Lara shivered. Under the Rule, only Masters had the authority to project their spirits into other creatures. The Gift was too close to the demonic power of possession, too much like usurping free wil , to be considered quite safe.
Even Masters were restricted to using it on birds, fel ow children of the air.
She glanced at the large golden-eyed raptor in the corner.
“They do that . . . here?”
“Not so much. Al of the Masters at least try it. Most don’t have the knack. And even fewer have the inclination.”
Raising her arm, the keeper pressed against the bird’s haunches until it either had to step back or be pushed from its perch. Lara held her breath as, with a disgruntled flap, the bird hopped onto Moon’s glove.
F o r g o t t e n s e a 7 7
Moon stroked its breast. “A lot of our birds come to us because they’ve been injured—trapped, maybe, or shot.
That’s why they leave us alone, the Masters. They want to fly, but they can’t stand to be reminded they’re no different than my birds.”
“Hunted?” Lara ventured.
The keeper met her gaze, her vague blue eyes suddenly sharp and clear. “Caged.”
Lara stared, speechless. She had a mental flash of Justin, lean and golden, balancing against the bright blue sky, plunging into the sea in a flourish of foam and daring. Free.
Until now.
She moistened her dry lips. “But . . . the birds are al freed eventual y. When they’re wel enough to survive on their own.”
“That’s what they teach in your life science unit, is it?”
Lara nodded slowly. She had never questioned the school masters’ expertise.
“It’s true for some. The ones that aren’t hurt too badly to be rehabilitated and released.” Another sharp glance, bright with pity or derision. “Or so used to being locked up and hand fed they can’t adjust to life outside.”
Lara’s heart thumped. The tawny raptor on Moon’s arm watched her with wicked, golden eyes.
“What about him?” she asked. “What wil happen to him?”
“Tuari?” The keeper stroked the bird’s bronze plumage.
He opened his beak softly against her fingers. “He won’t have an easy time of it. He doesn’t belong here. He’s not like the others.”
Not human. Not nephilim either.
“What difference does it make?” Lara asked fiercely. “If he needs care.”
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V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
“Oh, we can care for him. But he doesn’t have a place here.
Or out there. The others are al native species, hawks and owls. Tuari’s a golden eagle. God knows what brought him to us, but he’s total y out of his range, poor boy.” The keeper’s eyes clouded again. “Even if I set him free, he’d be lost.”
*
*
*
Moon’s words hung in the air like the smel of newts, pungent and impossible to ignore. They haunted Lara as she raked flight pens and scrubbed birdcages, breaking her nails and her heart.
She rubbed her forehead, but the words kept circling, picking, attacking. They kept her company at dinner when no one else would. They whispered in the carrels during evening study and fol owed her up the stairs after lights out.
She held on to the banister as she climbed. The darkness of the stairwel suited her mood. After her so-cal ed period of reflection, she was dirty and exhausted and more confused than ever. What she needed was a hot shower and an uninterrupted night’s sleep. Everything would look better in the morning.
Including Justin?
She stopped, a tight, fluttery feeling in her chest, trying to remember what Miriam had said. Forty-eight hours to recover from the concussion. And then what?
She dragged herself the rest of the way to her room. She closed and locked the door. Stripping her filthy T-shirt over her head, she dropped it with a sigh to the floor.
As a proctor, she had her own closet-sized bathroom.
F o r g o t t e n s e a 79
She turned the shower as hot as she could stand, letting the pulse pound her tight muscles, the water sluice over her head, desperate to rinse away the stink of the mews and her lingering sense of guilt. Steam bil owed in the air, slicked the tiles, condensed on the mirror. She breathed in the moist, shampoo-scented air. Released it, expel ing tension on a sigh.
Wrapped in a towel, she opened the door to her room.
The window was open. Night whispered against her bare skin. Her body hummed with awareness.
A sound, a breath, a disturbance in the air . . .
Her mind blanked in terror. It was her nightmare, a man in her room, in the dark.
She sucked in her breath.
“Don’t scream,” Justin said from the direction of her bed.
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H e c o u l d s e e i n t h e d a r k . “ C at ’ s e y e s , ” C a p -
tain Rick had said the first time he’d watched Justin climb the rigging at night.
He could see her now, Lara, silhouetted against the slanting light from the bathroom, the quick rise of her breasts above the knotted towel, her smal hands curled into fists at her sides.
