Scales: Book 1 of the Fate and Fire Series

by Amity Green

  Peter just shook his head.

  Chapter 16

  Peter drug two sheets of plywood from somewhere in the back while I swept and we boarded up the front of the store hastily, to try to avoid drawing attention. Ezra arrived about two hours after the incident and was frantic as he tried to find someone who would repair and restore his antique storefront to its previous state. Librorum Taberna would be closed for repairs the next couple days. He grilled Peter and me about the girl’s possible whereabouts. When we’d done as much sweeping and cleaning as we could, I slipped upstairs to get some sleep. Not long after I made it to my room, I heard Peter’s door shut across the hall.

  Predawn colors streaked the sky outside my window. I curled up inside my wings, exhausted, watching dawn break through lowered lids. No reason remained to fight sleep.

  * * *

  Too short a time later, I was jostled awake by a sharp, clicking sound. My body still buzzed with the dizzy feeling that accompanies a lack of sleep. I didn’t open my eyes, I waited to see if it would go away, dozing off.

  The sounds pecked a merry good morning on the thick glass of my window, getting louder and more forceful with each new blast. I’d never heard pebbles being tossed at glass before and I wasn’t a fan. Sleep-soaked thoughts quickly gave way to confusion. Who the heck would be out there?

  Daylight pushed bright lines onto the walls and floor of my room. My iHome told me it was eight minutes past ten. I sat up in bed, not happy.

  The tapping sounded again as I walked on shaky, tired legs to put on pajamas. I drew up the blinds and look down to the alley below. Someone was going to get a big piece of my mind, or a good look at my middle finger.

  No—

  Brea stood on the concrete below, hands bound behind her back. A thick line of silver tape was over her mouth. Mascara traced dark circles around her eyes and down her cheeks. Two hooded figures stood behind her, one tall and one slender, obviously female.

  I knew before he dropped his hood it was Kai. And he wasn’t reacting to sunlight anymore. It was another trick. No wonder Peter sounded perplexed when I told him Kai was a gargoyle. Kai had never been one to begin with.

  What I didn’t expect was the other figure to be the girl I tried to help when she changed into a gargoyle. She smiled up at me with a sinewy, toothy face. I shivered. Getting used to my own skinless face was hard enough and seeing a new one would never stop freaking me out.

  Kai shook Brea hard by an elbow. She cried out angrily against the makeshift gag. Her pajama bottoms and a lacey sleeveless t shirt were rumpled and her feet were pink from the chilled pavers. Brea did her best to scream through the tape covering her mouth when she saw me. Long strands of her brown hair were stuck in the adhesive. Her eyes were wide and glassy, a side effect of terror I’d seen on my face, too.

  Instantly incensed. I yanked open my bedroom door and ran to the back of the store on bare feet and didn’t slow until I sprinted into the alley, disregarding the sun in the midmorning sky. I moved faster than I expected, clearing the store fast. Momentum gave way to an unenthusiastic stop where they’d been standing moments ago.

  They were gone. Brea was gone.

  My gaze was drawn immediately to something that looked like a photograph lying ahead in the alley. When I picked it up, I began to shake.

  One of the cards I’d mailed to Brea trembled in my grasp. It wasn’t postmarked.

  I’d inadvertently given Kai my best friend’s address in the States.

  I flipped the card over. A message had been scrawled in black ink over my purple writing.

  Be at this spot at daybreak tomorrow, packed and ready to leave. Speak of this to no one. Fail to do this and I will end your friend’s life. Make a wise choice. I do like her so. ~Kai

  How could I have missed seeing the psycho for what he was? I knew I’d never really hated anyone until that moment. Even considering what the administration at the Home had done when they hid my brother from me, I still didn’t hate them. I could safely say I hated Kai. I wasn’t feeling too fond of myself, either.

  Tentative steps took me inside, numb from seeing my best friend tied, gagged and terrified. Crying. I released the door handle slowly to deaden the sound of the latch. Waking Peter would create another problem. I couldn’t let him know what I was about to do.

  There was no telling where I’d end up a day later. I may never see Peter again, and that thought jabbed me in the stomach. Leaving with Kai to save Brea was a new imperative. Kai was winning the psychotic game he played with my friend’s life, maneuvering his pawns into place, preparing to call a check-mate if I made the wrong move. Brea’s postcard hung in my hand, her address in Austin calling a reminder in bleeding ink. I’d given him advantage, the best player on his team.

  Finally, Peter’s door opened and smacked closed down the hall.

  I rubbed my eyes to make them appear pink from sleeping and swung my door open to look for him. The time was past noon. He looked about like I felt.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” I said with my best, sleepy smile.

  “Good morning, yourself.” His eyes traced across my messed up hair, the sleeveless t-shirt and Grinch pajama pants, coming to rest on my polished toes. He half smiled at me with narrow, sexy, sleepy grey eyes, pulling a hoodie over his head.

  “Mind if I tag along this time?”

  “Not at all,” he said, leaning a thick shoulder against the wall by my door.

  “Cool, give me a sec.” I ran inside to throw on sweats, pulled on socks and shoes, and grabbed some loose change off my nightstand.

  We walked toward the smell of coffee and baked goods, keeping an eye on the overcast sky in case the sun decided to push through. Neither of us spoke. I shook inside, thinking about what was to come the next morning but I did my best to hide it.

  I ordered two Grande caramel macchiatos and handed one over to Peter.

  “I thought you might like a change from your usual.”

  He sipped a small taste, barely masking a grimace. “Not a good replacement for strong tea but thank you.” He smiled, at least.

  His smile made the long morning of waiting for him to wake up worth it. The possibility that I’d never see him again loomed, and that ate at me, making me determined to spend my remaining time with him. Maybe since we didn’t have to work at the store I could act a little lost for something to do without it seeming odd to him.

  We walked toward the bookstore, window shopping and dodging traffic. Victorian flower gardens caught my eye as we passed and he watched me gawk, smiling from under his hood. We finished our coffee and looked for what seemed like hours for one of London’s illusive rubbish bins.

  Peter grasped my hand, pulling me after him, downstairs to the Charing Cross Tube Stop. He bought two passes and we boarded the Northern Line. We found seats together, slightly away from others, which was pretty lucky riding the normally crowded Tube downtown. Enjoying the safety of being underground, we dropped our hoods.

  I forced Brea’s scared, tear-streaked face from my mind and managed a smile.

  Peter responded by turning my chin his way with a finger, and placing a soft, magical kiss on my lips. I was caught off-guard and gulped, loudly. He drew back slightly, looking at me to gauge my reaction.

  One small peck wasn’t enough. I wrapped my hand in the fabric of his hoodie and gave two quick little tugs. I was out of time.

  The hint wasn’t lost on him. He cupped my face with one big, gentle hand, taking what I offered with a disciplined touch. The sweet taste of whipped cream remained on his lips. I melted against him, craving any contact and the warmth of his breath. The world quieted. He filled my senses, making me want for nothing but more of him. At that moment I lived to maintain that feeling, wishing away the dark parts of my life, concentrating on each physical sensation and banishing each thought of tomorrow. Peter helped me, fueling my ability to lie to myself with his touch.

  We rode the Tube in big, lazy circles as long as we could, allowing tim
e to get back inside the bookstore before sunset. The prerecorded voice in the train sounded with “Mind the Gap” so many times I mimicked it, dead on.

  Peter walked me to my room that afternoon, holding my hand. I pulled him close for a goodbye hug. While I held onto him I leaned close to his ear, talking to him softly.

  “No matter what happens I will never forget today.”

  “You sound like you’re going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

  I snorted at the irony. Poor guy and his fairy tales and nursery rhymes. “Ever had like … a foreboding?”

  He tried to pull back some but I wrapped my fists in the back of his hoodie, keeping my face pressed against his chest. Tears threatened to tarnish a great day between us. I didn’t want to see him turn cold, all business like he did when I let things get to me.

  “You’re just tired, Tessa. It will be a bright, new day on the morrow.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I took a deep breath and bit the inside of my cheek. I gave him a quick smile I didn’t feel. “Goodnight, Peter. Dream well.” I turned before emotion betrayed me.

  “You, as well. ‘Night.”

  I used pillows to muffle the sound of myself crying once I was safely in the privacy of my room. The idea of never seeing Peter again added a layer to my personal hell. He would go back to his life pre-Tessa, working at the bookstore, bantering with customers and being charming. As for me, I couldn’t help the feeling Kai would succeed in keeping me away. I would betray Peter, had already betrayed Brea, and would continue to let myself down for as long as I drew breath.

  Chapter 17

  The night wore me down to nervous pulp, but morning still came too fast. My stomach was too tossed to eat so I ran on sheer adrenaline. My temperature was elevated, causing sweat to glisten on my scales.

  My backpack was jammed with a few necessities, keeping it light and leaving plenty of room—a thing that was contrary to my previous nature. I wished I had some sort of weapon to conceal in my bag. I looked around my room. My brilliantly colored, rainbow pen collection went into the bag with my journal. My room at Librorum Taberna hardly held an arsenal. Thank you, Ezra. I’d rely on fangs, claws, and a bad attitude to rescue my best friend.

  I pulled on black jeans, Chuck Taylors and a black hoodie over a Tinkerbelle t-shirt. Each time I blinked it was like I’d run through a sandstorm during the night. My outfit matched my mood without much thought being put into it—dark on the outside and cinder black on the inside.

  Kai was looking up at my window when I peered through the blinds to the alley, and so was his female sidekick. He smiled when he saw me. I let the blinds down, dug deep for some steel and walked outside, so tense and full of dread my jaw was locked to the point of pain.

  “Say your goodbyes?” Kai said as I approached. His groupie snorted a laugh.

  “You really want to play with me today?” I stared at her, half expecting a sarcastic retort, but she didn’t say anything.

  I approached Kai with determined steps, intentionally walking past her because she simply didn’t matter. “Where’s Brea?”

  “We’ll be taking a drive to get to her. She’s safe and unharmed other than what she’s done herself.”

  “What does that mean? She better be okay.” I locked eyes with him. I didn’t know what I’d do if he’d harmed her, but the way I’d felt lately, I was likely to surprise both of us.

  “Or what?” said the groupie.

  My temper flared. “I told you it was a bad day for this crap.” Kai had threatened my best friend’s life, and that made the chick’s existence seem completely unsubstantial.

  The cocky idiot shrugged at me.

  “Petra, enough,” Kai hissed.

  “Petra?” I drawled. “Did your parents not like you or something?”

  “At least I have parents,” she sneered.

  Something snapped inside me like a dry twig popping in my chest. Pent up, years’-old anger burst free. I swung hard and fast, bloodying her nose, a little shocked at myself. She reached for me and succeeded in grabbing a small handful of my hair, which snapped, sounding like static electricity. I threw my other hand hard and busted her lip. She cried out and covered her face with both hands. But I didn’t stop. She wanted to push buttons about my lack of family, she’d better pack a lunch. It was the single, most hurtful issue she could poke at. I launched myself at her and took her to the ground. Air pounded from her lungs with a sick, whooshing cough as I straddled her chest to pin her arms. I grabbed her hair at a temple to measure her out and landed another of my fists against her mouth. Heat surged through my veins. All I could think was that she needed to be quiet, not dead, but silent. She could never talk about my missing family again and I would make sure she had a hard time talking shit with no teeth.

  The back of my jacket yanked rigid around me as Kai pulled me off her. I barely found my feet before he let me go and grabbed Petra from the ground. Blood ran freely from her nose. The left side of her top lip was distorted and growing purple. She glared at me. I smiled, frankly a little impressed with myself. My hands stung. I may have broken a knuckle or two but I was wound tight, overheated like I hadn’t been in years and indulging in some old-fashioned stress-relief. Shame crept in but was ousted by the sound of her voice playing through my head. At least I have a family. I triumphed inside. Chalk one up for Little Orphan Tessa.

  Petra hunched over and spit blood-infused saliva. I snorted. It served her right. My body felt impossibly light. I bounced a little on the balls of me feet.

  “Enough!” Kai snapped.

  “Let’s go,” I gestured toward St. Martin’s Road and picked up my backpack. “I want to see my friend. Petri dish can stay right here.”

  Kai and I looked at Petra in unison. She wasn’t moving, still bent at the waist and spitting clotted blood.

  “You need to control your groupie.”

  Kai glared at me.

  I shrugged. “She started it.” I nibbled at a string of torn skin hanging from a knuckle on my right hand.

  Petra righted herself and began walking.

  Kai shook his head at me, squinting.

  “I warned her.”

  His graze traced over my messed up, ratty hair, bloodied hands and dirt-streaked jeans. I shuddered. How could someone so beautiful to look at be such a creep? It reminded me of an old song I heard once on one of Austin’s Country Music stations. Something about how everything that glitters is not gold. That was definitely the case with Kai. He was shiny on the outside, but full of nasty, rotting dead things on the inside. I looked away from his glare, feeling like a ruffian, and began to walk toward the corner, sensing him following me.

  A black Aston Martin waited around the corner, complete with an attending black-clad, hooded driver. I would always trouble over why the bad guys got the good cars. To own a car and drive in London usually meant a person had some cash to play with. Everyone else always hailed those stuffy, “P.T. Cruiser” looking cabs or took the Tube.

  When we’d driven for about a half hour I couldn’t help but ask him a question that had been stabbing at me since earlier, when we met in the alley.“Kai?” I said quietly. I didn’t really want Petra in our conversation, but she was seated ahead of me in the car, beside the driver. My only option to limit how much she heard was to try to keep my voice down, and hope Kai would, too. I took a breath and scooted closer to him, ignoring the senses that screamed at me, telling me to get back on my side of the car.

  “Yes,” he said, leaning closer on the seat we shared.

  “How did Petra know that I didn’t have parents?” I whispered.

  Kai sat straight on the seat, contemplating. Finally, he leaned close and gestured for me to, as well.

  “I compelled Brea to talk a little bit.”

  “Compelled?”

  “It’s merely a subtle way of pushing with the mind. She wasn’t harmed, I promise you.”

  I looked out the window. Brea knew so much about me. We’d spe
nt nearly the last two years becoming so close we called ourselves sisters on many occasions. Kai had taken Brea captive two days ago that I knew of, possibly longer. How much talking could she have done? Enough, apparently.

  Brea knew the story of my recent attempt to find my brother.

  I’d gone looking and found only regret that I’d even bothered trying. It happened a couple days before I left for London. A quick Google search found a landline phone number and an address in the Lake District of Austin for the people who’d adopted Robbie. A feigned fever with a little help from my hair drier’s “hot” setting to my forehead right before the Sunday school bell excused me from church for the day. When the digitized bells ceased chiming, I’d made my way off the grounds.

  Google map in hand, I’d stepped from the Capitol Metro bus, my imagination whirring happily with anticipation. I drew a mental picture of Robbie. He’d be taller than me. He had my eyes. He would protect me like big brothers were supposed to. We would be closer than any pair of siblings anywhere. I would hug him so tight, and he’d never want to let me go. He would smell good, reminding me of something buried in the past I didn’t know I had. He would tell me about our parents. We would cry together and then laugh because we cheated Fate. We’d vow to never be separated. My heart soared that day. My steps were light. I prevailed against life for once and loved every second.

  I’d walked five, meandering, sweaty blocks southwest and knocked on the Tomlinson’s lakefront mini mansion’s door.

  My gaze travelled over the impeccable lawn and perfectly pruned hedges while I waited for someone to answer. A magnolia tree thrust from the center of a side yard, heavily laden with cone-shaped buds. The house at 7013 Oak Shores Lane was seamlessly manicured, from the cobbled flagstone drive to the gleaming Doric marble columns mounted at either side of the sprawling, white veranda.

  The posh nature of the place chafed. I couldn’t help feeling cheated. Not only had I been denied an adoption, complete with parents and a real brother, and some sense of a normal childhood, the family was apparently wealthy. Maybe I had the wrong address. I hoped I did. These people didn’t want me, and for that, they didn’t deserve nice things. Tears welled, but practice helped me blink them back. I was hurt. Bone deep. Whatever the case, the couple that lived there didn’t matter at all. What mattered was finding Robbie. I would be cordial enough to see him or get some information and then I’d leave.