.”
August shook his head. “No. Please go home, Ilsa.”
I need you safe, he thought. There is too much to lose. I can’t risk you.
A small crease formed between her eyes. “But someone has to keep the shadows back.”
August tensed. “What shadows?”
“The ones with teeth.”
He sat up. “Malchai?”
Ilsa nodded. “They are coming. They are on their way.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel the cracks they make and—”
He took her by the shoulders. “But how do you know?”
“—the man downstairs, he told me,” she went on, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It spilled right out of his mouth, little brother. He couldn’t keep it in. He went back and forth, back and forth, but then he broke, like all things do. . . .”
August let go, pushed his hands through his hair. “Kate,” he said. “Kate, wake up.”
She made a muffled sound but didn’t stir.
Ilsa slid to her feet, and crossed to the bed. “No, Ilsa, wait.” But it was too late, she was already reaching out, wrapping her fingers around Kate’s shoulder. She must have squeezed it, because Kate gasped and jerked forward, the lighter in her hand transforming into the small, sharp knife, the silver edge pressed to Ilsa’s throat. His sister looked down at the girl, but didn’t move.
“You’re hurt,” said Ilsa simply.
“Who are you?” demanded Kate.
“We have to go,” said August, pulling on his shirt. But Kate was still staring at Ilsa as if entranced. Which made sense; Ilsa was entrancing. “This is my sister, Ilsa. Ilsa, Kate.”
Kate’s eyes went to the stars pouring down Ilsa’s bare arms. “You’re the third one.”
Ilsa cocked her head. “No,” she said sweetly, “I’m the first.”
Kate lowered the knife, her free hand against her injured stomach. August could see the pain etched into her features. “What’s going on?”
“Malchai. Coming. Now.”
Kate pitched to her feet, swaying before Ilsa caught her. Kate stared down at the place where the Sunai’s fingers met her skin.
“Listen for me, Ilsa,” August pulled on his shoes, slung the violin over his shoulder. His sister pressed her ear to the wall. “Tell me if they—”
“They’re here.”
August paled, caught the distant sound of steps, the wet rattle of voices, the scent of rot. She was right. Kate swore, maneuvering her shirt back on. She headed for the door, and August took a step, but turned back when his sister didn’t follow. “Come on.”
“Go, little brother,” she said, her ear still to the wall. “I will stay here until you are gone.”
“It isn’t safe,” he said, holding out his hand.
But Ilsa reached up, and touched his cheek instead. “Safe,” she said with a hollow smile. “That is a pretty word.”
“Come on,” snapped Kate beside the door.
“But—”
“Don’t worry, August. I’m not afraid of the dark.”
Our sister has two sides.
He took his Ilsa’s face in his hands. “Please be careful.”
They do not meet.
“Go,” she said. “Before the cracks catch up.”
Kate had an iron spike out by the time they reached the hall.
The lighter’s hidden knife was well and good for threatening schoolgirls, but it wasn’t long enough to bypass the ribs of a Malchai and hit the heart. She hadn’t had a chance to clean the spike since the attack at Colton, and the edge was still crusted with blackish blood.
August was there at her side, one hand up as if he thought she would fall. As if he planned to catch her. There was an elevator and two stairwells, one on either end of the hall. A one-in-three chance of choosing wrong, but she wasn’t about to get caught in a box. Pain burned across her stomach as she raced for the nearest set of stairs.
August kept looking back toward the room and the other Sunai, with her sad eyes and her skin covered in stars.
“She’ll be fine,” said Kate as they plunged into the stairwell, and it came out sounding hollow even though the girl wasn’t just a girl of course, she was a monster. She’d made the Barren, torn a hole in the world. Surely she could face a few Malchai, if it came to it.