Murmur

By Emily Israd

Hannah Sterling can change into a bird.

Or at least, she could until this past summer. When the Sickness takes away her shapeshifting ability, Hannah finds herself grounded—maybe for good.

But there's no time to worry about that. Life in Jessup, Oklahoma has started heading south, fast. A student is killed, a biker gang is on the prowl, and the man Hannah's father just hired is seriously giving her the creeps.

Meanwhile, Jack Corbin is having problems of his own. Life as the local miracle healer isn't all it's cracked up to be, and Jack's strange power seems to be drawing clients and danger in equal measure.

With the darkness closing in, Hannah and Jack need to take hold of their powers to protect the people they love.

It’s going to take every ounce of luck—and magic—to get out of this one alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Israd
• Release date: Apr 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301074716

Emily Israd

Hi, I’m Emily, and I love making things! This includes dreaming up stories about teenaged shapeshifters in Oklahoma. I work as a graphic designer during the day, and then I work on novels and digital paintings at night. (I take lots of breaks to cuddle my dog, though. Dog cuddles are key.) My current books include Murmur, The Raven Mocker, and Devil’s Den. I love hearing about all the cool stuff you’re doing, too, so don’t be afraid to reach out to me here or at isradbooks at gmail dot com.

Book preview

MURMUR

By Emily Israd

Copyright 2013 Emily Israd

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook! This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for your support.

This book is available in print through select online book retailers. Learn more at the author’s official website:

www.emilyisrad.com

Other books in this series:

The Raven Mocker

Devil’s Den

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

The Raven Mocker

CHAPTER 1

That summer, Hannah Sterling was officially Sick.

It was the aunts who diagnosed her. The five women squeezed into the small yellow kitchen, ushering Hannah toward the table by the window. Odessa pulled out one of the worn wooden chairs.

Sit, she said. We need to take a look at you.

Hannah obliged even as a small tremor of anxiety ran through her. What are you looking for? She hooked her feet onto the bottom rung of the chair as the eldest aunt grasped her chin with short fingers.

It was true that Hannah had felt slightly off since the beginning of the summer, and the last few weeks had only gotten worse. Shifting into her bird form – once as natural as breathing – had started to feel slow and cumbersome. This time last year, Hannah had been winging effortlessly through the summer skies with the rest of her shapeshifting family. Now, changing forms felt like slogging waist-deep through invisible mud.

The most frustrating part was that Hannah couldn’t pin down any reason for the sudden change. Seeing the aunts ringed around her, she was starting to worry that it might be something serious.

Odessa tipped Hannah’s jaw to one side, examining her hazel eyes. It’s difficult to say, she said. Now be still, would you?

As Odessa continued to peer at Hannah from under hooded lids, Abilene plucked up Hannah’s wrist and felt for her pulse. Tulia commandeered her other arm, holding Hannah’s fingers tightly as she examined the lines in the girl’s palm. Crowded out of the immediate ministrations, Edna and Elsa shifted into birds and flitted nervously from the back of one kitchen chair to another.

Hannah cleared her throat. Look, is this about me fainting last week? It was embarrassing enough that she had suddenly pitched over at the end of her father’s sermon. She didn’t need her aunts fussing about it, too. I think I just stood up too fast, that’s all.

You nearly gave yourself a concussion, Abilene said. You’re lucky Jeremy was there to catch you.

Hannah flushed as she remembered the concerned seminary student waving a hand over her face as she came to. It was probably just a one-time thing, she said. There’s nothing wrong with me. She hesitated as Odessa pressed a thumb to her temple. Right?

I hope so, Odessa said. I—hm.

Tulia tipped her head as her sister paused. What is it?

Here. Cradling Hannah’s head in her hands, Odessa brushed a thumb under her niece’s left eye. Take a look at this, Tulia. Tell me what you see.

The youngest aunt squinted as she leaned closer. "I don’t see—oh. Oh."

The single syllable sent adrenaline cracking through Hannah’s veins. What is it? she demanded. What’s ‘oh’ mean?

Odessa dropped her hands as she let out a long, slow breath. Just as I thought, she said. Her voice was carefully controlled. It’s the Sickness.

Hannah’s stomach dropped like she was falling out of the sky. What’s the Sickness?

Elsa shifted back to her human form abruptly, nearly knocking over a chair in the process. Beside her, Abilene bit her lip.

It’s very rare, Abilene said. She reached out to tuck a wayward strand of brown hair behind Hannah’s ear, a gesture that was supposed to be comforting.

Hannah felt fear spike behind her ribs, instead.

Tell me what the Sickness is, Hannah demanded. She scanned the aunts’ faces, her eyes narrowing. What’s going on?

Odessa pushed up her sleeves as Tulia landed on her shoulder. Once in a blue moon, a starling shifter will contract what we call the Sickness. Biting her lip, Odessa hesitated. Although maybe contract is the wrong word. You can’t catch it from somebody else, if I recall correctly. It’s just something that…happens.

The other aunts nodded in agreement as Hannah sat frozen on the kitchen chair. She shivered despite the pool of sunlight around her. What’s going to happen to me? she asked. Her throat felt like she had swallowed a tumbler full of the dusty Oklahoma earth. Am I going to die?

Lord, no! It’s not that kind of illness.

Then what?

Odessa frowned. When a shapeshifter has the Sickness, it means that one of two things is about to happen. On one hand, it could mean you’re about to develop some sort of special power. Something big. Something rare.

Hannah felt hope flutter beneath her ribs. That doesn’t sound too bad. What’s the other thing that could happen?

The aunts exchanged glances. Odessa took a deep breath, her expression suddenly pained.

Hannah’s stomach tightened. What? What is it?

Odessa shook her head. You lose the ability to change shapes, she said softly. Forever.

***

The kitchen diagnosis was in early August. Hannah was secretly hoping for some sort of miraculous recovery before school started, but there was no such luck.

Bones balked.

Feathers failed.

Her shapeshifting was slipping away.

Now with summer gone, Hannah watched the strong autumn sunlight stream onto desks while she waited for English class to start. The desk to Hannah’s left was empty. If this had been last year, the seat would have been filled by her best friend, Poppy Staer. Or at least, I thought she was my best friend. A starling shifter herself, Poppy hadn’t taken the news of Hannah’s Sickness very well. Hannah had spent almost two weeks trying to get in touch with Poppy to go flying or go to the movies or something before she realized that her friend was avoiding her.

Remembering this brought on a bitter wave of hurt all over again. Hannah slapped a notebook onto her desk, pretending to look out the window as she composed herself. It was just as well, she supposed. The Staers had moved east to Tennessee at the end of August. Too far to fly alone.

Five minutes until class started. Maybe Poppy’s seat was going to stay empty this year.

Just then, a broad-shouldered figure cut across Hannah’s line of vision. A boy practically crash-landed in the vacant chair before he shook thick blond hair out of his eyes. He flashed Hannah a confident grin.

Hey, he said.

Hi.

Don’t believe we’ve met. The boy extended his hand like he introduced himself to girls all the time. I’m Matthew.

Hannah blinked and shook Matthew’s tanned hand. Hannah Sterling. She didn’t recognize Matthew at all, which was unusual for a town as small as Jessup. Her curiosity took over. Are you new?

Sure am. Matthew slung a muscled arm over the back of his chair as more students took their seats. My family just moved up here from Amarillo.

I guess Jessup is a little small compared to Amarillo, huh?

Matthew shifted his weight until his chair was balanced on its back legs. His grin grew mischievous. It’s different, that’s for sure. For instance, they didn’t tell me all the girls in Jessup would be so pretty.

Geez. Poppy would have gotten a kick out of this guy. Hannah felt herself blushing under Matthew’s confident gaze. She searched desperately for something to say in reply and seized on his T-shirt, the deep maroon and light gray of Morgan High. Silver, not gray, people would say, but it was hard to make a silver-colored T-shirt. Are you on the football team?

Yup. Quarterback. Cocking his arm, Matthew threw an imaginary football. The momentum brought the front legs of his chair crashing back onto the linoleum tile. Playin’ with these jokers, he said, pointing out two more boys wearing the same shirts. We’d be winning every week if they could give me a little defense.

One of the boys turned around. Shut up, Matt. To Hannah he added, He’s actually pretty good.

His friend snorted. Yeah, for somebody from Texas.

Matthew bristled. Man, you take that back. Oklahoma sucks so hard it’s keepin’ Texas from falling into the Gulf of Mexico.

Ha! Yeah, well it’s not an easy job, considering how much Texas blows.

Hannah sighed and let her attention wander over the rest of the room.

The classroom was almost full. Almost full, and still no other shifters. At least none that she knew of. Jessica Moore and Haley Stills entered the room giggling, their makeup retouched between classes. A nervous Patrick Spencer arrived at the door breathless, his eyes darting to the clock on the classroom wall as he slung himself into a free seat. Finn Harval took the desk in front of Matthew.

The quarterback stared as Finn sat down. Whoa, he said, his voice suddenly and obnoxiously loud.

Hannah knew what he was looking at. To say that Finn was pale was an understatement. Finn’s skin was nearly as white as the flour that Tulia used in her pies. His hair was equally fair, the only hint of pigment a vague yellowish tinge that was being set off now in the afternoon sun.

Pulling out a textbook, Finn leaned forward out of the sun and began to read, the crisp, navy blue collar of his shirt standing in razor-sharp contrast to the back of his neck.

Hey. Matthew addressed the back of Finn’s white-blond head. Hey, you.

Matthew’s teammate shook his head. Ten bucks says he won’t talk to you.

Oh, yeah? Smirking, Matthew kicked the leg of Finn’s chair. His face darkened when Finn ignored him.

Told you.

Hannah’s stomach knotted as Matthew scooted forward.

Jaw setting in determination, Matthew kicked the back of Finn’s chair again, more viciously this time. Hey! he barked. I’m talking to you!

Finn whirled, his fingers gripping the back of his chair as he glared at the football player. What do you want? he snapped.

Whoa. Matthew held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. No need to get upset, he drawled.

The blue eyes that had held Hannah captive a moment ago now raked over Finn with disdain. In the space of a heartbeat, Hannah had to correct the name of Matthew’s aura. He’s not confident, she realized. He’s arrogant.

The football player leaned his muscular frame over his desk as he stared at Finn. Boy, you are Day-Glo white. You a ghost or something? A few seats away, Matthew’s teammates snickered.

Finn snarled at Matthew’s mocking tone. It’s albinism, you idiot.

Do you see dead people?

Shut up. Finn turned to face the front of the room, his long fingers taking up his book again.

One of the teammates laughed. Ooh, Matthew, you’re makin’ him mad. The boys around him cackled.

Egged on by the laughter, Matthew leaned forward to kick Finn’s chair again. Hey, Day-Glo, turn around.

To Hannah’s surprise, Finn did. His normally narrow eyes narrowed even further as he pointed a finger at Matthew’s barrel chest.

Listen, Finn said coolly. Kick my chair again and I’ll break your arm.

Matthew’s jaw tightened, the motion twisting his smirk into a thin line. Anger clouded his features as his voice turned hard. Are you threatening me?

I’m just telling you, Finn said. Kick my chair again if you want your arm broken. With a final glare, Finn turned back to his book.

The knot in Hannah’s stomach wasn’t going away. In fact, the awful tension was creeping steadily into her chest as she watched the color rise in Matthew’s face. He looks furious.

Clenching his fists at the edge of his chair, Matthew scooted toward Finn, cursing under his breath.

Hannah swallowed. Say something, she urged herself. I should say something. She tried to think of how her father would diffuse the situation, but no words were coming.

Eyes dark, Matthew placed his sneakered foot squarely on the back of Finn’s chair.

Hey, Hannah sputtered. Don’t—

Matthew shoved the chair forward with explosive strength. Pinned between chair and desk, Finn yelped and dropped his book. Hannah flinched, imagining broken ribs.

Two rows away, Will Branson leapt to his feet. What the hell—?

Mr. Branson! Take your seat, please! Mrs. Campbell swept into the classroom, her arms filled with stacks of essay questions fresh off the photocopier. Her eyes darted to where Matthew was moving his desk back into place. Is there a problem over there?

The quarterback’s easy smile was back again. No, ma’am.

Hannah accepted a worksheet and bent her head over her desk, her mind replaying what she had just seen.

Forget the Sickness. Now she felt sick for entirely different reasons.

***

Thankfully, English class passed quickly. As soon as the final bell sounded, Hannah scribbled down the weekend’s reading assignment and jumped to her feet.

Not waiting around for Poppy meant it only took a second to escape the classroom. Hannah slung her bag over her shoulder and ducked between Matthew and Finn. The boys were exchanging industrial-strength death glares. And it’s only September. She wondered if one of them would be forced to switch classes before Christmas.

Morgan High tended to empty out quickly on Fridays, especially ones as beautiful as today. Shouldering open the school’s double doors, Hannah shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun and squinted in the direction of Main Street. Noisy throngs of students were ambling along the hot sidewalks or piling into second-hand cars and trucks. Now that most of the junior year was old enough to drive, Hannah’s classmates had turned the school lot into the site of the state’s youngest rally race.

Hannah looked longingly at the open sky overhead. Forget driving, she thought. It was an absolutely perfect day to fly. Unfortunately, the bag on her shoulder meant Hannah would have had to hide her books somewhere, fly to work at the diner, and then return later and hope no one had stolen her English homework out of the bushes. Closely held items like clothing or jewelry could survive the back and forth of shifting, but something as large and heavy as a book bag would be pretty much impossible.

Too much work, Hannah decided. Besides, the aunts might see me changing back when I land. After diagnosing Hannah with the Sickness, the aunts constantly fretted about her flying. Better walk, for now.

Hannah hitched her bag higher and turned onto Main Street. The diner was just ahead, the small building tucked between Ernie’s Books and Jessup Farm & Ranch Insurance. A hand-painted sign crowned the diner’s squat frame, the white letters of LA PETITE ETOILE bright against the deep blue board. It had been Tulia’s idea to add a small golden star dotting the I in PETITE.

Since it means ‘the little star’ in French, she had said. Tulia had heaved a dreamy sigh as she appraised the swirling script. It’s perfect.

That had been ten years ago. To this day, the sign was the only French thing about the diner, unless you counted the French toast or the print of the Eiffel Tower by the cash register.

Tulia was standing by said cash register when Hannah arrived. Hannah! she exclaimed. There you are! Tulia smiled as she gestured out the diner’s plate glass window. I thought maybe you’d melted in this heat. Still feels like summer, doesn’t it?

Hi, Aunt Tulia. Crossing the gleaming linoleum floor, Hannah joined her aunt behind the counter and stashed her book bag under the Formica countertop. She washed her hands before taking the apron Tulia held out to her. Her aunt’s hazel eyes were bright as she prattled on.

Of course, it’s supposed to cool down a little later next week. Cold front moving in. Lots of wind, probably. Tulia’s voice faded as she ducked to count the pies in the glass dessert case. Tulia’s pies – complete with the signature stars stamped into the center – were the go-to dessert for patrons at La Petite Etoile.

Satisfied with the pie count, Tulia resurfaced from the dessert case’s fluorescent glow. So! she said brightly. How’s school so far?

OK, I guess.

That doesn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement.

Hannah fiddled with her apron strings. Classes are OK. I have Mrs. Lehman for art again, which is nice. It’s just… Hannah paused, debating whether to share the thought that had stuck with her all week. I guess it’s a little weird with Poppy being gone, she mumbled.

Tulia’s face fell. Oh, sweetheart. She swooped close to put an arm around Hannah’s shoulders.

Hannah was torn between leaning into the hug and feeling stupid for needing it. Maybe if you had made more than one friend at school, you wouldn’t be in this mess, dummy.

Hannah shrugged, swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat. I have friends, she said, trying to reassure both Tulia and herself. Even as she said it, Hannah wondered if lunchtime acquaintances counted. It’s just, um…nobody else— Hannah hesitated, her eyes darting toward the corner booth where a man sat nursing a cup of coffee.

Her aunt understood. Dropping her arms from around Hannah’s shoulders, Tulia folded her hands into the shape of a bird. Her short fingers fluttered to beat the wings once, twice. The meaning was clear. Nobody else is a shifter, are they?

Hannah nodded. Yeah, she whispered. At least not in my year. Not that I know of.

Tulia nodded sympathetically, a wry smile crossing her face. It’s not exactly something you can just go up to someone and ask, now, is it? She shook her head. I know what you mean, honey. It can get a little lonely sometimes. Want me to ask around for you?

No! Hannah flushed as the panicked word burst from her lips. I mean, no, thank you. That’s OK. Things might have been lonely, but the idea of her talkative aunt taking over as the cheerful CEO of Friend Finders, Inc. was beyond mortifying. Still, Hannah knew Tulia meant well.

I’m sure things will work out, Hannah added.

I’m sure they will, Tulia soothed, patting her arm. And I know you’ll stay busy in the meantime. Lots of homework?

Some, Hannah admitted.

And boys?

Hannah grabbed two plastic bins, one with napkins and one with silverware. She turned to see Tulia waggling her eyebrows mischievously. Heat rose beneath Hannah’s freckles. Um…

No one? Tulia pressed. The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement at Hannah’s discomfort. No one even remotely interesting?

Hannah sighed. Briefly, she recounted the incident between Finn Harval and Matthew-from-Amarillo. By the time Hannah had finished, Tulia was shaking her head in disgust.

What’s wrong with boys these days? That Matthew sounds like a piece of work.

Yeah.

What about Finn?

Hannah twisted a bouquet of silverware into a paper napkin. Finn? I dunno. Hannah paused, trying to find a description that was both accurate and appropriate to say in front of her aunt. Finally settling, Hannah shook her head. Finn is kind of a jerk. She selected another trio of fork, knife, and spoon. I mean, I felt really bad for him. But he does tend to either ignore people or be rude to them right off the bat.

So I guess they’re both idiots, huh? Scanning the diner, Tulia waved back at the man finishing his coffee. Sorry, Hannah, she said quickly. Back to work. Can you start prepping some potatoes when you’re done there?

Sure.

Finishing the last bundle of silverware, Hannah headed to the kitchen. Odessa was already there, rinsing something in one of the large silver sinks. She turned as Hannah shouldered her way through the kitchen’s double doors.

Tulia, can you—oh, hello, Hannah. Thought you were my sister.

Did somebody call me? Abilene poked her head out of the walk-in freezer. Hi, Hannah.

No, no, Odessa said. Go back to your quest for ground beef.

Nodding, Abilene disappeared again. Odessa shut off the faucet before shaking droplets from the large silver ladle in her hand. How were things over at Morgan today? she asked.

Hannah shrugged. OK, I guess. She didn’t particularly feel like rehashing the incident between Finn and Matthew. Besides, she knew Tulia would probably share the story with her sisters later that evening. Telling something to one aunt was as good as telling them all.

Tipping her head, Hannah changed the subject. Aunt Tulia said there were potatoes to prep?

Over there.

Hannah pushed up her sleeves and fell to work, scrubbing the endless pile of potatoes while her aunts chopped and rinsed and chatted up a storm. The early dinner crowd would be in soon. Nudging a clean potato aside, Hannah thought briefly about her own dinner. Probably a sandwich between shifts. She was debating what kind of sandwich to fix when the merry beep of a car horn sounded from outside.

Odessa looked up from her work.

Is that for us? Hannah asked.

Now Abilene paused. Three seconds later, the horn came again, each blast longer this time. Tulia appeared at the kitchen door. The twins are out back, she announced. I’m taking an order.

I’ll get it! Hannah volunteered. Running her hands under the sink, she dashed through the kitchen doors and down the narrow hall. She tumbled out the back door to see a dusty 1973 station wagon parked across three spaces in the gritty lot. Her aunts Edna and Elsa were each hanging out of one of the car windows.

Edna tooted the horn again. Yoo-hoo! Hannah!

Hannah trotted across the asphalt to stand at the station wagon’s long, wood-paneled sides. What’s going on?

We’re stealing you away! Elsa announced. Her loosely curled hair wobbled above twinkling brown eyes.

Really?

Edna patted nearly identical curls. Well, we do have an ulterior motive. Lots of groceries to put away. We need someone young and capable.

Hannah ducked her head to peer into the back seats jammed with bulging bags. Geez. Is there even room for me in there?

We’ll fit you in. C’mon, only three of us. There’s actually a lot of space in here.

Right! Usually it’s us, plus Odessa, and Abilene—

And Tulia.

And you, Hannah, and your father—

The point is that with only three of us girls, you’ll barely notice the food.

Hannah smiled ruefully as she shook her head. Her family did tend to flock together, even when they were in human form. She almost never had a moment to herself.

And then the thought struck her.

Wait a minute.

A moment to myself.

If she went with her aunts, the house would be nearly empty. And there was something that Hannah needed to try, alone. The mere thought sent a shiver of anxiety down her spine, and Hannah rubbed her arms to erase a sudden wave of goosebumps.

Taking a deep breath, Hannah tried to sound nonchalant. Sure, I’ll come. Let me ask first, though. They might be too busy inside to let me go.

Just a quick break, Elsa promised. Tell Odessa we’ll have you back by six.

Six o’clock. A little under two hours. Biting her lip, Hannah tried to decide if it was enough time to pull things off. Two hours will probably be enough. Besides, she reasoned, if things don’t work out, I’ll be done way before that.

It was a thought she didn’t want to entertain. Shaking off her anxiety, Hannah addressed both aunts at once. I’ll be right back.

Fifteen minutes later, the station wagon was rumbling up the short gravel drive to the Sterling home. Wedged between the car door and a sack of groceries, Hannah felt the ghost of a smile threatened to surface on her face. She quickly schooled her expression into a neutral mask.

Two hours.

As Edna eased on the brakes, Odessa’s parting words