Page 13 of Blood Sings (Beyond the Gloom #1)

The night was quiet. Too quiet. The Stalkers were lying low, giving us a rare moment of peace before dawn. I’d sent out the usual bullshit reports—claiming we were patrolling like good little soldiers.

As if.

Why pursue ghosts when there were none to chase?

Fuck them. The new projector was on his way, and if he thought I’d break my back for him on day one, he’d better think again.

A projector actually coming to the frontlines—haven’t seen that in a while. Most of them preferred to stay behind the walls, safe in their command posts while barking orders through the Harmonization and pretending they hadn’t sent us to die. Either this one was crazy brave or had something to prove.

I breathed in the crisp spring air, my eyes drawn to the sky. Stars blazed across the darkness, Orion and his cosmic buddies—Sirius and Pleiades—putting on a show. The air was thick with the heady mimosa scent of starneedle blooms, their bell-shaped flowers glowing like tiny lanterns.

Book in hand, I strode through the iron gate, following the commotion at the front of the house. We’d finished dinner in the backyard. Our little fortress of trees and ivy-choked walls wrapped around us like nature’s own bulletproof vest. Not that it’d protect us from Stalkers. Those bastards could sniff out a paper cut from the next ward over.

Five shots splintered the night’s quiet, sending nightjars into a panicked flurry. Our pet zmeu erupted from a patch of white blooms with a yelp that could wake the dead. The thing was a walking weapon—charcoal hide bristling with ridges and spikes sharp enough to gut a man. It took to the air for a hot second before crash-landing in a tangle of limbs and wings. Yellow eyes, glowing like hellfire, locked onto mine before it scuttled off into the shadows of an evergreen. The little beast could never sit still for more than a heartbeat.

I picked up my pace, eager to see what kind of mess my guild was making.

The grand portico echoed with gunshots and laughter—their own little sharpshooting tournament in full swing. Just another night of draining the Republic’s coffers nice and empty. After all, what else were those deep pockets good for?

“That’s one shot on His High- ass , Prince Lev, and two on Wimpy Princess Anastasia!” Gale’s voice boomed. “Quakelord’s racking up seven points!”

I rounded the corner just as Quakelord dropped to his knees, his straight alder-wood hair dancing in the breeze. He threw his arms up like some tragic hero in a terrible play.

“Ah, shit! Two misses!” he groaned, fingers flying over his firearm and stripping it down. “Bullets, man. Like writing poetry with a sledgehammer.”

I bit back a grin. Fucking drama queen.

“Stop whining!” Gale snapped, rushing to pick up the fallen cans Hummingbird had scribbled caricature portraits of the key originals on with a marker. “Phoenix! You’re up!”

Phoenix sprawled on the grass, fanning her freckled face. “Come on, give me a break! Next! Who’s next?”

A smile spread across my face. Watching my friends cut loose was a rare treat. We didn’t get many nights like this—just us, no projector breathing down our necks, no Stalkers. I melted into the shadows, leaning against a column propping up the balcony. From here, I had a perfect view of the circus.

And if I was being honest? It felt damn good to see them like this. Alive. Happy. Even if it was just for one night.

Pearl stepped up, peeling back her knitted scarf to reveal a grin that spelled trouble. Three rapid-fire shots, three cans down.

“Ten points!” Gale hollered, scrambling to reset the tins, this time in a tower.

Terraknight clapped Pearl on the shoulder as he took his stance. A mountain of a man, his midnight skin and raven hair melded with the darkness. My right hand, my vice-captain, my brother in all but blood. A sharp click punctuated the silence as he loaded his pistol.

“Raising the stakes, Gale?” he asked, eyes narrowing on the targets.

As he aimed, I scanned the eerie silence beyond our little sanctuary. Nothing but the usual whispers, voices just out of earshot. To the west, something growled and bolted, wings flapping in panic. Closer, a breeze whispered through dry leaves and stubborn grass, carrying the scent of nicotiana, gunpowder, and our recent feast.

I snorted, recalling Hummingbird and Quakelord’s sorry state after yesterday’s hunt. They’d blamed the Limuses, but we’d all heard the wild boar that sent them ass-over-teakettle into a ravine. Their misfortune, our luck.

Tonight’s dinner had started with friendly jabs and ended with everyone gorging like bears prepping for hibernation. When Terraknight worked his magic in the kitchen, even fresh blood couldn’t compete.

More shots cracked the air. Cans pinged and clattered, tumbling down the slope.

“Holy shit,” Gale whistled, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder. “Five for five, dead center. You’re on fire, Terraknight!”

Hummingbird’s dove-gray wings stirred up a mini-cyclone. “No way,” he groaned, tugging at his honey-brown curls. “That’s insane.”

At seventy-five, the kid still looked like he was fresh out of puberty. I’d known him long enough to know that his lanky frame wasn’t filling out anytime soon.

Gale lunged for a runaway can, flaring her bronze wings as she hissed, “You little shit—”

“Ember!” Phoenix bounced up, scooping up cans from the grass. “Show ‘em how it’s really done!”

Ember snatched a rifle from the rack, golden hair whipping in the wind. She strode back fifty yards, her white dress billowing, and dropped to the ground in one fluid motion. “Watch this,” she called, squinting through the scope. “Phoenix, forget stacking. Throw ‘em!”

I left my shadowy perch, silent steps carrying me behind Gale, who had Hummingbird by the ankle and was threatening to introduce him to gravity if he didn’t quit hovering.

Phoenix started juggling cans, all fumbling hands and determination. One sailed wide, smacking Hummingbird square in the forehead with a dull thunk .

He staggered, wings tucking in reflexively. “Hey!” he yelped, just as another can hit his chest.

“Nice catch, birdbrain!” Quakelord’s laugh boomed across the yard.

The third can clattered at my feet, betraying my presence.

Gale’s head swiveled, fixing me with a glare that could freeze hell over. Despite her youthful appearance, she was only a decade my junior. She should know better.

I wagged my head, warning her off, but she couldn’t resist.

“Captain’s sneaking around again!” she hollered.

Snitch.

I pulled up my hood and slipped between the two winged troublemakers. Crossing the lawn, I thumbed open my book to the dog-eared page. The outdated text was riddled with errors, but it was the only one I hadn’t memorized yet.

“Your turn, Harbinger!” Ember called out from the clamor of swords, crossbows, and rusty gun barrels as she stowed her rifle. “Phoenix, hustle those cans before he bails!”

I turned the page, only to find the text cut off mid-sentence. It made no sense.

“Fuck!” I snarled, clenching my jaw.

Few things got under my skin these days, but I’d trade a chunk of my soul to find the bastard who’d cut out that page and introduce their face to my fist. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Half my books were incomplete. Still, I lugged them everywhere, like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. That old library I’d stumbled on two decades back had been my salvation.

I slammed the book shut, drew my gun, and fired without looking. Didn’t bother to check if I’d hit anything. That missing page was driving me insane.

“Holy shit,” Quakelord whined. “He just cleared them all. It’s no fun when you don’t even try!”

Gale emerged from the house, carrying two chipped mugs of kafea . It wasn’t real coffee, but we made do with our brew of roasted dandelion root and ground chickpeas.

“Let it go,” she said, her dark waves now dry and flowing.

Petite but commanding, Gale was everyone’s big sister. Those copper wings set her apart, but even without them, she’d turn heads in any crowd. Nut-brown eyes, golden skin, and cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood. If there were any sculptors left in this world, they’d kill for the chance to carve her likeness.

She circled the fountain, set down the mugs, and scooped up the baby zmeu from the basin. It chirped and squirmed in her arms, so she let it loose.

“How’re you gonna explain this?” she asked, yanking back my hood.

I shrugged, brushing off the hard clench in my abdomen. If the Republic found out about me, we were all dead. I wasn’t only an enemy, I was the enemy, and with the new projector on his way, I was running out of options.

“I’ll cover it up for as long as I can,” I said, watching our pet paw at the laces of my boot. “I’d rather die than let Pearl near me with that stinking dye again. Never lasts anyway.”

Gale sipped her kafea. “Any good?” She eyed my book.

“Not really,” I grunted. “Quiets the noise though.”

She nodded, a flicker of concern flashing in her eyes before she masked it with a tight smile. That was what I appreciated about Gale—no pity, just quiet understanding.

“Holy hell,” she gasped, her pupils dilating in shock. Her grip on my arm was like a vise. “Is that vanilla pudding? I haven’t smelled anything that sweet since…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Since Aerothria.”

I took in a long breath. “Peaches, too. And… leather?”

“Weird dessert, but I’ll take it any time.” She chuckled, flaring her nostrils. “Is that jasmine, or am I going crazy?”

“You’re not crazy,” I muttered. The scents grew stronger by the second.

I cocked my head, listening to the faint stirrings from the woods. The trees had devoured the Tenth Ward, swallowing the residential complex and stretching all the way to the National Library in the Eighth.

Dawn Park used to be all manicured lawns and cookie-cutter brick houses. Now it was a proper parkland where white picket fences died and vegetation reclaimed everything in sight. Dense underbrush choked the eroded roads, oaks and poplars towering over blue-green pines and cypresses. Pre-war maps claimed forty acres, but the reality was closer to triple that. A hell of a lot of ground for trouble to hide in.

A crack echoed from the forest, followed by tumbling rocks and a whoop of laughter. A carefree sound I hadn’t heard since the world went to shit nearly a century ago. Someone was coming, and they were in a hurry.

“What in the—” Hummingbird tensed, ready to launch skyward. His wings snapped open with a soft whoosh and spanned the width of the driveway. He and Gale were our eyes in the sky.

But this wasn’t a Stalker attack. This was something far worse.