by Casey Hays
Kane props a tennis shoe up on the edge of the coffee table. “I guess I’ll just have to live with being merely fascinating.”
“It’s a decent adjective.”
Her serious tone has us chuckling, but then, I’m on my feet.
“So what do you say, Frankie. Road trip?”
“I can’t believe you’re wasting your breath asking me that question.”
“Awesome.”
“So where are we headed?” She pulls out her phone and slides a thumb across the screen, and my sudden elation fades. “I can map out the best route.”
I wince with a sideways glance at Kane. “I can’t tell you right now.”
“You can’t tell me?” She bends her head to peer at me over her rims. “You do know where we’re going?”
“Yeah...”
She stares at me, waiting. Obviously, Kane and I didn’t have a single minute to discuss any of this before Frankie walked in on us, and I clearly did not take that into account just now. So I stand here under her strict scrutiny at a complete loss. And then…
“I’m not allowed to know where he is.”
I turn at Kane’s completely honest announcement, a little surprised he gave it. He simply spreads his arms along the back of the sectional, relaxed and confident and so looking like a knight in shining armor that I actually feel like a rescued princess. Frankie’s lips curve into a frown.
“Why not?” Frankie asks.
“I got into a little bit of trouble that I can’t really talk about.” He shrugs up a convincing shoulder. “But the less information I have about Jarron, the better. Just in case someone comes around asking questions.”
Frankie lifts her chin, her mouth parting just slightly. “Huh.”
That’s all she says, and I hold my breath. We don’t need Frankie to know about the hearing. Because then, we’d have to tell her why, and that would open a whole new conversation that might lead to us having to tell her Kane compelled her. Twice. Lucky for us, she doesn’t pry any further.
“All right.” With an indifferent shrug, she stands, meeting me eye level. “No questions asked. When do we leave for this unknown location?”
I exhale, smiling wide. So this is it. The mission is in play. And confronting my mom, facing a brother who didn’t exist yesterday, even the reality of what my dreams could mean—I’m at ease about all of it. Because Frankie, my lab partner in crime, will be by my side.
“Is seven too early?”
“Seven is perfect.”
It doesn’t take long for her grin to match mine, and I grapple for her hands and squeeze, nervous and excited all at once. Kane watches us, his arms crossed over his chest. He’ll probably have plenty to say to me when we’re alone. Like how maybe I shouldn’t be planning a road trip so close to the disciplinary hearing. Or before I’ve mentioned a thing to my mom. Or before I’ve divulged to Frankie that the real reason I want to meet Jarron has more to do with Rylin McDowell’s theory than our cancelled project. I’ll tell her… when the time is right.
I just hope I know when that is.
Sonata
Kane and Jude
“Why didn’t your parents have more kids?”
Stomach flat against the rug, I kick my feet up behind me and wait for his answer.
“Most don’t want more than one.” He watches me from his place on the sectional. One wing shifts.
“Really?” His words surprise me. “Why?
“It’s hard raising a Fireblood.”
“Hard how?”
He shrugs. “One parent has to camouflage us until we can do it ourselves. With only one kid, they can take turns. My parents switched off by the week to get a break.”
“Oh.”
“If they have more than one, most will wait at least ten years or so in between.”
I lay a cheek against my folded arms. It makes sense.
“Rylin and Rael are only two years apart,” I say.
“Yeah, well, their parents are crazy.”
I smile. “And my parents?”
A long pause. He slides off the couch and joins me on the floor, nose for nose. One wing settles over my back.
“Your parents were brave.”
Sixteen
Carson City is approximately nine hours from Portland by car, so I decide our best bet is for Frankie to stay the night. She heads home to pack a bag and make up an excuse her parents will buy for why she’ll be leaving town with me for the next three days or so. She’s smart; she’ll come up with something.
Two minutes after she’s out the door, Devan texts me.
MOVIE NIGHT AT YOUR PLACE. MOM SAID I COULD STAY OVER AS LONG AS I’M ON TIME FOR CHEER CAMP IN THE MORNING. JONAS AND I WILL BE THERE AT 7.
And just like that, a sleepover is formed.
As for the road trip, Kane didn’t argue against it in front of Frankie, but he doesn’t waste any time voicing his qualms about it the moment she’s out the door.
I drag my duffel bag out of my closet, throw a couple things in, and sort through my hamper. I’m going to have to do a load of laundry if I want to take anything decent with me. Kane, propped up against my headboard, watches me. I sniff at one of my favorite tanks and crinkle my nose. I toss it into the “to be washed” pile, and carry the duffel to the end of my bed. Kane’s sigh catches my attention. I narrow in on him, hands on hips.
“Okay. What’s wrong?”
“You do realize we’ve never been more than an hour away from each other in four years.” He shifts, adjusting a pillow into his lower back.
“Awww...” I lean in, planting a kiss on his lips before rustling up his hair and moving to my dresser. “Are you going to miss me?”
He doesn’t even break a smile. “I’m worried about your camouflage.”
“Oh.” I pause, a pair of jeans hanging over my forearm. So it’s not the actual trip that’s on his mind. “Well, can’t you just add a little extra juju to my ring?”
I plop down on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to jar us both in the process.
“Maybe. I need to ask my mom.” The worry in his eyes makes me jittery. “Never had to think about it before.”
Sadly, his comments remind me of how uncultured my life has been since Dad died. I haven’t left the state of Nevada since our last family vacation to San Luis Obispo when I was eleven years old. That’s depressing in and of itself, but even worse? A real fear of taking this trip without Kane sets in.
“Are you thinking it won’t work?”
He simply shrugs and toys with an unraveling string on the hem of my tee-shirt. But that niggling emotion named Worry begins to taunt me. I have a lot of reasons to be anxious about this trip, so the last thing I need is to be stuck in Oregon with no way to camouflage myself.
“We’ll figure it out, right?” I nudge him.
He pulls on the string; my shirt unravels another centimeter. “Sure.”
That doesn’t sound a bit promising. I concentrate on his black lashes. Today, they aren’t completely black. The light filters in through my window in such a way that a tiny bit of an iridescent glint I’ve never noticed before reflects off of them.
The truth is, I’ve noticed a lot of little things I wouldn’t have blinked at before my full decamouflaging. Like the scalding heat of Kane’s musky breath. A heat that never burns even when it should. I see the dust particles scattered across Mom’s big clock in the den, microscopic and huge all at once. The tiny veins on the leaves of trees? Yep. It’s not that they weren’t there before; it’s just that my Fireblood senses have made me more observant even when I’m camouflaged. I just notice things. And Kane’s lashes? They’re so beautiful in this light that no description I could offer would do them justice. When he flutters them upward and smiles at me, I’m done. I drop everything else I’m doing and clamber up to snuggle into his side. Tucked beneath his arm, I take a second to relax. It’s been a long and very weird day, and I’m so ready to stop thinking and maybe just take a nap. I clo
se my eyes.
“You should call your mom,” he whispers.
Here we go again. I shake my head, burying my face in the crook of his neck. “No.”
“Jude…” He fumbles in my back pocket and manages to hijack my phone before I can wrestle him off. He holds it just out of reach. “Call her.”
“Why should I?” I sound whiny. I’ll own it. “Shouldn’t she be checking in with me?”
“Yeah, she should.” He slides a thumb over the screen and locates her number in my contacts. “But you’ve always been the responsible one.”
A role I am so tired of playing, I might point out.
He presses the phone to my ear. I don’t bother taking it from him. I just let him hold it there while the intermittent ringing chimes on the other end. Twelve rings later, her voicemail kicks on.
“This is Ellen. Leave a message.”
“Hi, Mom.” I blow air through my lips and toss Kane one of my dirtiest looks. “In case you’ve forgotten you have a daughter, I thought I’d call to remind you.” I pause a minute, take the phone from Kane, and sit up. “And while I have you… just wondering. Does the word… Fireblood… mean anything to you? No? Okay, well...” I glance at Kane’s half-amused, half-wary face and crinkle my nose. “Call me.”
I press end and toss the phone away.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” he says.
I fall back into his embrace, not bothering with an answer. I’m so sick of hearing her voicemail.
“You’re going to have to talk to her eventually.” He runs his fingers up my bicep to my shoulder and back down.
“I know.” I huff. “Let’s just not… tonight.”
“Fine.” His tone is snarky, and the sigh that follow magnifies it. “It’s none of my business.”
I bounce my fist against his chest a few times. That, of course, is sarcasm at its finest. Every bit of this is his business. It became his business the minute his parents decided to take on the role of compelling my ring and then handing the job off to him. I twist the ring once, and we fall silent. So silent I can hear the beating of his heart against my cheek.
“It’s weird that Frankie knows.” It’s a random statement, but it seems as if one of us needs to say it aloud.
“Yeah,” he whispers.
“Kind of a relief.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s not… in any danger is she?” I peer up at him. “For knowing?”
His sigh is deep, and he takes at least a full minute to answer. “I’m not sure it matters anymore who knows what.”
“Then, why don’t you just come with us?” I ease up on an elbow, expectant.
“Okay, I take it back. Some things matter.” He rubs a thumb over the incision behind his ear. “I’m not about to lead the Contingent straight to your brother.”
“Right.” I sink back against him.
“So…” He pulls me in close. “Are you gonna tell Frankie where you’re going, or just let her figure it out on her own?”
“It’s still up for debate,” I laugh. “You know things might come up on this trip.”
“I’m sure they will.” His chest rises and falls, and my head bobs slightly with the motion.
“I’ll try to keep things quiet.” I sigh. “Waiting for the stupid hearing is the worst.”
“I know.” His voice turns bitter. “I guess this is the Contingent’s way of prolonging my agony.”
“Wow.” I angle my eyes at him. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you talk against them.”
His jaw tightens, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. “I shouldn’t have said it.”
“But you did.” I poke him once in the chest. “Which means you meant it.”
I read him. He looks trapped. Boxed in. Because I’ve said aloud exactly what he’s afraid to think. He slinks lower on the bed, one knee propped up, and doesn’t respond. So I move forward with what I really want to say.
“I don’t know that much about the Contingent yet,” I toy with his shirt just at the neckline. “Except that they sure are bossy.”
“Bossy, huh?”
“Yes.”
I slink upward until my face hovers over his, and the motion of my body rubbing against him causes a friction that sends a wave of heat flushing out of his pores. It runs all the way down my side. I shiver, and the smile that flickers to life on his lips matches the sudden gold flames that ignite in his eyes.
“Focus, Kane,” I whisper.
“I’m totally focused,” he whispers, brushing his lips against the area just under my chin. I close my eyes and keep talking.
“Well, then focus on the fact that I’m considering not going to this disciplinary hearing.”
His lips freeze against my flesh, and he hauls up to a sitting position.
“Does this have something to do with Rylin?”
I swallow. I’m not going to lie to him.
“Maybe it did at first, but now with what we found at the bank, I just… I have other reasons.”
He stiffens. “Jude—”
“Wait, let me finish.” I press a palm into his chest, and he settles back. “I’m not saying the Contingent doesn’t have good intentions. They might, for all I know. But Kane, all you did was get into it with Rylin. And I get it. There had to be some pretty severe compelling to cover what happened, but no one was hurt. And no Firebloods were exposed. Isn’t that the point?”
He runs a hand over my hair, and his expression makes me feel like a naïve little girl asking “why” questions like I did when I was five. Why is the sky blue? Why do flies land on you? Why is grandma lying in that box? Why, why, why? His reaction irritates me, and I slide out of his reach until his hand falls away. His sigh is deep and heavy.
“You gotta understand something.” He rubs at his chin, thinking his words out carefully. “A flare sends out an electromagnetic signal. Firebloods in close range can detect it, like static in the air.” He works his fingers into my bicep, massaging, as if the motion somehow helps him maneuver through his explanation. “One flare causes enough commotion, but two at once? That’s a serious signal. Big enough to catch trees on fire… and alert campers to our presence.” He closes his lids; I focus on those iridescent lashes again. “The investigation pointed right at Rylin and me. Talk of exposure, and the Contingent couldn’t ignore it. Even if they never learn of the audio, the flare was enough.” He pins me. “So you see, I did expose us, Jude. You know what my parents did to cover it up, and it wasn’t enough.”
“But you’re not a threat.” I feel like screaming this at him until he believes it. Instead, I sift my fingers through his hair, focusing on the texture to center my thoughts. “You’re good people. Good citizens. This was all just a big mistake, and you tried to make things right.”
“They think I’m a threat.”
“Why?”
“Because I was careless.” His brows burrow to the center of his forehead. “They need to make sure I’m more careful in the future. And—”
He breaks off; I prod him with a nudge of my elbow. “What?”
“I’ve exposed you, Jude.” His fingers slide downward to rest against the cut of my waist. “The number one violation of a Fireblood’s trust, and I did it to you.”
I gnaw on my lower lip, mulling over all of this. But I shake my head.
“I will never blame you.”
He nods, for my sake. I don’t feel one bit betrayed, but nothing I could say will make him feel better about it. He wears it like a badge of guilt, as if he’s already been convicted of everything. I loathe the Contingent for putting him through this.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do.” Kane’s voice floods with a cautious warning. “But my parents are expecting to take you with us to Vegas on Monday.”
I know what he’s implying. If I don’t show up at the hearing as requested, it might bring the hammer down on his whole family. That’s the last thing I want, of course. But at the same time, I have to think abo
ut survival. I am the illegal hybrid in all of this. And neither Gema nor Connor has guaranteed that I will be safe in the hands of the Contingent.
“After I see my brother,” I whisper. “I think I’ll have a better idea of what to do.”
“Okay.”
Neither one of us feels like talking anymore, so I snuggle into Kane until he curls his strong arms around me, resting his cheek against the top of my head. At some point, we fall asleep. I dream, a choppy, discombobulated kind of dream full of different people pulled apart and put back together in weird mixes speaking a language I can’t understand. A nap dream.
Those never make sense.
Seventeen
An hour later, Devan and Jonas sweep into my house with three boxes of pizza. It was Devan’s turn to choose the movie, and I’m not surprised when she pulls a romance out of her bag and winks at me. By the time Frankie arrives, we’ve eaten two of the three boxes of pizza, and the guys have definitely figured out that Rumble Row has absolutely nothing to do with drag racing or ultimate fighting. But it serves Devan’s intended purpose. Jonas can’t keep his hands off of her, and eventually, they end up spending the last forty minutes of the movie somewhere else in the house. Everything feels right tonight. Just another typical movie night.
But I’m not fooled. There is no longer such a thing as a typical anything.
It’s nearly ten when I saunter out to the dark porch with Kane. I can just make out Devan’s silhouette standing on the sidebar of Jonas’s Toyota Tundra, one leg kicked out behind her as she leans in through the open driver’s side window for one last long and sloppy kiss. Jonas blares the lights, blinding us, and Devan hops down with a giggle and a wave. He revs the engine, honks twice, and squeals out of the drive. Mr. Tomlinson’s porch light flickers on. He steps through his front door with a bat in hand just as Devan steals up the steps and out of sight. We all three duck, kneeling under the dark shadows of the veranda’s railings.
“Whew,” Devan whispers. “Close one.”
