Singe

by Casey Hays

  “This is your room, Jude.”

  It’s a small suite with a full kitchen and sitting area. The living room contains a couch and two chairs gracing the edge of a rug, a coffee table in the middle. A large television/DVD player unit is mounted on the wall, a huge vase beneath it. And you can’t miss the painting of the Fireblood over the couch in all its fiery brilliance. I abandon my meal on the bar and open a couple of cupboards in the kitchen. This place is fully stocked. It’s like my own private apartment.

  “I guess this will have to do.” I lay the sarcasm on thick. He slaps the key card into my palm with a chuckle.

  “Come on, Kane.” He turns away. “You’re next door.”

  The minute the door clicks shut behind them, I kick into explore mode. Off to the left is a doorway to a separate bedroom. My duffel bag and small suitcase have been left at the foot of the bed. I rummage through it, making sure my Glock is still safely tucked into its case in the bottom. The bathroom is huge compared to mine at home. I run my fingers over the porcelain spa bathtub, complete with super jets. I’m looking forward to taking a nice, long swim in that before the day is over.

  It turns out Kane’s living area is attached to mine. It takes him about two seconds to slip through the adjoining door once Rylin leaves us. With a sigh, he sinks onto the sofa, hands hanging between his knees, and looks at me. I’ve been busy trying to figure out the single cup coffeemaker, but I leave it and skirt the bar, giving him my full attention.

  “Okay,” I cross my arms. “Spill it.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, sighing again. “Everything feels… wrong.”

  “Everything?” I close the two steps between us and plop down beside him, running my fingers over his back, just to reassure him that I’m here. Present. Right now in the moment with him as he thinks it’s all going south. “Because if you look on the bright side, we’ve been pretty lucky so far.” I curl my fingers over his shoulder and lean in for a whisper. “Nobody knows we’ve left. In fact, everyone is still sound asleep back home.”

  His expression says it all. Give it a few hours, and our status will change.

  “Stop playing, Jude. We’ve run away from home. That’s kind of a serious deal, you know? When I don’t come down for breakfast, it won’t take long to realize what I’ve done. And my mom will call yours.”

  Yeah. And my mom won’t answer… which means three days max before she’ll have a clue. Besides, what does he expect? That she’ll rush right home to help with the search? She didn’t even offer to come with me to the hearing. No, my mom will not react the way the O’Reillys will.

  Kane rubs at his head furiously as if he’s trying to rid it of lice, and when he stabs me with worried eyes again, his hair stands up in an array of spikes that makes me laugh.

  “What?” he frowns with a flash of yellow sparks. “It’s not funny.”

  “No, you’re right.” I give his head another ruffle before I sweep in to rest my chin on his shoulder. “You’re right. It’s serious. But Kane...” I lift his arm dipping beneath it and snuggling in close. “I truly believe we’re safe here. I feel it. Don’t you feel it?”

  I don’t say it aloud, but walking through that casino with all those Firebloods just hanging it all out there in the open made me feel kind of free. Unrestrained. Like all the pent-up tension slowly oozed out of my pores little by little.

  “I’m not sure yet.” His readjusts, sliding his arm downward around me, his hand settling against my hip. “I want to. But… I’m freaking out. I’ve never defied my parents. Not like this. I’m just… I’m worried about them. About what will happen to them. Because they’ll go to that hearing without me, I can promise you.”

  His words make my heart quicken. It’s not that we didn’t consider this before we made the decision to run. But fresh off the end of my dream, Kane was ready to run. We were both on an adrenaline high, and it convinced him. But I see the shift in him now that it’s done. Today is the day of judgment, and our hasty decision doesn’t feel so comfortable anymore. I totally get it. There’s nothing I can say to change anything about what he just said. So instead, I loop my arms around his waist, a weak attempt at solidarity. The momentum tilts us backwards into the couch where we stay nestled together, not speaking.

  It’s quiet for the longest time. From here, I can see the digital clock on the television. It’s five in the morning. The thick curtains are drawn against the outside world, but on the other side of them, the sun barely lightens the desert sky. Somewhere in this city, the regents will soon be waking up to make their way to a hearing that will go down quite differently than they’d imagined. Have they sent someone to find the guys near Indian Springs? Did they find the trackers half buried in the dirt where they were carelessly, albeit strategically, thrown out the window of the Explorer as it raced down the highway? The thought riddles my nerve endings, reminding me that as nonchalant as I’ve appeared through it all, I’m still a little on edge myself.

  Kane’s breathing relaxes into a steady rhythm. I lift my head; he’s sound asleep. No surprise there. Except for those loose twenty minutes, compliments of those sleeping pills, he hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. He has to be beat, and I take this as a good sign. When he wakes, maybe he’ll have a different perspective on things.

  Carefully, I slide out from under his weight and lift his feet. He instantly curls into a ball on his side. In the closet, I find a spare blanket and throw it over him. Not that he needs it with his body temperature, but for some reason it feels like a homey touch. Something Gema might do.

  In the bedroom, I unpack my measly few belongings into a couple of drawers and deposit my toiletry bag on the sink. I take a good look at myself in the large and well-lit mirror that reflects the entire bathroom behind me. I don’t know what I’m looking for. A change in my appearance? Something that makes me look like a rebel? A renegade? A Fireblood?

  I catch a glimpse of my ring in the mirror too. That faithful little apparatus that has barely left my finger since I was twelve years old. My mind skitters back to the casino downstairs, full of Firebloods in their various natural forms, and a twinge of excitement begins a low boil at the base of my spine and slowly works upward. I can be me here. I can finally shed my disguise for good. And if I want to stay forever…

  I hold that thought. My brother is my priority. No long-term plans before I have him safely transported. But until then?

  Until then, I pluck my ring free from my middle finger and drop it into my makeup pouch where I expect it to stay until I need to be camouflaged again.

  I inhale, deep. It’s time to see what I’m really made of.

  Four

  Kane sleeps long and deep. So deep that within an hour, he’s lapsed into his natural form—without restraint. His wings drape over the sides of the sofa, fluttering lightly with each lift of his chest. Curled up in the recliner across from him, I watch him sleep, smiling when his breathing turns into a soft snort from time to time. He’d be so embarrassed if he knew.

  Don’t be fooled. I’m not accustomed to this Fireblood life just yet. Not by a longshot. I still find myself in awe of the little things. Like how beautiful Kane looks right now, his skin shimmering in soft, white light, a few orange markings prickling to the surface. His wings, big and black, continue to amaze me. Strikingly stunning, they surprise me every time they make an appearance.

  His right wing drops over the end of the couch and trails across the floor, close enough for me to run my fingers through the silky feathers. So I take it upon myself to do just that. He stirs, rolling his body and pulling the wing in close, protective. A prism of light flickers across the wall behind him, and my smile slips free. No chance of him waking anytime soon.

  I doze for a while, but I never really sleep fully. My insides are too jittery. I don’t know what’s in store now that I’m here, but I do know big things are expected of me—the hybrid Fireblood. I’ve always felt pretty normal, but around here, among all the other Fireblo
ods who grace this place, I suppose I’m some sort of an anomaly, the wingless Vatra u Krvi who can dream. Hmm… I guess we’ll find out what that means soon enough. I obviously have a million questions.

  If Rylin is right about my dreams, and Dr. Ademov can help, she could hold the solution to possibly every problem Kane and I have managed to create in the past two weeks.

  I make myself a cup of coffee and slip into the bathroom. My mirror image greets me from her side of the glass, her eyes swimming with orange flames, and I leap back for a second, forgetting that she’s me. Coffee splatters, and she shakes out an embarrassed laugh that I feel in my own chest. Wow. This is happening. I’m a Fireblood, and for the first time in my life, I don’t have to hide it.

  My skin has brightened just a smidge. Not enough to notice if you aren’t looking for it. But it won’t take long to realize there’s more to it than a fresh, summer glow from too many hours at the pool. If Kane were awake, I’d ask him to push the rest of my camouflage off. I’m tempted to wake him up, but my selfish temptation passes. He’s exhausted. And tense. It might be best if he sleeps the entire day. Just saying.

  I shower and dress, and half an hour later, I’m pressing the button to the elevator, too excited to wait for Petra to summon me. Anxious goosebumps tingle my flesh. The golden door slides open to admit me; I take my time stepping in.

  I didn’t notice this last night, but the elevator doesn’t give the option to stop at any floors between this one and the basement. There are two buttons labeled “B” and “P” For basement and penthouse. Either way, the lonely ride down feels like a millennia as it breezes past invisible floors with no access, and when the door finally opens onto the same red-carpeted lobby, I’m almost relieved. My claustrophobia was starting to kick in, and I don’t have claustrophobia.

  I easily find Dr. Ademov’s workspace again by following the same corridor to her sectioned off part of the lab at the back. This time, she’s not alone. Two men consult with her. One studies a clipboard, nodding intermittently while she talks. With her hands. A lot. Agitated. The other spots me through the patchwork window. He straightens, his mouth barely moving to alert her.

  Instantly, she turns, curving her frowning lips into a smile that doesn’t seem completely forced. The other man shoves to his full, very tall height as Dr. Ademov opens the door.

  “Hi, there.” Clearly, my visit has taken her by surprise. “I was just about to give your room a call. Please, come in.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “No, no. We were just being updated on our—” She hesitates as if she’s lost her train of thought. “—the lab’s medical inventory. Mr. Chama is our supplier.” She indicates the door, all business, but nervous-like. “We’ll see you again next week?”

  Supplier, huh? Shady stuff, right there. I kid, but if that doesn’t sound like a drug deal going down, I don’t know what does.

  Mr. Chama, the supplier, pushes his leaning body away from a table and scoops up a cowboy hat, gripping it with both hands.

  “You’ve got it, Doc.”

  I slide out of his way to let him pass. Clean-shaven and smelling of laundry soap, he chews on the end of a toothpick. A tattoo of a black heart with wings graces his left cheek. He gives me the tiniest “non-drug dealer” smile as he exits. But I wonder…

  “I’d like you to meet Dr. Kennedy.” Petra extends a hand in introduction toward the other man in the room.

  “It’s great to meet you, Jude.”

  Dr. Kenndy is definitely not British, and if he’s not native to Nevada, he’s lived here long enough to pick up our accent. He pulls his clipboard into his chest like it’s full of classified information and offers his hand.

  “You too, Dr. Kennedy.”

  “Please, call me Joshua.”

  “Okay. Joshua.”

  His hand and his smile, which peeks at me from a thinly groomed, jet-black beard, are equally warm. His eyes draw me in like fresh honey, but scrutinizing too. It crosses my mind that I’m all over that clipboard he’s hugging. I work to tug free of his grip; he holds on examining my fingers. And that explains Petra’s nervous reaction in the presence of “the supplier.” My ring. It’s been at least four hours since I shed it.

  “Petra tells me she never would have taken you for a Fireblood when she first saw you.”

  “Yeah, that’s the goal.” I pull free and habitually cover the place where my ring should be, strikingly aware of its absence. “I wear a ring.” I glance at Petra. “It’s okay that I’m not camouflaged, right?”

  “Of course, it is.” Petra lays a hand on my forearm and pulls it back quickly. “The lab is reinforced to keep you well-hidden.” She tips her head toward Joshua. “We’re fascinated by you, Jude.”

  “I’m sure I’m not so interesting compared to the Firebloods you’ve seen here.”

  “That’s where you are most definitely wrong, my dear,” Petra states. She crosses her arms and leans against the edge of a worktable. “You are extraordinary. I’m sure neither of us have seen a hybrid like you before.” She raises a hand toward her partner. “And Joshua here has worked with his fair share.”

  “How many?” I shift on my feet, studying Dr. Kennedy.

  “A couple dozen?” Petra answers, but defers to him for confirmation. “Twenty-five, maybe?”

  “Thirty-two. Including you.”

  “Thirty-two?” He says it like it’s not impressive, but trust me, I’m impressed.

  “That’s right.” He chuckles at my reaction.

  “And none like me?”

  “None,” Joshua smiles. “Your ability to appear completely human is quite impressive.”

  “Oh, well…” I shrug up a shoulder. “It’s not really me. I can’t camouflage at all.”

  “Perhaps. But something allows a compelled object to camouflage you. I’d like to find out why that is.” Joshua studies me a moment. “Your brother. “Does he wear something compelled?”

  “Well, there is a gold thread tied into his wing. But… it stopped working.”

  “When?” He takes a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbles on the clipboard.

  “Age five. Mom told me camouflaging Jarron was hard on Dad. It took too much out of him to keep that thread compelled, and it didn’t last long enough. Not like with me.”

  “Which is why Jarron is in Cedar Hills,” Petra concludes.

  “Yes. Under lockdown.” I sink in on myself thinking about it. “He became dangerous as he got older. No control over his strength and obviously no way to camouflage himself. He’ll never be able to walk into a crowded room unnoticed.”

  “But you don’t have these same physical breakdowns?” Joshua asks.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Why do you think this is?”

  “I don’t know.” That’s only partially true. I had a long talk with Mom about all of this in Portland. She explained as best she could, and this is what I relay now. “Mom says my body was more human than Fireblood. It’s easier to compel an object to camouflage me.”

  “Interesting.” Joshua jots down the new information. I lock in on the crease between his brows. A straight vertical line with a tiny hook on the end where the skin overlaps.

  “Please forgive all of the questions, Jude.” Petra taps her fingers against her lips. “Your father’s technique is quite extraordinary. We hope to learn how he managed to do this.”

  “I can’t help you there, but I can tell you what Kane has told me.”

  Joshua stops writing, all his attention suddenly and glaringly focused on me. I pause. Maybe I say too much, but I might as well spill what’s on my mind. I mean, these two are here to help; they need all the information they can get.

  “It takes a full, unconditional commitment to keep me hidden, and my Dad did this for twelve years.” An involuntary flutter of my heart causes a trembling of my lower lip. “He shared this with Kane’s parents, and after he died, the O’Reillys agreed to take me on until Kane convinced them h
e was capable. So they trained him.”

  My mind swooshes backwards over the last four years that this duty has belonged to Kane alone. A burden that he’s accepted as a natural part of his life, to always be at my beck and call without my asking him to do it. He just does. I could say it’s because he loves me, but I’m not sure this is true. He’d do it anyway.

  “You’ll want to ask Kane about the actual mechanics of it.” I straighten, working hard to keep myself under check, but the idea that so many people contributed to keeping me off the Contingent’s radar is suddenly overwhelming. And so, my own shaky voice gives my emotions away like they’re free. “I know it took a lot of discipline in the beginning. And energy. No swaying from the path.”

  “That is some dedication.” Petra’s hand flies to cover her heart, my words clearly moving her.

  “It is,” I agree. “It’s more than anyone should ask of another person, and I never would. I’m just lucky that people loved me enough to make the sacrifice.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. Medical professional or not, Petra is obviously moved by sentiment. Joshua, on the other hand, remains all business.

  “So this technique can be taught?”

  “I guess so.” I rein in my feelings with the help of his question. “Kane taught Rylin, but like I said, you’ll have to ask them about that.” I remember Rylin’s fear of failing me in Portland. Instead, he protected me like a guardian angel, camouflaging me like a pro.

  The two doctors exchange a private glance that makes me think their questions run deeper than just interest in me and my camouflaging history. My answers mean something personal. Don’t ask me how, but I sense this.

  “What about my dreams?” I test. “I’m ready to get some answers.”

  “Yes.” Petra straightens, clapping her hands together. “Your dreaming is tied to your human gene, so we would like to assess your physical and mental health first.”