Page 135 of Requiem of Silence

Papa looked around wildly before leading them into an alleyway. It would provide no protection from the spirits, but got them out of the frantic flow of pedestrians scurrying down the sidewalks.

A dark smoke-like column sprinted overhead, swooping down. Varten had a hand on his father, he was protected, but still flinched at the proximity. He felt nothing when the apparition bounced off him and redirected to find another victim.

Crashes sounded as windows broke nearby. Metal crunched and tires squealed. Screams rang out and hysterical people shouted, cried, and streamed past.

“I’m not sure we can make it back to the palace,” Papa said.

Varten peered out at the chaos around them, agreeing. “What if this is it? The Songs might be our last chance.”

“You really think you know how?”

Doubt clouded his mind, but he pushed through. “I think I might.”

“All right, then we’ll need a vehicle.”

Hand in hand, they ventured out into the street. Two middle-aged Elsiran women were hurrying past. The taller one stopped and did a double take at Papa.

“Earthsinger?” she asked, looking at their joined hands.

Papa nodded and extended his free hand to her and she grabbed on, holding onto the other woman. At the corner, someone had abandoned an older-model roadster. It sat, idling, driver’s door open.

“There!” Varten yelled, pointing.

“Does anyone know how to drive?” Papa asked. The two women shook their heads.

Varten had never driven an auto before, but he’d observed each time he’d been a passenger and had been shown the fundamentalsof operating one by some of the drivers at the palace. “I think I can figure it out.” To the women, he said, “We need to get to the palace. You all are welcome to come, but this is an emergency.”

The shorter one looked to the taller one, who shrugged. “I don’t care where we go as long as those things don’t get us.”

They hustled over to the car and piled in awkwardly, a jumble of moving arms and legs trying not to break the chain of protection with Papa. Once settled, Varten reviewed what he recalled of the instructions and placed the car in gear. He tapped the accelerator and they moved forward.

Papa was in the seat next to him, one arm gently grasping his shoulder. Varten looked over and smiled when something thumped against the front of the vehicle. A woman stood there, eyes shining with malice. Her two fists had dented the hood.

Varten rushed to put the car into reverse and back up. The woman charged, but then froze and slid to the side before crashing into the front of a building.

“Drive. Now,” Papa said tightly. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He must having been using Earthsong on the wraith.

“Are you all right?”

“I can’t hold her,” he groaned. Varten shifted again and accelerated forward. The streets were in chaos; people ran from spirits and from each other as wraiths wreaked havoc on the city.

Traffic semaphores were working, but no one seemed to be following them. He was forced to slam to a stop when a runaway horse pulling an empty carriage galloped past. When they reached the first of the steep hills they had to climb, nerves buzzed inside him. The engine revved loudly as he pushed the gas while shifting.

“Don’t stall out,” the taller woman called from the backseat, just before the engine cut out.

Varten gritted his teeth. “Thanks.”

He felt the scrutiny on the back of his neck, but focused on restarting the car. This time, he took off successfully. All around them people were trying to run to safety, while more and more were being transformed.

They drove by a wraith lifting the front end of a parked car and tossing it into a house. Varten turned down a side street to avoid a cluster of wraiths up ahead who appeared to be tunneling through the pavement with their bare hands. The creatures tore down power lines, picked apart buildings, and were generally causing as much mayhem and destruction as possible.

“Does the True Father want anything left of the city?” he murmured.

“He doesn’t care about things like that,” Papa responded. “He’ll build a new city if he has to on the ashes of this one.”

When they finally reached the palace gates, Varten was certain he’d shaved several years off his life. Security was nonexistent—even the Royal Guard must have fled to the shelters set up to protect the palace workers.

“Where to?” Papa asked as they ran through the main entrance, hand in hand. Even here, dark shapes arced and dove through the air, searching for hosts to take over.

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