She headed toward where the Rovers had disappeared, knowing it was pointless. Did she think Consul Hess would change his mind? But where else could she go? She walked with feet she didn’t recognize on earth that looked like giraffe print.

She hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps when she started to cough again. Soon she grew too light-headed to stand. But it wasn’t just her lungs rejecting the outside. Her eyes and nose streamed. Her throat burned and her mouth filled with hot saliva.

She’d heard all the stories about the Death Shop, like everyone else. A million ways to die. She knew of the packs of wolves as smart as men. She’d heard of the flocks of crows that picked living people to pieces, and Aether storms that behaved like predators. But the worst death in the Death Shop, she decided, was rotting alone.

Chapter 8 - Peregrine

Chapter 8

PEREGRINE

Perry watched as his older brother strode into the clearing. Vale paused and lifted his head, scenting the wind. He held the buck’s rack in his hand, a huge snarl of horns, thick as a small tree. Impressive. Perry couldn’t deny it. Vale searched the crowd and spotted Perry, then Talon at his side.

Perry became aware of a dozen things as his brother came forward. The Dweller device and the apple, both wrapped in plastic, deep inside his satchel. His knife at his hip. His bow and quiver slung across his back. He noticed the way the crowd quieted, easing into a circle around him. He sensed Talon shift at his side, drawing back. And he scented tempers. Dozens of bright scents, charging the air as much as the Aether above.

“Hello, Son.” Vale ached, gazing at his boy. Perry saw it in his eyes. He also saw the swelling around Vale’s nose, but wondered if anyone else would notice.

Talon raised a hand in reply, keeping back. He didn’t want to show weakness in front of his father. How he hurt, both from grief and illness. Once it had been Perry hiding from his father behind Vale’s legs. But hiding didn’t work around Scires. Scents carried.

Vale raised the rack. “For you, Talon. Choose a horn. We’ll make a handle for a new knife. Would you like that?”

Talon shrugged. “All right.”

Perry glanced at the knife at Talon’s belt. It was Perry’s old blade. As a boy, he had carved feathers into the handle, making a design fit for him and later, Talon. He saw no reason for him to have a new one.

Vale finally met his gaze. He looked at the bruise on Perry’s face, suspicion flashing in his eyes. Vale would know he hadn’t given it to Perry. He hadn’t landed any solid punches that night across the table.

“What happened to you, Peregrine?”