The Shadow Stealer (Silver Moon Saga Book 3) by Melissa Giorgio Page B

ever.
     
    ***
     
    The train ride to Manhattan was two hours, and on top of that we’d had to wait an additional forty-five minutes for the train to even arrive at the station, so I spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking about Mom, and Philip, and how our relationship would change if we were brother and sister. Or would it? Kain already said we reminded him of his bickering sisters. Our squabbles aside, how could I forget how easily we clicked from the moment we first met? It was like, subconsciously, we knew we were related.
    As the train sped south, I rested my head against Rafe’s shoulder and watched Philip, sitting in the row across from me, stare out the window. I definitely wouldn’t mind having him as an older brother. I knew I shouldn’t think of him as one without hearing what Charles had to say first, but, I realized with a rueful shake of my head, I already did.
    Whatever Charles says, it doesn’t make a difference, I told myself. Siblings or not, he’s still one of your best friends. That’s not going to change.
    “Why are you staring at me?” Philip jostled me out of my daydream by throwing a wadded up gum wrapper at my head. “Are you still trying to see if we look alike?”
    I threw the wrapper back at him, successfully missing Philip and hitting Kain on the nose instead. After apologizing to Kain, I told Philip, “No. I was just thinking it would make sense if we’re related, since you’re so good at annoying the hell out of me.”
    “You know I can easily say the same thing about you, right?” Philip pointed toward my window. “Oh, look, a cow. Remind you of home, Gabi?”
    “I have no idea why you’re still saying that when you know there are no farms where I live!” I folded my arms over my chest and glared at him. It took me a few seconds, but I realized he was teasing me to distract me from, well, everything. “Thanks,” I mumbled, looking away quickly.
    I watched his reflection in the glass smile. “You’re welcome.”
     
    ***
     
    The train pulled into Penn Station with a loud screech. People jumped from their seats, grabbing their luggage and bags from the overhead racks. My friends and I waited for the train to empty before rising and heading for the doors.
    I held Rafe’s hand tightly as we navigated through the crowds. People were everywhere, rushing to catch their trains as a voice over the loudspeaker announced the track numbers and reminded everyone to report any suspicious activities. Stores selling everything from food to books lined the long corridor, and I made a small sound of protest as we passed a bakery without stopping.
    We rode the escalator outside, and immediately new noises filled my ears: people hawking wares, honking car horns, and pulsing dance music spilling from a store across the street. The six of us stepped out of the way of the ever-present crowds of pedestrians so Philip could tell us our next move.
    “Okay, he’s pissed off we’re here,” he said, staring at his phone, “which is to be expected, but Dad says he’ll meet us at Bryant Park.”
    “Bryant Park?” I echoed. “Is that like Central Park?”
    They all smirked at me.
    “Shut up,” I said, my face turning red. Stupid New Yorkers!
    Taking pity on me, Rafe pointed to the right and said, “It’s this way.”
     
    ***
     
    Bryant Park was not, in fact, part of Central Park, but another, smaller park situated on the same block as the New York Public Library. It wasn’t a far walk from Penn Station, so we didn’t bother with the subway, although Rafe informed me the train did stop at the park. But unlike back home, it wasn’t too cold out, and they didn’t have any residual snow on the pavement, so I didn’t mind the walk.
    It probably helped that Rafe stopped to buy me a hot chocolate along the way.
    Philip eyed my happy face as I drank my cocoa and shook his head, but he wisely said nothing.
    I began noticing trees to our right, and suddenly, smack dab in the middle of the