The Rising by Kelley Armstrong

my fingers, but only clutched it harder.
    â€œThose them?”
    Ash’s voice brought me back again. I tore my gaze away just long enough to nod. When I looked back, Mom and Dad were at the front of the car, helping Grandma from the passenger seat.
    â€œThey Navajo?” Ash asked. “The women?”
    â€œMy mom and grandmother. They’re Haida.”
    â€œWhat the hell’s that? Some Canadian tribe?”
    â€œYes.”
    He snorted. “Figures. Got a spare Indian baby? Give it to any Indian who’ll take her. They’re all the same anyway.” He waved at my parents. “Hell, doesn’t even matter if the new dad is Indian or not. He’s a forest ranger? That’s close enough. At one with nature and all that—”
    â€œShut up,” I snarled. “Just shut the hell—” I choked on the rest and turned back to my family. They were making their way forward. Dad had his arm around Mom, gripping so close he seemed to be holding her upright. Grandma was on her other side, clasping her hand.
    Someone met them and gestured to chairs in front of a giant photo. It was from this past spring, of me crouched, hugging Kenjii, and grinning. We were both splattered with mud after Dad let Daniel and me take his Jeep off-roading after a heavy rain. We’d come back and Mom made us stay outside—not because of the mud, but because she wanted pictures. In the real photo Daniel was there, too, standing behind me, and I could see his hand in the blown-up version. A disembodied hand resting on my shoulder. I wished they’d left him in it, maybe even let us have a joint photo, but his dad had picked one of Daniel in a suit, looking somber and uncomfortable and not like Daniel at all.
    When the man directed them to their spot, Mom seemed to notice the photo for the first time. She stopped, making Dad falter and Grandma stumble. Then she . . . she made this noise. This horrible noise. A keening wail as she dropped. Just dropped, like someone had cut her legs out from under her, and Dad grabbed her before she hit the ground, and he crouched there, bent on one knee, with Mom collapsed against him, and I could hear her crying. Even from here, I could hear her crying.
    â€œI can’t do this,” I said, scrambling onto all fours. “I have to go tell—”
    â€œNo!” Ash swung up. He poised there, ready to pounce on me. “You can’t, Maya.”
    I looked back at my parents, buried against each other, my dad’s back rising and falling hard, and I knew he was crying, too. I should have listened to Daniel. Why the hell hadn’t I listened to Daniel? Because I’d been stubborn. Stubborn and proud, as always, and now I saw exactly what he’d meant and how right he’d been. This was cruel—unbelievably cruel—watching my parents suffer when all I had to do was leap from this tree and run over—
    I let out a shuddering breath and looked over to where Daniel was hiding and saw him there, half rising from the grass, his gaze fixed on me. He raised his hand, not quite a wave, more just . . . something. Some attempt at contact, at comfort, and I wished I was there. Damn it, why wasn’t I with him? What the hell had possessed me to be up here, to go through this alone?
    I lifted my hand, reaching out. Then Corey pulled him down.
    â€œGood,” Ash grunted.
    I glanced over and reminded myself I wasn’t alone. Not really. But in some ways, I wished I was, because I got nothing from Ash. Not a smile. Not a kind word. Not even a sympathetic look. He just scowled, like I was going to blow our cover over nothing.
    I turned back to my parents.
    â€œDon’t.”
    I looked over again. Now I saw some glimmer in his eyes, though he held his face tight, lips still compressed.
    â€œDon’t look,” he said. “Just . . . don’t look.”
    I hesitated, and I wanted to say I could