Singe

by Casey Hays

  I really want to beat my fists into his chest, and you don’t know how much strength it takes to keep my arms pinned at my sides. He can make all the promises he wants; it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to throw himself into a snake pit. And what if he can’t come back, or his father won’t let him, or his father can’t save him like he couldn’t save his sister? How will I ever get Jarron to Singe if something happens to Rylin? This was his plan.

  “Nothing’s changed.” Everything in him pleads with me to believe this, and I fight it every step. “You stay here. You continue with your dream therapy, and we get your brother safely transported once I get back.” His expression turns sheepish for a minute. “You’ve proven to be so amazing, Jude. I have no doubt you will one day be responsible for saving a lot of hybrids. I’m not about to miss it.”

  All the breath decides at that moment to leave my lungs, and for a second, they forget how to function. In. Out. In, out, Jude. My emotions wad up into a massive knot in the pit of my stomach. On the one hand, I know Rylin is sincere; on the other, this is a stupidly insane move.

  Rylin scoops up my hands, squeezing them.

  “You have to trust me,” he whispers. “Like you trusted me in Portland.”

  Yes. Like that.

  “You need to earn it.” I tremble out the words. “This really isn’t the way to do that.”

  His lips curve, a tiny motion outlining his own worry.

  “What’s going on?”

  Kane slipped in so quietly neither one of us noticed. No wings, only illuminated skin. And the light streaming in from the window swallows him up until he’s nearly invisible. Rylin lets go of me, shoving his guilty hands into his pockets, which only makes the whole scenario look bad—and like something that it isn’t. Kane moves out of the light, his hair wet and rich with the smell of vanilla, and a hurt anger spreads evenly across his face. I jump into action, ready to advert the emotional disaster that brews.

  “Rylin has something he would like to tell you.”

  Kane’s green eyes narrow, and Rylin, of course, doesn’t answer. So I do the honors.

  “He’s going to the hearing.”

  Stunned, Kane trips back a step. “What?”

  “It’s out of my control.” Rylin stands his ground. “My father insists.”

  “I bet he does.” Kane spits the words. “You’re such a good son, aren’t you? And my parents will be humiliated when their own son doesn’t show.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “No? Because guess what? My parents insisted too, and I disobeyed them. This is a ploy to make me look bad for skipping out. So that I’m blamed for the whole thing. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not what makes you look bad,” Rylin retorts.

  “Oh, cut the bullshit, Rylin. You know as well as I do what they’ll think.”

  “My father has a plan. He won’t let them penalize your parents if that’s your concern. You have to trust me on this.”

  “I have never trusted you,” Kane hisses. “Why would I start with the most crucial moment of my life?”

  “Looks like you already did though.” Rylin spreads his arms wide. “Didn’t you?”

  “You piece of—”

  And there’s my cue. I bounce between them just as Kane lunges, my usual role as buffer firmly set.

  “Okay, that’s enough!” I’m sick of all of this. I lock firmly on Kane. “He’s going; you aren’t. That’s the end of it. We only need one person at a time outing us to the Contingent.” I scoop up the Styrofoam box with Kane’s now lukewarm lunch and push it into his hands. “Here. Eat.”

  Kane takes the box with a scowl, but I’m serious. If it means locking him in one of those glass cylinders in the lab to prevent him from leaving this building, so be it. I don’t feel good about it—I feel guilty even thinking it—but here’s where my bravery ends and fear kicks in: as much as I’ve come to care for Rylin, I’d rather it be him standing before the Contingent taking the punishment for both of them than to risk my dream coming true. Kane bound, the butchers coming for his wings. A shiver slithers over my entire body at the thought. I press the heel of my hand into Rylin’s chest, pushing him toward the door.

  “You’d better go. You don’t want to keep Daddy waiting.”

  Tension rules and my sarcasm drips. Kane throws his lunch onto the bar. The container skids across the smooth granite surface and dumps over in the sink, and that visual about sums up how I feel. He takes off toward his own suite, anger accentuating every muscle of his retreating frame as he slams the adjoining door.

  I blow a lungful of air through my lips. It doesn’t matter how Rylin paints it, Kane is right. He’s going to look as guilty as sin. And that’s likely what the Contingent will think—that the flare was his fault. That he was the instigator, and that’s why he doesn’t show. I’m still not totally sure who started that whole thing. Seems to me they were equally at fault.

  Then again, what if my brother was wrong? What if the Contingent intends to take Kane’s wings because he doesn’t show up for the disciplinary hearing? What if I dreamt it all wrong? Or I only dreamt about it because my brother put the thoughts into my head?

  I cast off those ramblings. No. Kane can’t risk going, because we just don’t know if that dream was in the near future or the far.

  But sadly, it’s Connor and Gema who will face a firing squad because we ran, and my little encounter with Mr. McDowell brings this into severe perspective.

  Rylin pauses in the open door, handing me a weak smile that looks like misery.

  “I’m really mad at you,” I whisper.

  “I know.” He wraps his finger around the doorknob. I cross my arms, not giving in to him. I want to be mad because it’s stronger than my fear at the moment, but my tears plunge onto the scene, betraying my emotions.

  “I’m scared, Rylin.”

  “I know you are.” His auburn brows press together. “But try not to be. Can you do that for me?”

  He doesn’t seem to expect me to actually answer. He shuffles backwards into the carpeted hall, a sad curve lining his lips, before he turns away. I watch him press the elevator button, watch him lean his tall frame against the wall while he waits. He never looks back, and just as he steps through the open doors of the cab, it hits me that I didn’t think to ask about his own feelings. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say. And I really need to know.

  “Rylin!”

  I rush the elevator too late, my fingers grazing the golden doors, and my whole heart dragging like lead ropes.

  Seven

  I leave Kane alone. He needs time to cool off. Plus, I feel the worst headache coming on.

  I end up lying alone on that big bed, staring at the high ceiling—thinking about my dad. Mr. McDowell’s impromptu visit gets my mind to churning with images of my dad’s burnt body. Sean McDowell knew the Contingent killed him. But did he know they were going to? Did he try to stop it? Or did he just let it happen?

  How close were he and my dad, anyway?

  I’ve imagined what Dad may have suffered a billion times in my nightmares, hoping he was already gone before the fire-breathing dragon blackened him to a crisp. It’s a horrible thought for a twelve year old. I woke myself screaming often in that first year after his death. The year Depression hovered the strongest, walking our halls like an unwelcomed guest who overstayed his visit. Now, the images come with a different horror. A truth that was merely an educated guess before.

  I roll onto my side, angry tears welled somewhere in the bottom of my heart. I refuse to let them surface. I won’t give the Contingent the satisfaction of grieving. Not again. The time for grieving has ended. It’s time for battle.

  Except that one of our soldiers has decided to run straight into the line of fire.

  I curl into a ball refusing to think about it anymore. Not thinking sounds like the best plan of the day.

  I sense Kane in the doorway, his confrontation with Rylin still prickl
ing his skin. He stands still, not daring to cross the threshold without permission. Everything feels heightened. And strained. Like we’re on different pages of the same book. I need to fix it.

  “You can come in,” I say, shifting to my back. He moves to the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and looks me over.

  “What the hell happened while I was in the shower?”

  I study him. He’s riddled with anger; I tread lightly.

  “Rylin announced he was going to the hearing.”

  “I mean between you and him.”

  “Kane…” I throw my hand over my face. “We’ve been over this. There is nothing between Rylin and me. And to be honest, I’m pretty pissed at him for running out on us.”

  He stares me down, processing. But he knows the truth—about us. I wish he’d stop letting Rylin get under his skin. He should know by now he’s never going to lose me. The past twelve years of our life together is a real testimony to that.

  “Why is he going?” Kane’s voice is full of trepidation.

  “His dad thinks it’s the right thing to do to wipe the slate clean with the Contingent.” I don’t like it, but I get it. “And you know how it is; our first instinct is to obey our parents when they’re standing in the room with us.”

  That’s something Kane can definitely relate to.

  “Both of us should be at that hearing.”

  There’s hardness all over his statement. I turn my head to study his tall build in my sideways view, his muscles taut with the turn of events. I’ve memorized a vein that always seems to appear in his forearm when he tenses. I look for it, and there it is, unfailing. After a second, I pull up on one elbow.

  “Have you forgotten my dream? My brother’s dream? You shouldn’t be there.”

  “But I’ll tell the truth.”

  “I see,” I tilt my head to the side. “And Rylin won’t.”

  “He never tells the whole truth, and you know this,” he scowls. “Like his father being here. You think he didn’t know?”

  “He didn’t know.” It was evident all over his face that he had no clue. But siding with Rylin doesn’t help my present situation. I sigh, a heavy sound in the sudden, quiet tension. “Look, I’m not happy that he left. And he says they won’t probe him—that if they do, he can handle it—but if he can’t…” I trail off, and my dream screams in my memory along with my brother’s words, contradicting everything else. I swing my legs out of the bed and sit up. “I don’t want you to take any risks,” I whisper.

  The passion is getting a little intense, and it’s not the kind I like. His expression puckers; I reach for his fingers, and slowly, I reel him in.

  “I know you’re worried about your parents, but they’re smart. You know this.” I give him a tug. “They’ll figure things out. Just like always.”

  He absorbs this, the slight shimmer of his skin pulsing.

  “They wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me.” His eyes burn with low fire, magnifying the words. “This is all my fault. All of it.”

  “We decided together to run,” I remind him.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have,” he whispers, sliding his free hand up the side of his face with a sigh. “It was a hasty decision.”

  “It’s done.” I cup his hand in both of mine, and there’s a pleading in the motion.

  “And what if this is a trap?”

  “It’s not a trap,” I concede. This I know in the deepest part of my heart. But Kane’s doubt is thick with dislike and mistrust.

  “There are guards on the roof twenty-four hours a day, Jude. Are they keeping our enemies out… or us in?”

  I saw the guards. They look like part of the themed décor, and they’re hard to miss. And I hadn’t allowed myself to think of the reverse—that they’re here to keep us in. But… no. Petra does not have some clandestine agenda. She’s a scientist, and she’s on our side. I can feel it in my bones. But Kane continues to play the devil’s advocate.

  “If Mr. McDowell is setting us up, we’re sitting ducks.”

  “But why would Rylin do that? After everything he’s done for us? For you?”

  “He’s still Rylin McDowell.” He’s convinced himself of this. And Rylin’s leaving doesn’t help. I pull in a deep breath.

  “Why do you distrust him so much?” I really want to know.

  Kane’s brows furrow, and he answers with his own question. “Why do you trust him?”

  Okay…so this is how we’re going to play. I need to make it good.

  I take a minute to flip through the files of my mind, keeping my irritation at bay. I’ve lost count of how many times Kane and I have had this conversation. And it doesn’t matter what I say; until Kane sees Rylin the way I have—all the misconceptions of him as a child vanishing into oblivion—Kane will never trust Rylin. But it’s a two-way street: Rylin has to trust Kane too. And so, we are at a standstill. Nothing I say will sway Kane’s opinion until these two can find a middle ground. But I know exactly what to say to move us toward that end.

  “I didn’t. Not at first. Now… I trust him because of you.” This startles him enough to keep him speechless so that I can finish my thought. But his jaw tightens, unsure what’s going to come out of my mouth next. “You sent him with me to Portland, and I got to know him. And everything he said he’d do… he’s done. He kept me safe. He saved my mom. He got me home. Because of his experiences with his sister, he’s been able to explain things about my dreams I didn’t understand.” I pause, absorbing my own words, and my fear at his recent departure lessens a bit. “He got the tracker out of you,” I quickly add.

  “After the Portland trip,” Kane mumbles.

  “He still did it.” And that’s what matters most. He did it. He’s always kept his word. “If he were out to get you, he wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. And it was evident his dad didn’t even know he was involved with us until his Aunt Megan figured things out.”

  His expression slowly softens into guarded resignation the longer I talk. And when he finally gives out and sinks to his knees in front of me, eye level, I know I’m getting through.

  “This competition has to stop,” I whisper, flipping a hand through his wavy locks. When he starts to look away, I grab him by the jaw, pulling him back to me. “You need him as much as I do. You should be working with him instead of against him.” Another sigh manages to escape me. I weave my fingers together over his shoulders, ruffling up the curls at the base of his neck. “And it’s mostly you, Kane. Don’t even deny it.”

  After a long silent pause, the warmth of his skin penetrates my blue jeans where his hands rest on my thighs. Our combined illumination blends until there’s no distinction between where my light ends and his begins. Leaning in, he bumps his forehead into mine, our noses—our lips—close but not touching. Sweet vanilla hits my nostrils. I focus on his breathing, hear his mantra, hear my own—dancing side by side.

  “You linked with him,” he whispers, a tear in his voice. “That clouds my judgment.”

  “Kane…” I kiss him, soft and slow, like I’m making a promise—because I am—and the sounds of his mantra strengthen in the back of my head. He resists for only a second. I rest my thumbs against his cheeks, cupping his face, making him see me. “I linked with my brother too.”

  “That doesn’t count,” he argues. “Linking with family is different.”

  “Okay.” I’m desperate to make my point. “And it feels nothing like what you and I have when we link, does it?”

  He narrows in on me. “What are you getting at?”

  “That our mantras aren’t love songs. They’re the essence of who we are.”

  “I know that,” he snaps. “But links are intimate, made with people special to us. Family, lovers. Friends. Not… some guy who used to force his mantra on you like a common stalker.”

  “Yeah, well…” I can’t really excuse Rylin’s behavior there. I was spellbound for a while. But… that’s gone now. And I have to admit this: he is my friend. H
e is. But that angle won’t fly with Kane. Not yet. So I move on to something that might.

  “I levitated on my song.”

  Astonishment flashes across his face. “When?”

  “In midair above Portland.” I sweep in close enough to feel the heat of his cheek tickling the heat of my own. “It was amazing.”

  “That’s kind of a big deal.” He eases back.

  “Yeah. It is.” Warmth grows in the middle of my chest as I bask in the memory of that night. The night I discovered my own Fireblood power nestled inside me ready to bloom. “It was pretty spectacular… until I fell.”

  “Let me guess.” His tension ripples up. “Rylin was there to catch you.”

  I decide not to respond. No need to dig the knife in any deeper. It was Rylin who educated me on the power of a mantra—even in a simple, wingless half-breed like myself—and rubbing it in is not my intention. Instead, I tow Kane’s mantra closer, folding my song into his until he can’t deny the love filtering between us. I shiver into the melody. Because Kane loves me—deep and dangerously—and it’s tattooed all over the fibers of his song, of our memories, of our years spent forging a friendship that became a love story. His breath slows. He snakes his arms around me, and I relax, trusting in this. In us. And he does too.

  “I don’t want to be jealous,” he whispers. And he kisses me, and his lips are warm and full of repentance. “Sometimes, I feel like he has so much more to offer you.”

  “He’s not a threat. He’s an ally, and the two of you could be a force if you play your cards right.” I pause, dropping my forehead against his. “He’s gone to that hearing, and I’m not just saying this to make you feel better; I really think he’ll take all the blame for the flare at Spooner Lake if his dad doesn’t stop him.”

  I’m so sure of this. It’s a palpable thing inside me.

  “Yay.” Kane releases me and climbs to his feet. “I can’t wait to be in his debt.”

  He takes a cavernous breath, and I recognize the familiar twist of his brows, alerting me that he’s thinking. So I hold still, waiting and hoping.