4
CLAIRE
The wind whips past my face — so cold — and the leaves from the tree I’m clinging to cast dappled shadows over my back. The sky is a brilliant blue against the white of the house, a white so bright it looks as if the sun itself is sitting on the verdant lawn. Quiet now, but I can still hear the thunderous crash echoing in my eardrums. What are they doing in there? Perhaps they’ll kill each other. It would certainly make my task easier so long as they don’t kill the Warrior.
And even he does not know I’m here. I have more than a few tricks prepared, but this is my best one.
Well, until this weekend.
I blink at the house. Silas has his bedroom blinds open; Markula too. I wish I could laugh at that. A Warrior always believes in his own superiority.
But he’ll soon find out he is
