{"product_id":"nest-of-tongues-isbn-9798217024346","title":"Nest of Tongues","description":"\u003cb\u003eA lyrical, evocative horror about vampires from the Philippines . . . and a hunter on their tail. A brother and sister fight to protect their secrets, their community, and most of all, each other, in this evocative novel from the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003ePatron Saints of Nothing\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntil a monster hunter turns up and kills a fellow manananggal, anyway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntil Caleb is marked as the hunter’s next prey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly, 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 \u003ci\u003ecan\u003c\/i\u003e 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 \u003ci\u003ePatron Saints of Nothing\u003c\/i\u003e was a finalist for the National Book Award and the \u003ci\u003eLA Times \u003c\/i\u003eBook Prize. Randy was also a contributor to the Printz Award–winning anthology \u003ci\u003eThe Collectors\u003c\/i\u003e, edited by A. S. King. His other works include \u003ci\u003eAn Infinite Number of Parallel Universes\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eAfter the Shot Drops\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eChronicles of the Avatar: The Reckoning of Roku\u003c\/i\u003e. 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\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmall-­Hearted Creatures\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLily\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eForget 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMost 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt least, we’re not any more monstrous than those who would call us such.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo, 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m only beginning to sharpen my focus when Caleb finally catches up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ate,” my brother says between huffing breaths, “didn’t you hear me?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A fox!” Caleb says with more excitement than his find warrants, breaking my concentration again. “Along that ravine.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI blink. Respond with a simple “No,” then drift away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI push my senses out farther in search of bigger game because I’m not here for small-­hearted creatures. I crave something fiercer. Something not just enough to survive, but to thrive. Something that will give me enough kulam to return to my true form in any darkness. To sharpen, quicken, strengthen, harden.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe forest rustles. The stars creep across the sky. An occasional airplane roars past far overhead, periodically drowning out my senses and demanding patience. We burn an hour like this. Then another. Then another.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaleb fidgets. A couple times, I even hear him reach for his phone out of habit, forgetting that it’s in the pocket of the pants his lower body is wearing back at home, guarded by Lola.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI hiss, clench my jaw, and put some more distance between us. In my head, I hear Lola urging me to take it easy on my little brother, to remember that he needs practice. He only started detaching a year ago—­something none of us expected since every other manananggal in our family has been female. But we all know inexperience is not his real problem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatience pays off, and I eventually find exactly what I’m looking for at the edge of my sense field. I tie up my hair, beat my wings, and slip away, leaving Caleb calling after me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMoving as fast as my leathery wings will carry me, I dart through the night sky. My world becomes the shortest path to prey. I descend as I close in, weaving through the treetops. But then I start to hear branches thwacking Caleb as he trails me. Not wanting the noise of his ineptitude to startle the creature, I veer off track and alight in an old-­growth redwood downwind, still some distance away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he finally arrives, I hiss at him through clenched teeth. “Could you \u003ci\u003ebe\u003c\/i\u003e any louder, bunso?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sorry, Ate.” He latches onto the massive trunk next to me, claws scrabbling clumsily against the bark. “I’m trying.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Try harder.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nods and hangs his head in that way he does, which makes me feel like I kicked a puppy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Stop being so kawawa,” I say, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to steady him. “But whatever. Can you at least sense it yet?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe closes his eyes. Stills himself. Flicks out his forked tongue a few times. Then his silver eyes spring open wide. “A mountain lion?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI grin. “A motherfucking mountain lion.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We can’t kill a mountain lion, Ate,” Caleb says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Maybe \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c\/i\u003e can’t, but—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, I mean, Lola says we’re not allowed to.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI scoff.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll Ta’Li need kulam to survive, but there are as many ways to extract the spiritual essence from the world as there are types of Ta’Li. We—­the manananggal, that is—­draw it from the blood of living animals. The higher up in the food chain an animal sits, the more kulam its blood carries. However, Lola forbids us from feeding on apex predators. According to her, it would bring unwanted attention and disrupt the ecosystem. Instead, she taught us to stick to primary and secondary consumers, gathering only enough kulam to survive from one new moon to the next like rats scavenging crumbs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lola’s overly cautious,” I say. “It can’t hurt every now and then.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s what you said last month. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. Mountain lions are endangered or something. At least I think they are.” He reaches for his phone—­in vain—­again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re just making shit up because you’re afraid this is going to be like it was with the bear,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You said it wouldn’t wake up.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA small laugh slips from my lips. “It shouldn’t have.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah,” he says, following me from one tree to the next, “but it did.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Because of your hella clumsy ass.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And,” he adds, “you forgot to mention the \u003ci\u003esecond\u003c\/i\u003e bear.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It was a cub,” I say, and dart to the next tree. He follows.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And,” he continues, like some lapdog barking at nothing, “in case you didn’t notice, we’re way past our territory. What if—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Whatever, Lolo Bunso,” I taunt, since he’s going on like an old man in a kid’s body. “You want to lecture me all night, or you want to feed? If it makes you feel safer, I’ll go first and take the fight out of it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis exposed stomach rumbles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI scuttle down the trunk and slip silently from one tree to another and then another. It’s a slow, plodding approach, but one Caleb shouldn’t have a problem keeping up with. Soon, we reach the canopy above the oblivious creature, which is prowling through the forest on its own hunt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI gesture for him to go for it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shakes his head. Which doesn’t surprise me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore Caleb can mess this up, I swoop down and latch onto the back of the mountain lion. It lets out a roaring cry that shatters the silence as my claws clamp into its sides. It tries to shake me off, but it’s too late. I dig my claws in deeper and sink my fangs into its neck. Veins and ligaments and bones crunch and pop, and hot blood pours into my mouth. As I drink it in greedily, the creature thrashes, stumbles, collapses, twitches; grows quiet, still, then silent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI take in my fill, strength growing as the creature’s powerful kulam surges through my spirit. This is how our kind is meant to feel. This is how we are meant to be. Not just a single night each moon, but every time the sun dips past the horizon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI draw my mouth away, unlatch my claws, and lock eyes with Caleb. I grin, lips and chin sticky with warm blood, finally sated. “It’s safe for you now, Lolo Bunso.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaleb is about to reply when a twig snaps somewhere behind me. I whip my head around, teeth bared. There’s something behind a tree in the distance. A figure. Human-­shaped. But when I blink, it’s gone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToo late, my brother follows my gaze. “What is it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI shush him and focus my senses. Trees rustle and shadows shift. Another plane passes overhead. I don’t feel anyone else around, and I don’t smell any human blood nearby. Except for the lesser creatures, it’s only Caleb and me and this dying mountain lion for miles in any direction.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter I’m sure of this, I turn to Caleb. “You didn’t see anything?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like what?” he asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHow could any human venture this deep into the mountains, miles away from the nearest road or trail? Even with most of my attention focused on feeding, I would have heard a vehicle approach. And what would they be doing out here alone at this time of night, anyway?","brand":"Random House Books for Young Readers","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233429991653,"sku":"NP9798217024346","price":19.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9798217024346.jpg?v=1767733623","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/nest-of-tongues-isbn-9798217024346","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}