Footsteps head my way, so quiet that if my ears weren’t listening so hard, I might miss them. Then she’s there. My mother. A soft smile and a warm kiss on my hand. “Mother? What are you doing all the way out here?” I ask. “I came to see you,” she says. “Keep said there were special circumstances.” “There are. But I would’ve come even if there weren’t,” she says. I believe her. My mother ain’t no liar. In the inky black of night her raven hair melts into the air, as if she’s become one with the sky. As always, she has my eyes in her head, but they seem brighter’n ever before, shining like an animal’s. “Siena, something’s happened. Greynote Shiva…” She trails off and she don’t need to say the rest. It’s obvious. “Father’s Head Greynote,” I say. “Head Greynote Shiva’s dead.” She nods, barely perceptible in the dark, only visible ’cause her eyes bob and bounce.
