Dante shrugged. “I told you,” he answered, his voice way too casual.

“Boring stuff. Politics and Human Science. Learning the names of world leaders and their laws and what they had for breakfast. Nothing nearly as exciting as your mornings.”

He ruffled my hair, knowing how much I hated that, and I swatted his arm away. It ended in a short scuffle on the mattress, with his arm wrapped around my head, mussing my hair, while I snarled and yelled at him to get off.

“Ember. Dante.” There was a short tap on the door, and Uncle Liam peered in, eyes narrowed. “We’re going to bed,” he stated, which meant it was now 11:30 p.m., on the dot. “Keep it down if you’re going to be awake much longer.”

“Yes, uncle,” we answered together, and Liam looked at me.

“Also, Ember. Your instructor called. She wants you at your session earlier than normal tomorrow, so set your alarm back an hour.”

“What? That means I’ll have to get up at five! ”

“Then you’d best go to bed soon,” Liam replied briskly, and shut the door.

I shoved Dante off, stood, and ran my fingers through my hair, fuming but still afraid he would hear my sudden, rapid heartbeat.

“Guess I’ll turn in, too,” I muttered, frowning at my twin to hide my unease. “Since I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn. and don’t give me that look. I don’t see your trainer dragging you out of bed at ungodly o’ clock.” He just grinned unsympathetically and watched me from the nest of rumpled blankets. I sighed. “What about you? When are you going to bed?”

Dante snorted. “I don’t know, Aunt Sarah. But I’ll be sure to tell you when I’m getting sleepy so you can read me a story.”

“Oh, shut up.” I turned and opened the door. “Smart-ass. Goodnight, Tweedle Dum.” A stupid nickname I’d latched onto when we’d first watched Alice in Wonderland as kids. I remembered being fascinated by the fat, bumbling cartoon twins, and started calling my brother by that name, just to annoy him. It had stuck ever since.

“Wait.” Dante looked up with a fake pleading expression. “Before you go, could you turn on my night-light and bring me a glass of water?”

I shut the door.

The house was quiet, cloaked in shadow. Normally, a pale, silvery light shone through the large bay windows from the moon outside, but tonight, the rooms seemed darker, more foreboding. I tiptoed across the hall to my room, making sure the light to Aunt Sarah and Uncle Liam’s bedroom was turned off. Dante’s light remained on, of course, but Dante wouldn’t barge into my room in the middle of the night.

Shutting my door, I flipped off the light and leaned against the wall for a second, my heart still pounding wildly. Up until this moment, I hadn’t really known if I was going to do this. Sneak out, break curfew, meet with a dangerous rogue dragon on a lonely bluff. Now, it wasn’t a question. Riley said there were things about Talon that I didn’t know, and I was suddenly very curious what those things were, but that wasn’t the only reason I was doing this. I was tired of Talon, my instructor, my training, and their endless rules. I needed to fly, to feel the wind under my wings, or I was going to snap.

Climbing over the sill, I dangled for a moment, then dropped, landing with a soft thump in the cool sand. Straightening, I hugged the side of the house, making my way around to where my bike lay slumped against the corner of the fence. I couldn’t take the car, of course, and the spot I was headed was only about five miles away.

Not too far. I just had to get home before sunrise.

As I pushed my bike to the brightly lit sidewalk, I paused to look back at the house. Dante’s light was still on, but if I knew him, he would be glued to the computer screen. The guardians were both in bed, lights off, curtains drawn. No one would see me creep down the road and disappear into the night, to go flying with a complete stranger after midnight.

You know you’re breaking about a dozen sacred rules here, Ember.

I shook off my fear. No, no second guesses. I’d followed their rules long enough. Tonight, I was going to fly.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my leg over the bike and pushed off down the street, feeling my doubts get smaller and smaller with every cycle. By the time I’d reached the corner, and my house had been swallowed up by the darkness, they were gone entirely.

Garret

“Come on,” Tristan muttered from the edge of the roof. “Put some clothes on, man.”

I paused in the doorway that led to the roof of our apartment complex, wondering if I shouldn’t turn around and go back inside.

Every night from the time we arrived, we’d take turns on the roof of this building, scanning the sky, watching for glimpses of scales or wings. A long shot, to be certain, but better than sitting around doing nothing.

Sighing, I closed the door and walked up behind him. He stood at the corner, peering through a pair of binoculars, gazing at the darkening horizon. “Anything?”

“Other than a guy grilling on the balcony in his birthday suit, no.”

Tristan didn’t lower the binoculars, didn’t even move as he said this.

“Did you get a chance to read the report that came back?”

“Yes,” I answered, having just come from the kitchen and the open email file on the laptop. Re: Subject analysis the subject line read.

The body of the email contained the names of the subjects I’d designated and a little information about each of them: age, parents, addresses, where they were born. Everything looked pretty ordinary…except for one thing.