Seventeen-year-old Sparrow has never known freedom. An alien from the planet Mykzon, she’s caged and forced to perform in Obsidian’s Travelling Show of Rarities and Fascinations.

That is, until Felix crashes into her world. He’s human, reckless and has wings where his hands should be. And when Felix’s arrival attracts powerful enemies, Sparrow’s world is thrown into chaos.

As Sparrow is drawn into a rebellion she never asked for, she must choose between staying hidden or risking everything to fight back.

Because Obsidian doesn’t just want the spotlight.

She wants the world.

14+ due to adult situations

 

Excerpt:

They threw him in our cage.

I was half asleep when the door shrieked open and, for one glorious moment, there were no bars in my line of vision. I could see beyond the confines, out into the world where the humans walk around. The tarpaulin had been lifted, revealing a sprinkling of green grass and the outline of spindly trees. One of my feet twitched, as if it was desperate to run around and feel the grass between its toes. I had done that once before, many years ago. It hadn’t ended well. Did I dare to risk it again?

I could have tried to escape. I coulad have used my inhuman speed to launch myself out of the cage. A tiny part of me was inches away from doing that.

And then the moment passed and the two guards threw the boy unceremoniously inside.

“This won’t hurt a bit,” lied one of the guards as he pressed a needle into the boy’s neck and filled the syringe with ruby-colored blood. The boy winced, glaring at the two guards, but they were already retreating. One of them slid back the door and the enormous padlock clicked shut. The guard winked at me, an unpleasant expression on his face, as if to say I have you at my mercy. And I suppose he did.

The boy lay winded on the sawdust floor. That’s when I saw them. The enormous white wings extending directly from his shoulders. He didn’t appear to have hands at all, but I tried not to stare as he got to his knees and looked around at us all.

Six of us shared the cage—me, my parents, Glow In The Dark Woman, Red Boy, and Scaly Man. It had been a tight squeeze even before this newcomer. Someone, long ago, had put curtains up at every corner and in the two middle sections of the cage, affording us a tiny amount of privacy. I’d always shared one of the middle sections with the Glow In The Dark Woman, which was akin to having a humanoid-shaped nightlight. Apart from the beings in our cage, I never got to see anyone else, unless I briefly glimpsed one of them when we were performing. But, every so often, when the wind lifted the tarpaulin or when I walked to the main tent, I caught sight of the many other cages in the field. I didn’t let myself ask just how many of us Obsidian had captured.

The six of us were all gathered in the center of the cage as the boy was thrown in our midst. I wondered how we appeared to him. Had he seen people like us before? He looked human—but then, I suppose, to some extent we did too. I wondered what alien planet they had plucked him from. There were plenty of winged aliens.

The choker that Obsidian would have put around his neck stood out against his bronzed skin. A lump formed in my throat; he was too new to fully comprehend how that spiked choker would change his life. His dark eyes rested on me and I got my first proper look at his face. Though his wings were pure white, his hair was black and his eyes were navy.

I wondered what language he spoke. In my time on Earth, I’d become fluent in English, Spanish, French, Italian, and German. I also spoke several alien tongues, but something told me I had misjudged this boy initially. He was no alien, in spite of the enormous wings sprouting from his shoulders. I tried English first. “Hello. I’m Sparrow.”

He gave me a reluctant smile and extended a long wing. “They call me The Boy With Wings For Hands. You can see why.”

I solemnly shook his wing. Both of them were entirely unlike anything I’d ever seen before—and, considering I came from the planet Mykzon, that was saying a lot. The feathers were distinctly warm and, up close, they had a glittering sheen to them—almost like a pearl. They looked both beautiful and unnatural. “The Boy With Wings For Hands … that will be your billing,” I said. “What about your actual name?” And, when he continued to look at me in wide-eyed silence, “What did your parents call you?”

“What parents?” His eyes slid away from mine and his already dark eyes turned darker. “I never knew my parents.”

Chastened, I tried again. “What did your friends call you, then?”

Sighing as if I were nothing more than a particularly irritating biting insect, the boy said, “Felix. But nobody’s called me that in a long time.”

“We try to call people by their names here,” my mother broke in, softly. “It becomes too easy to forget who we truly are otherwise. When we perform, we have to take on the personas of the people we play. But here in our cage we get to choose who we are.”

Felix looked at her, so blankly that, for a moment, I wondered if she was speaking in our native tongue. But then he said, “Sorry, perform? What the hell are we going to perform? Where am I? And who took me?”

The Red Boy piped up. “Obsidian.”

I couldn’t stop myself shivering, the way I always did when anyone mentioned her name. Sometimes, in my dreams, I saw her face. Her enormous smile plastered across it for the crowds. The way her grin shriveled into a sneer the minute the audience had filed out of the big tent.

“This is a traveling show,” I explained. “Obsidian runs it. She’s from Mykzon. You know—the planet Mykzon.”

Felix pressed his fingers to his temple as if my words were giving him a headache. “So I’ve been abducted so I can join some alien circus troupe? Have I got that right?” Disbelief dripped from his voice.

Scaly Man nodded, his scales catching the light. “You are correct,” he confirmed, in his deep voice. I had grown up with Scaly Man, whose real name was Saul, and I was used to his strange appearance, but I could see how a stranger might find him terrifying. His entire body was covered with lizard-like scales, giving his skin a rough, reptilian texture. He had been one of the most popular acts until Mermaid Girl arrived.

Felix slumped in a corner of the cage, the bars digging into his skin. He didn’t look the way most people looked upon learning that Obsidian had chosen them. Most people screamed and tried to force the bars of the cage apart. Some people cried themselves to sleep. Some shouted until they were hoarse. Felix simply sat there, his wings folded back, in a curious silence. Almost as if he were actually relieved. “At least anyone’s better than Nick,” he muttered, half to himself.

Never say anything you don’t want to be heard when you’re with beings who have superior hearing.

“Nick?” My parents looked at each other. “Who’s Nick?”

Felix raked a hand through his black hair and the curls danced. “Never mind.”

Glow In The Dark Woman exchanged a glance with my mother, as if to say He’s taking this very well. Looking at the turmoil in Felix’s dark eyes, I didn’t think he was taking it at all well. I could almost see the cogs grinding inside his head.

“What planet are you from?” I asked him, scooting a little closer.

He looked at me as if I’d just asked him what two plus two equaled. “What?”

I gestured at his glossy wings. “I mean, you seem human apart from……”

He glanced at his wings and then back at me. “I’m from Earth. I was born and raised in London, thanks very much. And I don’t know why I have them any more than you do, so there’s no point in asking me. Yes, I was born like this. Yes, I tried to get cured but the doctors said removing them would probably cause more harm than good. No, I’ve never had hands but I can do more with my feet and wings than most people can with their fingers. Does that answer all of your questions?” His gaze bored into me, challengingly.

It didn’t come close to answering my questions, but I didn’t get the impression the boy with wings for hands wanted to give me any answers.

I shot a glance at my parents, to see if they found the situation as bizarre as I did. “Obsidian’s never had a human performer before…” I whispered. The Red Boy couldn’t seem to stop staring at Felix, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I barely resisted the urge to do so myself. I’d never seen a human this close before.

My mother’s face clouded. “Maybe Obsidian doesn’t know he’s human. He’s hardly typical of the species, with those wings.”

“If he’s human, why does he have wings?” piped up the Red Boy.

“He just said there was no point in asking that,” I reminded him.

Felix glared at all of us. “I am right here, you know. I can hear you. It’s hands I don’t have, not ears.”

I swallowed. For some reason, I desperately wanted to make Felix like us. For him not to stare at us like he was picturing our violent and bloody deaths. “Maybe… don’t tell her you’re human?”

“Why not? What would she do? Kill me?”

I swallowed, not wanting to answer that. So I just did my usual round of introductions. “These are my parents, Arlax and Mydenia. I’m Sparrow, as I said. That’s not my real name, by the way, it’s a nickname. This is Saul. The Red Boy is Pitchkin. And the Glow In The Dark Woman is Sallvinka. Most of us are from the Tenth Galaxy. My mother is half Mykzonian and my father is all Mykzonian. That makes me…”

“Three-quarters Mykzonian.” The boy looked at me, disdainfully. “I can do elementary maths.”

I shrugged, turning away, not wanting to let him know that he had hurt my feelings. I was only trying to be welcoming. I had hoped that maybe we could be friends—it had been so long since I had a friend my own age. I shivered, thinking of how badly it had ended when I’d last dared to make a friend.

It was the boy who spoke next. “I don’t get why you’re here. Your own people keep you as slaves and make you perform like pet monkeys.”

I shrugged. I used to be like Felix, especially just a few short Earth years ago when I was fourteen. But, at the age of seventeen Earth years, I had sunk into a hopeless realization that this was my life. I was one of the Rarities and Fascinations at Obsidian’s Traveling Show of Rarities and Fascinations. Accepting it was easier than fighting it.

No nation appeared to be above capitalizing on their assets. Not even alien nations. As soon as we discovered Earth, my people decided to make the most out of the innocence of humans and show them creatures that, though normal to us, were bewildering to them.

Obsidian took this concept a step further with her traveling show, not caring how she obtained her rarities and fascinations. My parents had been taken from their place of employment back on Mykzon and forced into using their powers for the humans’ entertainment. I was bred in captivity. I had never seen life beyond those bars, except for the glittering falsity of the big tent.

I couldn’t help but envy Felix, who had clearly seen something of the world before Obsidian found him.

“What’s your act like, then?” he asked me. “What do you do to entertain the crowds?”

I shrugged. “Most Mykzonians come into a power before their teens.” For the longest time, I had thought I wasn’t going to. My father discovered he could create fire when he was twelve. My mother found she had the power to create ice when she was just eight Earth years. And, when my maternal grandmother died, my mother inherited her ability to control lightning. Together, she and my father put on quite a spectacular show. Such abilities were not unusual back on Mykzon—but try as I might in the early days, I couldn’t manufacture either ice or fire—or even less ambitious elements.

There was a time my parents feared Obsidian would kill me—as she often did to those who could no longer perform or the ones whose abilities never manifested themselves. She gave every youngling until the age of ten to discover their powers and, if they didn’t, she deemed she had spent enough time and money on them. I’d seen her kill a little ten-year-old girl without even hesitating. Sometimes that haunted my dreams too.

As my tenth birthday approached, I thought I would be next.

My parents tried to be reassuring, but I knew they were worried too. One night, I overheard them talking about it. My mother’s hushed whispers carried over to me as she said, “You know Mykzonian women can pass on a power to their eldest child…”

I had lain back, reminding myself of how it worked. I was sure only one power, the ability the mother was born with, could be passed on to her child. The warning note in my father’s voice dragged my mind back to what he was saying. “Yes. What about it?”

My mother’s breath caught slightly. “I was thinking…”

“No.”

“But if we don’t do something, Sparrow could end up dead.”

“You know full well the only way a power can be passed on is for the mother to die. You are not taking your own life, Mydenia. And even if you did take your own life … you might not even pass your power onto Sparrow. You’re only half-Mykzonian, remember? No. We’ll find another way.”

I nearly choked at the idea of my mother ending her life so that I could inherit her power. I’d lain there, blood freezing in my veins. I fell asleep, thinking of plans to expedite my power manifesting itself. It didn’t work, of course.

And then it happened. Without warning. Without effort. Without me even knowing it was going to happen.

It was just one bird at first. And then a second. And a third. They came to me, fluttering through the bars of the cage and landing on my shoulders and my arms. I could speak to them. They could speak to me. My mother said the birds on Mykzon were about the size of Earth cars and had a tendency to pick off the young or elderly if they were especially hungry. She used her ice powers to make me a sculpture of one, so real I could swear I heard its deafening squawk or felt the rush of its powerful wings. I could imagine being able to talk to those birds would be far more useful than talking to the tiny ones on Earth. Nevertheless, I was relieved I had a power. I was Bird Girl.

Maybe that’s why they called me Sparrow, though I personally believe that was more to do with being scrawny. Unlike Obsidian and my mother, I never grew taller than about five feet, in human measurements. My parents said if I ever respawned, I might grow back stronger (but I wasn’t particularly keen on trying that on account of having to die before I could respawn).

“I don’t understand why you don’t just leave,” Felix said, insistently. “Why can’t we run away? Attack the guards and then escape?”

I touched the choker around my neck, its spikes pressing into my fingers. “You don’t think she makes us wear these because they look pretty, do you?”

His eyes dropped to my throat. I watched the pieces fall into place in his mind. “Can she zap us with these?”

I nodded. Three hard blinks and I managed to force the tears away. Don’t think about her. Not now. You don’t want to start crying like an infant in front of the new boy. Change the subject. Do some of the human small talk like they do in books.

“They’re programmed to detonate if we go a certain distance away from Obsidian. So many of us have been killed that way.” I bit my lip, unable to stop thinking of Shell. She had been so desperate to escape that she had run as far as she could. I’d watched the explosion, screaming at the top of my lungs for her to stop and turn around.

“Then we remove them,” shot back Felix. “We remove them and we escape.”

My father shook his head. “We can’t tamper with them, lad. Only Obsidian can remove them. If you or I try, the effect is … unpleasant.”

“We explode like bombs,” the Red Boy said, with macabre glee.

“So you all just sit here and wait for her to call the shots?” demanded Felix. “How do you not die of boredom?”

I leaned back against the bars. I’d got used to the boredom long ago. And I was luckier than most. Occasionally, someone would leave a book behind in the stalls and one of the more good-natured guards might slide it to me between the bars. I’d tuck them inside my pockets, stroking them like they were treasure. I loved reading. History books. Puzzle books. Books for kids. Books for adults. Non-fiction. Fiction. Anything I could grab. Most of my knowledge of the outside world came from the books I read. Stepping into fantasy lands and surrounding myself with imaginary protagonists whose lives were infinitely worse than my own gave me comfort. Even now, when it was harder to slip into another world, I still kept my books close by, hiding them under my blankets in case Obsidian caught sight of them. “We manage,” I muttered.

Felix snorted. “Well, I’m not going to just ‘manage.’”

Glow In The Dark Lady smiled. “Keep that fighting spirit you’ve got there, boy. It’ll come in handy one day.”

Felix turned to look at me. “You’ve never wanted to escape?”

I leaned back against the bars, feeling the cold of the iron seep through my clothes and into my skin. “Of course I’ve wanted to escape.” I didn’t tell him I used to think of nothing else when I was fourteen. That I’d thought of every plan from building a tunnel to taking a human as a hostage mid-show and seeing if they’d let us go in exchange for their life.

No matter what I thought of, every scenario always ended the same way—with my orange blood and purple guts spread all over planet Earth.

I had learned what Felix would have to: that if you wanted to survive the circus life, you had to shut up, contort your face into a smile, and perform. That, and only that, would keep you alive.

At least, it would until Obsidian decided otherwise.