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A lyrical, fantastical horror about vampires from the Philippines . . . and a hunter on their tail. Two siblings fight to protect their secrets, their community, and most of all, each other, in this evocative novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Patron Saints of Nothing.
As Filipino vampires known as manananggal, Lily and her brother Caleb understand the value of a secret. After all, to hide is to survive. To lie is to live. They'd never harm another person-but people only believe their worst fears around creatures of myth. So the siblings stay quiet. They follow their community's rules.
Until a monster hunter turns up and kills a fellow manananggal, anyway.
Until Caleb is marked as the hunter's next prey.
Suddenly, he and Lily realize there's always been more at stake than the lives of their people. Because when doing everything "right" is still a death sentence, what can they take as truth? As the hunter nears, the siblings must decide if they'll be driven from the only home they've ever known . . . or fight to protect a community that may already be lost. Randy Ribay is a Filipino American author of young adult fiction. His novel Patron Saints of Nothing was a finalist for the National Book Award and the LA Times Book Prize. Randy was also a contributor to the Printz Award–winning anthology The Collectors, edited by A. S. King. His other works include An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes, After the Shot Drops, and Chronicles of the Avatar: The Reckoning of Roku. Born in the Philippines and raised in the Midwest, Randy currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, son, and cat-like dog. 1
Small-Hearted Creatures
Lily
Forget the light-we navigate by blood. The scent, the warmth, the coursing movement. We map the shape of life clinging to the bay like crimson constellations below our beating wings, below the moonless sky.
Most people lie sleeping, veins pulsing in soft, steady rhythms. We're no threat to them. Despite what you may have heard, we don't slurp fetuses from wombs or pluck babies from their cribs or devour humans in shadow-soaked alleyways. Despite what you may have heard, we're not monsters.
At least, we're not any more monstrous than those who would call us such.
So, I soar southeast. Past the foothills, past the fire trails, and deep into the mountains of the Diablo Range. Caleb is calling for me to slow down-as usual-but I ignore him. He needs to learn to keep up.
When I reach our hunting grounds, I catch an updraft, my wings angling until I'm hovering silently above the tree line. I close my eyes, open my arms, and focus. Like dipping fingers into a river, I let the entrails hanging from my severed torso feel the air. I shut out the white noise of breaking waves and midnight highway traffic miles at my back and extend my senses, savoring this rare moment when I am allowed to be-need to be-fully myself.
It is a cold, clear autumn night. The air tastes of dried grass and distant wildfires. Leaves rustle. Insects click and trill. In the meadow below and behind me, an owl swoops out of the treetops and plucks a field mouse from the ground.
I'm only beginning to sharpen my focus when Caleb finally catches up.
"Ate," my brother says between huffing breaths, "didn't you hear me?"
I shush him and return to listening and smelling and tasting and feeling the evening, seeking familiar patterns in blood. For a long time, it's nothing but night birds, bats, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, and mice.
"A fox!" Caleb says with more excitement than his find warrants, breaking my concentration again. "Along that ravine."
I sigh, open my eyes, and turn toward him. Like me, my little brother's a pair of glowing silver eyes in the darkness, his blue-black skin and wings rendering him otherwise invisible.
I blink. Respond with a simple "No," then drift away.
I push my senses out farth
As Filipino vampires known as manananggal, Lily and her brother Caleb understand the value of a secret. After all, to hide is to survive. To lie is to live. They'd never harm another person-but people only believe their worst fears around creatures of myth. So the siblings stay quiet. They follow their community's rules.
Until a monster hunter turns up and kills a fellow manananggal, anyway.
Until Caleb is marked as the hunter's next prey.
Suddenly, he and Lily realize there's always been more at stake than the lives of their people. Because when doing everything "right" is still a death sentence, what can they take as truth? As the hunter nears, the siblings must decide if they'll be driven from the only home they've ever known . . . or fight to protect a community that may already be lost. Randy Ribay is a Filipino American author of young adult fiction. His novel Patron Saints of Nothing was a finalist for the National Book Award and the LA Times Book Prize. Randy was also a contributor to the Printz Award–winning anthology The Collectors, edited by A. S. King. His other works include An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes, After the Shot Drops, and Chronicles of the Avatar: The Reckoning of Roku. Born in the Philippines and raised in the Midwest, Randy currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, son, and cat-like dog. 1
Small-Hearted Creatures
Lily
Forget the light-we navigate by blood. The scent, the warmth, the coursing movement. We map the shape of life clinging to the bay like crimson constellations below our beating wings, below the moonless sky.
Most people lie sleeping, veins pulsing in soft, steady rhythms. We're no threat to them. Despite what you may have heard, we don't slurp fetuses from wombs or pluck babies from their cribs or devour humans in shadow-soaked alleyways. Despite what you may have heard, we're not monsters.
At least, we're not any more monstrous than those who would call us such.
So, I soar southeast. Past the foothills, past the fire trails, and deep into the mountains of the Diablo Range. Caleb is calling for me to slow down-as usual-but I ignore him. He needs to learn to keep up.
When I reach our hunting grounds, I catch an updraft, my wings angling until I'm hovering silently above the tree line. I close my eyes, open my arms, and focus. Like dipping fingers into a river, I let the entrails hanging from my severed torso feel the air. I shut out the white noise of breaking waves and midnight highway traffic miles at my back and extend my senses, savoring this rare moment when I am allowed to be-need to be-fully myself.
It is a cold, clear autumn night. The air tastes of dried grass and distant wildfires. Leaves rustle. Insects click and trill. In the meadow below and behind me, an owl swoops out of the treetops and plucks a field mouse from the ground.
I'm only beginning to sharpen my focus when Caleb finally catches up.
"Ate," my brother says between huffing breaths, "didn't you hear me?"
I shush him and return to listening and smelling and tasting and feeling the evening, seeking familiar patterns in blood. For a long time, it's nothing but night birds, bats, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, and mice.
"A fox!" Caleb says with more excitement than his find warrants, breaking my concentration again. "Along that ravine."
I sigh, open my eyes, and turn toward him. Like me, my little brother's a pair of glowing silver eyes in the darkness, his blue-black skin and wings rendering him otherwise invisible.
I blink. Respond with a simple "No," then drift away.
I push my senses out farth