Scorch Song (Firebloods Book 2)

by Casey Hays

  “Hey.” He drops the pen, and rubs at his eyes, before handing me the dimpled grin I love so much. “You’re timing couldn’t be better. I was going cross-eyed.”

  He swivels the mobile chair, giving me the perfect opening to kick the door shut and climb into his lap. The motion sends the chair swirling in a slow turn.

  “There aren’t any cameras in here, are there?” I whisper.

  “Nope.”

  My lips don’t waste time navigating themselves toward his, and he doesn’t resist. He slides a hand right into place against my hip, and my world is right. I bury my fingers into the tufts of his black hair and let all my tension fade into this kiss. I have a feeling things might get a little heated in a second, and not in the sense I would prefer. Kane presses in, responding to my mouth with his own heat. His skin begins to shimmer, and when I ease away, his eyes are ablaze. I cringe a little, wishing I didn’t have a grueling story to tell him. I’d much rather just be together in silence curled up inside a tent of wings, our skin sizzling in unison. Kane notices the change in my facial expressions immediately.

  “Is something on your mind?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  His brows dip. “This isn’t another conversation that begins with the words ‘don’t get mad’ is it?”

  I allow a nervous laugh to escape my lips. “Maybe.”

  I brace myself. Kane is going to take anything I tell him in all the wrong ways—I just know it. He’ll remind me that Rylin fed me his mantra and that he’s still up to no good. He’ll convince me that Rylin is tricking me or trapping me. Or both. He’ll warn me that he’s a rebel who could get me into a world of trouble, and he’s right. I know he’s right. But… I can’t get the things Rylin said out of my head. I need to talk about them.

  On that note, I plunge in.

  “I just came from Rylin’s.”

  Kane’s dimples dissolve into a cold mask of stone, and all his blazing light fades out as fast as it came on. I can’t read anything in his face at first. It’s unsettling, so I prod him.

  “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

  “Do I want to know why?”

  “Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” I swallow, gearing up for his reaction to my next comment. “He was in my room last night.”

  His weight shifts beneath me, just slightly enough for me to sense his disapproval.

  “You let him into your room?”

  “No. I was sleeping. Dreaming.” I play with a button on the pocket of his shirt, thinking. “Something in the dream scared me. I woke up and there he was… sitting in my chair.”

  “How did he get in?” Kane asks.

  “I don’t know. Maybe… I forgot to lock a window or something.”

  My chest feels tight. That’s not it. The alarm system was on when I checked. I honestly don’t know how he did it.

  “And he just took it upon himself to come right in?”

  “Yeah.”

  His jaw quivers with intensity. “Now can I kick his ass?”

  “No,” I scold.

  “Jude, he climbed through your window—while you were sleeping. And then you went to his house? You’re feeding right into his hand.”

  “I don’t know about that.” I allow myself to bask in the initial fear of finding him lurking in the dark corner of my room. “I let him into my dream.”

  Kane freezes. “You dreamt about him?”

  “Just… a couple of times.”

  “A couple? How many dreams did you have?”

  I cringe. “Two.”

  His chest muscles swell on an agitated inhale. I get it. No guy wants his girlfriend dreaming about another dude, but this cuts deeper. Rylin was literally in my dream, changing the entire dynamics of dreaming.

  I feel sick. Kane’s puppy dog eyes, sleepy and green and gorgeous and momentarily full of sadness, stab at my core. I see every bit of the betrayal he’s feeling right now. I kind of can’t take it. I should have dodged this question, but it’s too late for that. So I go on the defense.

  “Kane, I have no idea what I’m going to dream. Or when. And I have no idea how to let anybody into one, or kick them out for that matter. And since Firebloods don’t dream, I don’t have much help in this area.”

  “I know.” He traces a thumb over my cheek. He smells a little like grease in between the whiffs of vanilla that always define him. “You’re kind of an anomaly.”

  I smile and lean into his touch. “Is that good or bad?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  “But… you understand why I’m curious?”

  “Well, yeah.” He pauses. “But… what does it have to do with Rylin?”

  “He’s had some experience. With dreams.”

  “So that’s what he’s using now to weasel his way into your life again?” Kane’s sigh feels deeper than the ocean, and it rumbles against me. “And you’re letting him.”

  “No, I’m not,” I retort. “It’s just… he had some interesting things to say.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…” I shrug, pausing a minute. “He thinks I can control my dreams. Like… compel things through dreaming. Compel Firebloods, even.”

  Kane frowns, irritation lining the motion.

  “Of course he said that.” Disappointment laces his voice. “He’ll tell you anything you want to hear as long as you keep believing it. We both know that’s impossible.”

  “Except that I can let you into my dreams. What if I’m compelling you to do that and don’t know it?”

  His frown deepens.

  “It’s a thought,” I shrug.

  I drop my feet to the floor and stand, pacing the worn gray tiles in the small area. That’s just it. If Kane had believed what I just told him, I’d be sold. Instead, I’m still doubting, and still curious, and still so unsure about what the heck to do with the information Rylin offered.

  “I didn’t say I believed him. But some of what he said got me to thinking.” I pause near the end of the metal desk to absently toy with a crystal paperweight shaped like a whale. “Stuff I think you should hear.”

  I prop a hip against the desk and peer at him sideways, jabbing the toe of my shoe into his boot a couple of times. The air conditioner kicks on, emitting a low buzzing sound in the silence, and Kane’s hair springs up to dance a little on top of his head. I wait for his cue. Because you see, Rylin and I can be on the same page. He can sprinkle all his knowledge over me and believe in my dreams and convince me of them too… if he can. But none of that matters if Kane isn’t on board. I don’t want anybody else to ride this out with me. Only Kane. To the bitter end.

  So you can imagine my relief when he eases his chair back on its springs, props his hands behind his head, and tosses me a semi-defiant but promising gleam.

  “Tell me then.”

  I sigh… and dive right back in.

  “Rylin had a hybrid sister. And he watched the Contingent execute her.”

  I search Kane’s eyes for his response. They’re so intense, the green deepening with his emotions, and the golden flecks flutter insanely. “They killed her?”

  “Yeah.”

  I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to touch him, to feel the weight of his body against mine. I’m in his lap in a heartbeat.

  “She could dream. Like move objects in her dreams, and later, the object would really move.” I hook a finger through his belt loop and tug a little. “I don’t know everything about how it worked, but Rylin has this theory. He thinks if she had been more stable—if she’d been able to control her dreams like he thinks I can—she’d still be alive.” I toy with a piece of lint that’s settled on his chest, concentrating on it instead of looking at him. “I have so many questions. About myself. My dad. About my dreams. Rylin seems to know some of those answers.”

  “And I don’t.” Kane’s eyes dance back and forth across my face, flooding with his feelings of inadequacy. His hand slips up over my hip in this protective kind of way. Like he’s
afraid I’ll slide right off the edge of a cliff if he’s not there to catch me. “That’s what you mean.”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just—” I break off, thinking. I need to say it just right. “He knows about the Fireblood who used to live at Willow Springs. The one I told you about?”

  “The deformed one?”

  I nod. “I had a strange dream about him. He looked straight at me and said my name.” Vocalizing the dream makes me fidgety. I shove to my feet and pick up the crystal whale, squeezing it in my fist. “Rylin told me that boy can dream—which would make him a hybrid too.” I take a deep breath, squeeze the whale tighter, and just say it. “I want to find him.”

  “Find him?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kane rocks forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Do you even know where to look?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “But… I think I can find out… with your help.”

  This piques his interest. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll need you to do something for me that you probably shouldn’t.” I whisper.

  And here’s where it gets touchy. The real reason for my visit. Kane scrunches his dark brows into a knot right in the middle of his forehead. Another deep breath, and…

  “I need you to compel Frankie’s father to tell you where that Fireblood is.”

  Kane eases back. The chair squeaks on its hinges. Fingers to his lips, he blows out a puff of air and stands. He shuffles a few papers around, and I know he’s digesting. I take a seat on the corner of the desk and reach out a tentative hand to tug on his shirt.

  “I’m awful, I know. Especially after I jumped all over you for compelling Jonas so many times, but—” I hesitate only a second and plunge on. “Dr. Melmack treated that boy before he was transferred to a different facility. Frankie and I found nothing about where the boy had been taken once he left Willow Springs. But I’m sure Dr. Melmack knows.”

  Kane’s cynical expression makes me anxious. He slouches against the filing cabinet and crosses his arms. “You’re sure Rylin’s talking about this boy?”

  “I’m positive. He wasn’t just a typical Fireblood, either. Nancy Babbitt said they locked him up to protect him, and last night Rylin practically said the same thing. It has to be the same boy.” I dig deep, searching for his weak spot. “And I don’t think he’s deformed as much as he’s defective. Like me.”

  Kane snaps his head up. “You’re not defective.”

  “Yes, I am. I have no inner-compelling ability, no wings, no telepathic skills.” I eye him with enough boldness to keep him silent. “I have to rely on someone else to keep me hidden. All I can do is sit here and glow like a Roman candle. And that’s only when you lift my camouflage. I’m a defective Fireblood because I’m a half-breed, and you can’t deny it.”

  “You can dream.”

  His sudden comment stops me. He steps in, planting his hands on my thighs.

  “You can dream,” he repeats. “That’s something special. Maybe the fact that I can’t makes me the defective one.”

  I offer a weak smile and take this moment to push my agenda. “Then let’s find this boy so I can compare notes. Who knows? If he’s anything like Rylin’s sister, maybe somewhere deep inside, so am I.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, and just know I’m not admitting that I believe it.” Kane rubs at his forehead. “But if Rylin thinks you can compel Firebloods through dreaming, then he could be using you. The Renegades have been trying to overthrow the Contingent for years. This sounds like another ploy to me.”

  “I’ve considered that. I’ve considered a lot of things actually—including the fact that the Contingent might decide to kill me like they did her. And I don’t want to die.”

  Kane’s hands tighten. The paperweight feels like lead in my palm. I falter. I let my guard down with Rylin—I know this. And I might have to pay for it later. But right now, what we decide to do is in Kane’s hands.

  I see his mind working, mulling over all I’ve said. “What will you do if we find this Fireblood?”

  “Talk to him… if I can.”

  Kane frowns. “Didn’t that nurse tell you he was unstable? Who knows if you’ll even be allowed to see him?”

  “Well,” I eye him with a tiny smile. “Maybe you could compel someone to let me.”

  He shakes his head. “There you go, using me for my compelling ability again.”

  “Yep.” I grow serious. “He can’t camouflage himself, you know? Nancy Babbitt told us his wings appeared at age five and never left. And they’re useless, kind of like my nonexistent ones.” I grin; Kane offers a half-smile that falls short. “You have to admit, the puzzle pieces fit.”

  “Yeah. Except that all of your information about dreaming came from the last person I’d ever trust.” Kane slides his fingers through my hair, a long, exasperated sigh emitting. “I still think he’s using you.”

  I drop the paperweight with a thud and use my legs to drag him closer, hooking my feet behind his calves.

  “And what if I’m the one using Rylin?”

  Kane squints, a challenge in his eyes. “I don’t think you have it in you,” he whispers.

  “Oh yeah? I don’t know how, but I let him into my dreams. If it turns out that I can control them, I’ll be able to keep him out. And believe me, I will block his butt so fast.”

  Kane laughs.

  “You sound like a renegade.” He plants a string of kisses across my jawline. “I have to admit, I’d find that kind of sexy if it wasn’t freaking me out a little.”

  I laugh, tossing my head back so that he can get to my neck, and I know I’ve won him over completely. He pins those green eyes on me and sweeps a hand over my hair to cup the back of my head.

  “Then you’ll compel Dr. Melmack?” I whisper.

  A few deadly silent seconds pass. I search his eyes for the answer. Finally, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip, stifling his smile.

  “I can’t decide if it’s my weakness for you or my courage because of you that makes me do things I shouldn’t, Gallagher.”

  One beat, and I crush him with a hug.

  Twelve

  Jonas talks us into bowling.

  I hate bowling. Never been good at it. But with the end of all my days potentially looming on the horizon, I’ll do anything just to spend a few hours with my friends. That sounds so ridiculously morbid. Too bad it might be true.

  I sit on the curved plastic bench with Frankie. It’s segmented off by color to look like individual red and white seats, and it’s ugly and uncomfortable, as every bowling alley bench should be. The intermittent crashing of balls against pins echoes in rounds every few seconds, and the smells of pizza, popcorn, and chicken fingers mingle in the air. It’s all very nauseating, really.

  Kane hasn’t shown up yet. We worked it all out before I left O’Reilly’s today. I got Frankie out of the house a half hour ago so he could work his magic. And now, I can’t stop fidgeting. The big digital clock hanging above the clerks’ counter is a never ending reminder of each desperate minute that creeps by like a slow death. The questions won’t end either. How long is this going to take? Will he be able to find out anything? Will Dr. Melmack know what happened? Will Frankie find out? Should I tell Frankie what’s going on?

  I bite my tongue as that thought invades. Next to me, she sips on a soda oblivious to the intrusion that is currently befalling her house, and I feel bad. Really bad. A traitor. That term seems to define me often these days, and my stomach roils at the thought.

  It’s time I had a serious talk with Kane about letting Frankie into our inner circle.

  Jonas lands his best curve ball, scoring himself a strike, and the happy dance begins.

  “Boom!” He goes down on one knee and fist pumps before rounding the ball return, taking Devan into his arms, and dipping her into a kiss. What can I say? The guy loves to bowl.

  “Good job, babe,” Devan praises. He swings her upright and two-steps toward us, offe
ring first Frankie and then me a high five.

  “And that’s how it’s done, ladies.”

  “Yes. And the arrogance is just a bonus,” Frankie jibes.

  I laugh. Jonas lifts his palms up with a shrug.

  “What’s the point if you can’t brag?” He wipes his hands on a towel, eyes on Devan. “Okay, babe. Let’s go. Slow and steady.”

  She snags up her hot pink, personalized ten-pounder and shimmies out to the lane, bending provocatively in her tight jeans. She wiggles her butt with a seductive glance at him over her shoulder.

  “This is how it’s really done.”

  Jonas’s smile couldn’t get any wider, but it’s short-lived when Devan drops the ball with a thunk. It curves too far to the right and gutters. Without a care, she saunters back to us, dusting off her hands, all smiles and swinging hips.

  “What was that?” Jonas gestures toward the lane.

  “My goal tonight is to win biggest loser.” She holds up her finger and thumb in the shape of an O. “Zero points.”

  With an air of over-exaggerated importance, she scoops up her ball and executes another perfect gutter move.

  “Well, that’s one way to play, I suppose.” I retrieve my ball from the return rack and skirt around her.

  “Dev.” Jonas teems with exasperation. “You’re killing me here.”

  “I wanted to see a movie, Jonas.” She perches onto the end of the bench and crosses her legs. “This is what you get.”

  I’m not any better at this game than she is, but I have enough pride to at least try to get on the board. So I shut them out, steady my aim, and knock seven pins down.

  “Easy pick up,” Frankie hollers. “You’ve got this, Jude.”

  “There you go, Jude,” Devan raves. “Go ahead and kick our butts.”

  “Devan, don’t encourage the enemy.” Jonas blows air through tight lips. “You really know nothing about the art of friendly competition, do you?”