Scorch Song

by Casey Hays

  “I feel it.” I rub a thumb in circular motions over the ruby stone.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Like someone wrapped me up as tight as they could in cellophane.”

  Her eyes remain on me a good few seconds letting this sink in before she turns to Rylin. “Is that how you feel?”

  He eyes her. “You’re very curious.”

  “Of course, I am. I’m not about to lose the opportunity to grill a Fireblood when I have two of them trapped in a car with me for the next ten hours.”

  “Grill a Fireblood?” His voice rises with teasing, mock concern. “I’m not fond of that image.”

  Frankie blinks at him. “It probably wasn’t the best phrase to use.”

  “Probably not,” he agrees. Silence, and then. “And it feels like a constant, dull, headache, if you must know. Tolerable, but there all the same.” He smiles at her. “Oh, the joys of inner-compelling.”

  “Right.” Frankie thinks a minute. “And now, you’re camouflaging Jude, too. Extra burden.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  I don’t dare look in the rearview mirror. I know what I’ll see by the tone of his voice. The same tone Kane used when he told me I was worth it.

  I press my earbuds into my ears and find the mantra, setting it to repeat. Snuggling into my pillow, I close my eyes and drown myself in the song.

  Sonata

  Kane and Jude

  “So we’re born with our Fireblood qualities?”

  “Yes, but they’re not very strong at first.”

  “Did you have your wings already?” I caress a feather.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” He flexes a wing, shakes it out, and folds it back into his side, prompting my grin.

  “A tiny, baby Fireblood. Precious.”

  He crinkles his nose at me.

  “And your skin?” My finger makes a trail across the inside of his forearm?

  “Yes. I’ve always been this handsome.”

  He winks. My cheeks redden with heat as desire trembles my core.

  I change the subject.

  “When could you compel and stuff?”

  “I was about seven, I guess. Old enough for my parents to start teaching me a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “How to compel an object was one of my first lessons. Mom gave me a penny and told me I had one week to make it float.” He hands me a crooked grin. “Pennies sink in water, did you know?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I didn’t know that when I was seven.”

  “Did you make it float?”

  “Yep.” He digs a penny out of his front pocket and displays it in the middle of his palm. “I made it float. And then…”

  He drops his hand slowly, but the penny stays right where it is, hovering a few inches above his palm.

  “I made it fly.”

  Eyes wide, I swipe my fingers beneath the penny. Nothing holds it up. Kane leans back against the end of the sectional, propping his hands behind his head, and we both watch the penny until I reach out and pinch it from the air with a giggle.

  “When were you able to camouflage yourself?” I toss the penny into the air and catch it.

  “I was twelve before I really started to master it, and by thirteen, my parents realized how skilled I was at it.”

  “Skilled enough to take me on,” I smile, leaving the other end of the sectional to slither over the top of him and settle my cheek against his burning chest. His arm, then his wings, engulf me. “The handful that I am.”

  “Right.” He chuckles and hugs me into him.

  “And your abilities have grown stronger?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about me?” I whisper.

  “What about you?”

  “When do you think my qualities began to strengthen?”

  “That’s a good question, and I don’t really know the answer.” He squeezes. “You are the first hybrid I’ve ever met.”

  I smile, tracing my fingers along his bare chest right over the sternum. His breath catches at my touch.

  “If you had to guess?” I peer at him.

  “Third grade comes to mind. It’s the year you heard Rylin’s mantra. And the year you began to feel like maybe you were different than most people.”

  “Different,” I huff. “I thought I was crazy.”

  “And now you know you were just amazing the whole time.”

  The sudden smile brought on by his words fades quickly. Because I wish I had always known. And I wish I’d had the opportunity to share this experience with Dad.

  Because better late than never is far too late this time.

  Nineteen

  “Where have you been?”

  I’m walking through a row of corn. It’s high. Several feet above my head. I squint upward, spot the tiny dot of the blaring sun, its rays streaming out and deflecting the blue sky. Against its brightness, the yellow tassels on top of the stalks wave in the breeze. They dance in sync to the sound of my mantra. The question comes again.

  “Where have you been?”

  I sweep my eyes forward, down the long row of dirt flanked on either side by never ending green lines. I walk, rustling my fingers through the leaves.

  The voice is an echo in a tunnel, loud and reverberating. Like the voice of God. I search for its owner, but I’m alone.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “I’ve been waiting for so long. Where have you been?”

  “I’m here.”

  At the end of the row, I see a boy hunched over in the dirt. He wears a white hospital gown, and his hands and feet are covered in mud. He hides his face against his propped knees, and he rocks.

  “Hello?”

  “Where have you been?”

  These are his only words, and they make me desperate. I run, whipping dirt up behind me, but I can’t reach him. No matter how hard and fast I run, the distance between us stays the same.

  “I’m coming!” I scream it at the top of my lungs. “I’m coming!”

  His eyes pierce me—a fierce blue, and a crooked pair of wings furls up between his shoulder blades.

  My mantra buzzes loud in my head…

  ***

  “Wake up, Jude.”

  A squeeze to my knee drags me from the dream. Disoriented, I lift my head. My left earbud has fallen out, but mine and Kane’s mantra whispers in the other. I tug it free and fumble for my phone while Frankie leans in through the open door.

  “Where are we?” I pause the music.

  “Klamath Falls. At a diner. Rylin’s getting a table.”

  I pull up and peer out the window at a fairly empty parking lot. Back 40 Café. One glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and I cringe. I look about as groggy as I feel. My mind plays catch up, trying to shake the dream for reality, but corn and blue eyes haunt me, and I feel weird.

  I stumble out of the car, dragging my shoulder bag with me, and follow Frankie to the glass door of the small tan-colored building. Two twists of a rubber band as I walk, and my long strands become a messy bun on top of my head. Frankie swings open the door to a clean, air-conditioned dining room, with crimson walls and red, black, and white tiles. Rylin waves a hand, and we make our way over.

  “We took it upon ourselves to pick the lunch spot,” he says as I take the seat across from him. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, this is fine.” I yawn and pick up a menu, scanning the choices. Frankie pulls out the chair next to me. The small, dining area is as empty as the parking lot and thick with the smells of fried foods. A clattering comes from the kitchen.

  “Chicken fried steak is today’s special,” Rylin continues. He thumbs over his shoulder. “You order over there.”

  He takes a sip of water. The girl behind the counter watches us, a pen and pad ready for our approach as the only customers in the place at the moment.

  “Well, then I’ll just have that.”

  I set the menu aside and stand, the ba
cks of my knees shoving my chair and bumping it out of the way. My phone buzzes where I left it on the table, and Frankie and I both glance at it. My mom’s profile picture zooms into the screen. Frankie catches my eye. It buzzes again. And again.

  “Are you going to get that?” Frankie asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  I scoop up the phone. I’m halfway to Portland. There’s really no point in stalling any longer.

  “Will you order for me, Frankie? I’ll be back.”

  The phones buzzes; I slide my thumb to take the call and press it to my ear.

  “Jude?”

  Mom’s voice sounds desperate. And it should. I weave through the tables and slip into the ladies’ room, which fortunately is a one-holer.

  “Hi, Mom.” The lock clicks with one turn.

  “Hi.” Her tone changes with a sigh, and for a second her breathing is all I hear. “I—I was returning your call. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I, well, I just didn’t.”

  “I know.” I allow my own sigh to escape, long and loud so she won’t miss it. “Treatment first, right? No interruptions.”

  I test her, but surprisingly, she makes no excuses. Instead, she gets to the point. Frankly, I’m grateful. We don’t need to drag this thing out.

  “Your call was interesting.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” A pause. “It was strange. Could you possibly… explain what you meant?”

  I fall against the door, my back pressed into the smooth surface. “Explain what?”

  I have no desire to make this easy on her. She kept this secret for far too long, and I want her to feel uncomfortable about it for just another minute.

  “Jude…”

  She draws out my name like a reprimand, and I pull my phone away to stare at the screen. Is she seriously scolding me? Because I’m pretty sure I’m not the one in the wrong here. I replace the phone.

  “What do you think I meant, Mom? Fireblood. Is that not self-explanatory enough for you?”

  “Where did you hear that term?” Her voice is sharp, almost angry. And now we’re getting somewhere. “Did Kane tell you?”

  “Does it matter?” I shoot back. “Who cares who told me when it should’ve been you?”

  My words sting deep. I feel them penetrate in the silence that follows. Fighting tears, I push my feet outward until my body slides a little lower down the door’s surface. Someone knocks.

  “Just a minute, please.”

  I push off the door to pace the small area between the sink and toilet.

  “How much do you know?” Mom asks.

  “Everything.” My voice is hard.

  “Everything,” she repeats. And another bout of silence ensues.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Mom.” I take a second, and then say it. “When I get to Portland.”

  “What?”

  “I’m in Klamath Falls, so I guess that means I’ll be there by dinner.”

  “Jude Ellen, you get in your car and take yourself right back home. You are not coming to Portland.”

  “See, Mom, that’s where you’re wrong.” I catch my reflection in the mirror, and I watch my lips move as I defy Mom’s direct order. “I am coming to Portland. And since you haven’t been around to supervise me for the last two weeks, I guess you can’t stop me.”

  “Jude—”

  “Kane is in trouble, Mom.” I throw my Ace onto the table. “He has a hearing before the Contingent on Monday. And they want me there too. So I figured you might want to see me one more time at least.”

  “What?” Worry scorches through the word. “Why? How—how do they know about you?”

  “Is that really the point right now? They know.” I shake my head. “I’m surprised it took them this long to find me.”

  “They should never have found you,” she clips, anger stealing in. “Your father made sure of it while he was alive. And now I see what kind of friends the O’Reillys make. I leave you for a few days, and they let this happen?”

  The sudden sound of tears in her voice stifles the angry comeback I’m ready to deliver. And so does the knock. I pull the phone from my ear.

  “Just a minute!”

  I rein it in and tread lightly.

  “Mom, you can’t blame them.”

  “I can, and I will. They promised me when they gave Kane control over your ring that he was ready, and I trusted them. For four years, I’ve been convinced. Was I wrong?”

  “No, you weren’t. Kane is amazing at compelling. He’s kept me camouflaged so well that I didn’t know a thing about myself or Dad or any of it. But… a lot of things have happened while you’ve been gone, and he felt like it was time to tell me, and—”

  “He deliberately told you?” Her utter shock is evident even through the phone, and I cringe. “So you wouldn’t have known otherwise?”

  “Like I said, a lot has happened—”

  She doesn’t let me finish. “You explain to me what possibly could have happened that would cause Kane to break trust in such a way. For heaven’s sake, Jude, the Contingent knew nothing about you. Nothing. We did all we could—”

  “I know.” I interrupt her tirade, angry again. “I found the fake adoption papers and my Costa Rican birth certificate. I know the precautions you took to keep me hidden. They didn’t work.”

  “You went into my room?”

  “Is that all you heard?”

  “You were in my room.”

  “Okay, yes. I was in your room, all right? Something I wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t been so busy drinking and sleeping around to notice me.”

  “Jude!”

  “Come on, Mom, you know it’s true. I have not been a priority in your life since the day we put Dad in the ground.”

  “You watch your mouth.”

  “I’m calling it like it is.” I spit the words at her. “Deny it all you want, but I have plenty of proof. The last two weeks, for example.”

  “That is enough out of you!”

  “Are you really in rehab? Huh? Is that why you don’t want me to come to Portland?” I’m seething by now. “Maybe you’re not even in Oregon. Maybe you’ve finally decided to run away from reality for good, which includes deserting me. I mean, I’m seventeen now. That’s considered almost an adult. Hell, in some cultures a girl is married to some old man and raising two kids by my age.”

  “Where is this coming from, Jude?”

  Her surprised tone makes me laugh. I just stand there staring at my reflection in the warped, bathroom mirror, laughing and feeling horribly rebellious.

  “Jude, what has gotten into you?”

  “Me?” My angry tears move in full force. “I’m dealing with a whole new identity—one that I don’t know how to manage. Do you know how hard it is to not be a Fireblood when you suddenly find out you are one? Hard! I’m working my way through a lifetime of lies, Mom. You’ve lied to me for years about who I really am. So what do you expect?”

  “I expected you to never find out.”

  “In what universe is that even a thing?” I half-laugh, exasperated. “You really think you could have kept this from me forever? How? What was your strategy? I don’t mean to sound morbid, Mom, but one day, you’re going to die, probably well before me. And Gema and Connor? Firebloods die just like the rest of us. So then what? Kane? You expected me to be his eternal burden? What about his life? His family? What if he gets married and moves across the country? Or the world? Is he supposed to pack me in a suitcase and drag me along with him?” I pause, my breath heaving. “You see where this is going.”

  “I’m not saying I had every detail worked out. I was taking it one day at a time.” Her voice grows quiet. “It’s all I could do after your father died.”

  “Well, you didn’t do the best job of that either, did you?”

  “Please, Jude.” She relents now, defeated, but I don’t care.

  “Did it not cross your mind that your ‘one day at a time’ plan was a bad idea? Mayb
e you should have abandoned it in favor of the long-term. Telling me the truth.”

  “You were too young.”

  “It should have been a part of my life from day one. Because then, I wouldn’t be cursed with learning how to live in hiding or how to control my instinctual urges all at once.” I pause before I dig the knife in an inch deeper. “Raising myself for the past five years, on the other hand? Yes, I was way too young.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  I close my eyes, bracing an arm against the sink. It really isn’t fair, but I’m not taking it back.

  Another knock on the door resounds.

  “Jude? It’s Frankie.” Her muffled voice resonates through the red metal. “Um… there’s a line forming out here. Just so you know.”

  “I gotta go.” I face my reflection one final time. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Jude, I don’t want you coming here.”

  “It’s just as much trouble to turn around and go back.” I turn on the faucet, watch the water run, turn it off again. “We’re staying at the Fairfield Inn in Beaverton.”

  I hang up quickly, and within seconds, she’s calling me back. That’s a first. I reject the call and swing open the door.

  Frankie, poised to knock again, stands at the head of a line of five glaring women leaning this way and that against the opposing walls. I lower my head and sweep past them with Frankie on my heels. She takes a couple of skipping steps to catch up with me.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “It will be.”

  The buzzing against my palm proves my mom’s persistence. I silence the phone and deposit it into my shoulder bag as soon as we reach the table. We are going on to Portland, and I refuse to talk to her again until I’m safely tucked into our hotel room. I plop onto the seat and cut into my now lukewarm piece of chicken fry. Tentatively, Frankie slips into her seat and folds her arms over each other in front of her nearly empty plate, a couple of fries and some crust from her hamburger bun the only evidence left of her meal. Rylin, leaning casually, his arm draped across the back of the chair next to him, watches me intently. I pause in my chomping and peer at him.