A/N: Since the second book shot down this whole story, I'm ending it here. Alas, I cannot go on knowing that I am writing it wrong…

This is almost an alternate beginning of the opening scene of "The Gift" so just roll with it.

Disclaimer: Songs are by the bands Skillet and Train respectively. Characters are by James Patterson. As always, Whit's POV.

Standing up there on the gallows with a noose hanging right behind her and my little sister is freaking singing.

"This is the last night you'll spend alone, look me in the eyes so I know you know."

Wisty. My poor baby sister. About to die. She was hooded and all anyone could see were her clothes and her shoulders and down. She was singing. At the worst time. Of course. That girl...

"I'm everywhere you want me to be."

Dying walrus. I'm sorry to all walruses.

The One Who Is The One covered his ears desperately and began barking out commands to all those other Ones who immediately went about trying to grab my sister and getting her to shut up.

Being the determined little Wisty she was, she burst into flames. And kept belting out the lyrics to that Skillet song she loved so much.

"The last night you'll spend alone, I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go. I'm everything you need me to be."

The flames kept everyone and anyone at a safe distance. The hood on her head practically melted away, revealing her frizzy, flaming red mane. And she kept singing. "The last night away from me."

The One Who Is The One was still screaming for her to shut up and yelling out commands. He wanted Wisty shut up right away. Singing was already powerful against him, but her horrid voice was going to deafen him if she kept at it.

Not like I was complaining. I had partially adapted to her ridiculously terrible voice. It was almost good to hear her sing. Well, as long as it didn't make my ears bleed. Some of us still needed to be able to hear. Like me for example. And she could hear. She was immune to her awful singing.

And strangely enough, her singing wasn't going to get us killed, it wasn't going to get us in trouble, and we so far hadn't been called "cats fighting in an alley" because of her voice at the moment. I declared it a little victory.

So I did my little victory dance because Wisty is awesome.

As her flames tamed anyone threatening to come near, she continued, "The night is so long when everything's wrong. If you give me your hand I will help you hold on."

And now even the crowd was cringing. I mean, I love Wisty. I do. I wouldn't trade her for the world. She's the cutest little thing. But she is insanely bad at singing.

Have I yet mentioned the dying walrus? I have? Good. And if you haven't heard a dying walrus, how about... Yeah, dying walrus is the best reference I got...

Wisty was totally killer. I was cheering and victory dancing and pumping my fists into the air and totally living in the moment, but she was straight up HORRIBLE. I love her. I do. I say it out of love.

Her flames keep everyone at bay and she's walking out of there like she would walk out of our house in the morning to go to school. It's ridiculous. A girl on fire had a big effect on people. Especially when she's an awful singer.

When she saw me doing my rockin' victory dance in the crowd, she turned off her flames and looked at me. "I thought I sounded good," she said, checking over one shoulder as she grabbed my hand and began to drag me through the throngs of people as they recovered from being forever scarred with the sound of my sister's terrible voice in their ears.

"Wist?" I asked, smiling like an idiot as I heard The One Who Is The One shouting out demands behind us over the microphone's speakers or whatever and wanting us dead.

"Yeah?" she asked right back as she shoved an old guy out of our way.

"Can you promise me something?"

One of her thin, auburn brows arched. "Sure," she said, the wariness evident in her voice as if she had said it out loud.

"Never sing again."

Her lips pursed tightly. "Can I get one more song?" she asked, firing off a pouty face at me and making her cute eyes get all big and wide and begging. She knew how to play me like I was her little fiddle.


"Hey soul sister ain't that Mister Mister on the radio, stereo. The way you move ain't fair ya know-"

A gunshot blasted right past our heads as The One kept screaming his one stupid head off.

"Actually, if it makes him mad, knock yourself out!" I said, dodging another bullet. Literally.

And Wisty belted out the song by Train. "Hey soul sister..."

Surprisingly enough, we got away unscathed while driving The One absolutely bonkers. Needless to say, I did another victory dance. And Wisty said I was never allowed to victory dance. Ever again. Or dance. Ever again.

Fair enough, right?

A/N: Haha. So review! Thanks for reading!