When Among Crows (Curse Bearer, #1)

by Veronica Roth

they wouldn’t have invited a banshee to sing as a prelude to a boxing match if all she could do was make everyone feel sad. As her unearthly voice climbs to a piercing high, he grits his teeth, unsure what to expect. She soars over the highest note, and it vibrates in Dymitr’s skull, as if it’s turned him into glass that’s about to break. And break he does, silently, the walls he’s placed around his emotions crumbling all at once. Feeling spills through him, rage and sorrow and terror, frustration and regret and dread. The singing banshee fixes her stare on him, and he closes his eyes, his hands in fists against his knees.

She wants to go home and wrap herself in her grandfather’s quilt and watch television. Instead, she’s stuck in this place that stinks to high heaven of dread, one of her least favorite of the fear flavors—like toasted walnut, maybe, or a honey-wheat cracker.

Dymitr can feel the pressure of his mouth, the tickle of his speech—