Margaret Stohl

Idols


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       Dedication

      For my friends in Chang Mai,

       Chang Rai, Bangkok, Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur, and Singapore—and for their stories. Khorb kun ka. Xie xie. Terima kasih.

      PARCE METU. CEASE FROM FEAR.

      —Virgil, The Aeneid

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      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Dedication

       Epigraph

      Prologue: Pick a God and Pray

      1. Wrecked

      2. Out of Range

       8. Cold Welcome

       9. The Idylls

       10. Peculiar People

       11. Belter Birds

       12. Idylls’ End

       13. Four

       14. Dream Girl

       15. Remnants

       16. In a Heartbeat

       17. Merk Secrets

       18. Jump

       19. Golden Gap

       20. Buddha Bill

       21. Old News

       22. Hawkers

       23. Ash

       24. Wat Phra Kaew

       25. Ping, Ching, and chang

       26. Gone

       27. Future Past

       28. Lord Buddha

       29. Moon Mountain

       30. Jade Sunrise

       31. Beyond Birds

       32. Unification

       33. Introductions

       34. Salutations

       35. Endings and Beginnings

       Epilogue

       Acknowledgments

       Also by the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       PROLOGUE PICK A GOD AND PRAY

      I want to close my eyes but I don’t.

      I refuse. I won’t let darkness be the last thing I see.

      So I watch while my world spins out of control. Literally. While our tail twists and our alarms scream and our lights flash and the impossibly loud roar of our failing rotors fills my heart with terror.

      Not now, I think. Please.

       Not like this.

       We have twelve more Icons to destroy. I never bound with Lucas—and Ro’s never forgiven me for kissing him.

       I’m not finished.

      But with every turn, the rocky desert floor beneath us lurches closer. And out the window, all I see is a dark kaleidoscope of stars, ground, moon—in a whirling, chaotic blur.

      A cloud of smoke chokes my lungs. I grasp Tima with one hand, clutching my gear to my chest with the other. The outline of the Icon shard in my pack is unmistakable as its sharp edges push against my ribs. I always know it’s there—along with the power it once seemed to give me, back in the Hole. Even now, I couldn’t forget it if I tried.

      It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. Not anymore.

       Nothing does.

      The Chopper drops again, and in the front seats, Ro and Fortis almost hit the glass window. Wedged as I am behind them—between Lucas and Tima—my head slams into the back of Ro’s seat.

      “Bloody hell!” growls Fortis.

      I feel Lucas’s fingers on my shoulder and his fear in my chest. Brutus barks wildly, as if he could attack our fate and chase the end away—when in reality he’s scrabbling just to stay put in Tima’s lap.

       Stupid dog. Stupid fate.

       Stupid, stupid Chopper.

      “Hold on, mates, this may be a bit of a rough landing!” Fortis calls over his shoulder, with the sudden flash of a grim smile.

      “I thought you said you could fly this thing!” Ro screams at Fortis, and I feel the clash of panic and anger coming off him in powerful waves.

      “You want to take a crack at it?” Fortis shouts, too busy fighting the controls to look up.

      “Dol.” Lucas finds my hand and tightens his grip on me, lacing his fingers through mine. He radiates little of his natural warmth tonight, but I know it’s there.

      The tiniest of sparks, even now.

      We’re together, I think. Lucas and me. Ro. All of us. It’s something.

       Grassgirl, Hothead, Buttons, Freak.

       The night we fell out of the sky, at least we were together. At least we had that.

      The moonlit landscape of wind-sculpted rock and canyons whips around us, and I wonder if this is the end. I wonder who will find us.

       If anyone.

      Our seats are shaking violently now. Even the windows are rattling. Tima tightens her grip on me, closing her eyes. Her fear hits me with such force that her touch almost burns.

      As she touches me, a new idea claws itself into my mind.

      “Tima, we need you—” I search for the memory of her at the Icon, how she used her fear to shield Lucas from the explosion.

      I reach out to her.

       Try. Just try.

      Tima’s eyes flash open. She stares at her blood tattoo, the colorful streaks and patterns on her arm. She grips Brutus tight.

      Tighter.