Singe

by Casey Hays

  I slip into it, pinning up my hair to show off the low V-cut in the back. Why not? It’s Vegas. I dig the ruby ring from the bottom of my cosmetic bag and make my way to Kane’s suite. He catches sight of my reflection behind him in the full length mirror.

  “Should we be human tonight?” I ask, holding up the ring. It’s barely compelled, but I sense the camouflage toying with me, my pores struggling against it.

  His dimples penetrate, and the fiery glance alone drags me toward him. Heat dances around us like invisible smoke, and I wrap my arms around his waist as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. My own eyes join the dance in low flames, and I swell with excitement at the sight of them. I don’t want to camouflage. Not ever again if I had my way.

  “That’s a hard one.” He turns his head, laying on a full-fledged kiss that sends my heartbeat to my toes. “You jumbled up my good decision-making skills when you walked in.”

  I lift my chin. “But…”

  He crinkles his nose. “We’d better be human,” he whispers.

  With a sigh and a begrudging nod, I slide the ring on, and Kane works his magic. One inch at a time, the camouflage glides over me. My reflection follows suit, and in a matter of seconds, Jude the Fireblood has vanished inside the folds of the girl I’ve always known. My dull brown eyes blink at me, not a trace of fire left in them. Kane eases off the rest of his Fireblood qualities that linger over his skin, and there we stand: two ordinary teens with no worries in the world. And we look sharp as hell too.

  The casino is bustling with activity when we enter. We’re too young to be in here, but no one pays any attention to us. The poker machines clink, a crowd of gamblers around the craps table explodes as someone rolls the right numbers, and Kane, dressed in black slacks and a silky, long-sleeved, button-up looks all of twenty-one and dashing. I feel kind of pretty clinging to his arm in my strappy dress. I even slapped on a little extra makeup for the occasion. Kane’s warm fingers brush my bare skin where the V-cut of my dress reveals my back, leaving me all tingly inside.

  I nudge him as we pass the entrance to the vaudeville theater where a snaking line forms for the first showing. A low mumbling of conversation and occasional laughter mingles with the sound of one of the show tunes. Two of the actors, fully decamouflaged and smiling at the guests as they pass through, stand to one side under the strikingly bright spotlights that shine over the double doors. She wears a silky, opaque cover-up that does nothing to hide the scanty, sequined bikini beneath it. Her golden-hued wings are also dotted with sparkling sequins that match her eight inch gold heels. As if she’s not already tall enough. Her makeup is thick, the lashes surrounding her flaming eyes as fake as ever. The handsome male Fireblood with her wears a top hat and has one of those long, thin moustaches that curls up on the ends. He has on a good amount of makeup himself, and his wings are dyed fluorescent purple to match his vest, which bares his muscular arms. A cane he doesn’t need hangs in the crook of his bent elbow, just part of the costuming. Hazy, purple fog simmers up all around them, adding to the ambiance. Together, they make a brilliant impression.

  “It’s so weird to see them exposed like that,” I say. “Right in the open.”

  “Yeah,” Kane agrees, and I sense the ruffling of his invisible wings. “It’s freaking me out a little.”

  I’m fascinated by how caricature they look—like they recently stepped right out of a Claymation movie. People in line stop to get their pictures taken with the two, which seems completely out of line, but they both comply, their illuminated faces smiling for the cameras. On the walls behind them hang posters of Firebloods fully flared. It’s unreal.

  We shuffle our way through a few more gambling tables to the restaurant. The cocktail waitresses, wearing scanty skirts and lining up at the bar to wait for their drink orders to be filled, are in partial natural form. Tonight, they reveal their wings, their eyes flicker lightly, but they keep their skin tone camouflaged. The same goes for the pit bosses, bartenders, and dealers, as if only halfway decamouflaging is the uniform dress code for the night. Neither Kane nor I have to struggle with playing the part of mesmerized humans. We just are.

  From its lush carpet to the low lighting and cozy booths, the restaurant, Fire and Ash, gives off an intentionally romantic vibe. In the very center, there is a fountain shaped like a volcano. Steam emits from the opening at the top and water trickles over the sides, changing from red to orange to gold and back again. The Phoenix, wings spread and body lit with flames, perches on the very top, a secret tribute to Dr. Amir Ademov that only a select few would be privy to. We slide into the small round booth in the romantically darkened back room. As soon as the hostess seats us and leaves, I feel free enough to toss Kane an unmasked grin.

  “This is awesome.” I do a little happy dance in my seat. “I mean, look at everyone. So free.”

  “Calm down, Gallagher,” Kane laughs, but he takes his own quick moment to scan the room.

  There are a lot of ordinary people here, but some of the guests are Firebloods. A few are definitely fakes—humans dressed in fanfare with wire and tulle wings held on by elastic straps—but most of the Firebloods are the real deal. Rich Firebloods too, flaunting their wealth uninhibited as they shed their disguises for a few hours. Suits and dresses and shirts designed to accommodate their massive wings. I wonder if the human guests think they’re posers hired to heighten the ambiance. For all I know, they might be.

  One couple has a baby with them. She sits in a high chair, tiny wings protruding from the back of her lacy top. Her face is a mess of chocolate mousse. Every once in a while, an enamored person or two will stop and ask if they can take a picture, and the couple politely obliges. Seeing so many Firebloods in one place is overload on the human side of my brain, but to see such a tiny one is pretty incredible.

  “She’s adorable,” I whisper with a quick point of my finger.

  “Yeah.” Kane kisses the palm of my hand. “Maybe that’s what our future will look like.”

  “A Fireblood and a hybrid mix.” I verbally throw this image at him. “That could be a miracle or a mess.”

  “Our mess.” He hands me a look that says it wouldn’t matter to him.

  “You’re such a romantic.” I give his chest a small push.

  “One of us has to be.”

  Our waitress is a tall, slender Fireblood with raven feathers and violet eyes that sparkle with purplish flames. Intermittently, she allows her skin to illuminate just slightly—like glitter—and ease back to a creamy tone. I find myself staring without meaning to. Clearly, I’m overstimulated by the place, but it’s fascinating.

  She holds her wings just so too, not letting them touch the floor. Kane lets his drag like nobody’s business, but she pulls her shoulders back in a deliberate effort to keep them poised. Seems tiring if you ask me.

  When she reaches our table, she flashes a bright smile and pulls out an electric order pad, readying her stylus.

  “Hi, there. Welcome to Fire and Ash. I’m Rhea.”

  “Hi.” I grin. “Your wings are gorgeous.”

  “These old things?” She lowers the order pad and flutters them once, a little pride making her cheeks blossom red. “Thank you.”

  “I’m pretty jealous.” I pause, and then. “Do you mind if I touch them?”

  “Not at all,” she winks. “It’s par for the course when you work in a place like this.”

  She stretches one long wing over the table. I run my fingers through the layers. Kane watches, silent and totally in tune with my emotions. Wings. I appreciate each and every pair I meet.

  Rhea’s wings have the texture of soft, feather down, like she washes them with baby shampoo. I’m learning very quickly that the difference in color, texture, and shape is a distinguishing factor in every Fireblood. Every Fireblood but me. Even my brother has wings, as unusable as they are, and my heart drops a little deeper into my chest when I consider this. I pull my fingers away and run my hands up my arms, suddenly chilled.

/>   “I take it this is your first time here at the casino?” Rhea settles her wing back into place, her bright, round eyes blinking at us. Birdlike.

  “Yes.” I cast a glance at Kane before I whisper, “Neither one of us have seen so many Firebloods in one place completely decamouflaged.”

  “Oh.” Stunned, she blinks once more, then lowers her voice to match mine. “You—you know about us? That’s… not common knowledge. Unless you’re—”

  I blink, my face a blank slate, but my big mouth has said too much, and I have no idea how to back out of this one. But Kane does. He eases an arm around my shoulders, gratefully taking the weight off of them. I turn my head just in time to see those familiar golden flecks in a flash of fire. They quickly disappear back into emerald, and our waitress, with a discreet nod of her head, smiles.

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” She lifts the order pad, all business. As if we’ve been discussing menu items all along. “Would you like to hear our specials?”

  We order, and as soon as she leaves, I flash all my regret at Kane.

  “Sorry.”

  He just laughs and takes a casual sip of his water. No harm done. Relieved, I sink in the seat, twisting my ring once.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That I’m on a date with my girl, and we want to remain incognito.”

  He grins.

  “Clever.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Do you realize this is our first official dress-up-and-go-somewhere date?”

  He screws up his lips in thought. “I guess it is, huh?”

  Stretching his arms wide across the back of the booth, he slinks low enough to meet my gaze head to head.

  “What?” I reach for a breadstick and bite off the end.

  “You really do look beautiful,” Kane says. I crunch on my bread. A few crumbs spilling into my lap. “I didn’t forget to say it. I was just waiting for the right moment.”

  “Perfect timing,” I laugh, brush off my dress, and reach for the cloth napkin. I run my eyes over his frame. “And I didn’t forget either.”

  I ease closer, leaning my body into the few inches of space between us. When I smile, it’s “the smile.” I’m sure you know it. A girl reserves it for the one and only boy worthy of it. Kane won that honor from me a long time ago, and no one else will ever have the privilege of seeing it… unless they look at me while I’m looking at him.

  Kane knows the smile too. An admiration washes over his face before one dimple, and then the other joins his grin. He slides his arm around me, closing the gap.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

  “Yes, you do,” I answer, bumping his rib with my elbow. “You want to know why?”

  “Okay.” He takes a sip of water, smacks his lips, and looks straight at me. “Why?”

  “Because I need you.”

  He chuckles. “I deserve you because you need me? That’s new.”

  “Well, yeah. You’re kind of… my hero.”

  “I’ve been raised to hero status?” He whispers it into my hair. “Wow. What am I worried about then?”

  “Exactly.” I concentrate on the breath in his words. “I’ve only ever had one other hero. You’ve done a pretty good job of filling his shoes.”

  He pulls back, the start of a tear barely visible; he bats it away quickly, and reaches for my chin, pinching it softly. A classic Kane move.

  “I love you, Gallagher. More than I could ever say.”

  “I know. You proved it by coming here with me. And you proved it again by not leaving today.”

  He doesn’t answer, but I read his thoughts like an open book. I burrow into his side, sliding a shoulder up under his armpit, snug.

  “They’re fine,” I whisper into his neck, planting a kiss on his toasty skin. “They have to be.”

  “I hope so.” He offers me a half-hearted smile before kissing me. “I wish Rylin would get his ass back here.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  He lays his cheek against my head again, and I hold my breath for a few seconds. It’s in times like these—when he’s most vulnerable—that I feel closest to him. As close as if our mantras were tangled together in their beautiful duet. In these times, everything around us disappears. The world could come falling down on top of us, and we’d hardly notice.

  Because in these times, our roles are reversed.

  All he needs… is me.

  Ten

  After dinner, we slip out the back of the casino to a walkway lined with a marble balustrade that overlooks this end of the Strip. I lean out over it, dazzled by the glistening city lights that stretch against the horizon like a blanket of electric stars. The Stratosphere climbs into the night sky across the way, and below us, traffic is insane. Bumper to bumper, horns honking. I’ve lived in Nevada my entire life, but I’ve never been to Vegas. It’s a lot to take in, this city of sin, so it’s been called. From up here, we have a clear view of every cab rooftop with ads promoting girlie shows and prostitutes. Classy stuff, right there. And the more I stare out over this city, the more I believe it really never does sleep.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many lights,” I dangle my arms over the edge of the marble railing, pretending to pinch off the heads of the tiny people on the ground level walkways.

  “It’s something to see, that’s for sure.” Kane, arms folded in front of him on the ledge, watches with me. The breeze catches a wisp of his hair. It dances erratically out of control for a second and settles back into place. I peer at him, tracing his firm jawline up to his neck. He looks off in the other direction.

  “Can I ask you something?” I drop my cheek against my propped hand. He turns, the shadow of the building darkening one whole side of his face.

  “Sure.”

  I wait a second, gathering my thoughts. The baby Fireblood in the restaurant got to me, dredged up the memory of those dreams I’ve been having. Weird dreams.

  “How far back can you remember?”

  His confusion settles in. “Remember what?”

  “Anything.” I search his face where a thin layer of unshaven whiskers is beginning to show through along his jawline. “Like… before you were five. Can you remember things?”

  He studies me a long minute. “Yeah.”

  “So… what do you remember?”

  “Everything.”

  “Everything?” He must misunderstand what I’m asking. “Like… everything?”

  “Yeah.” He twists around, leaning enough to prop his elbows on the balustrade behind him.

  “Like what?”

  “Well…” He pauses, eying me. “How far back do you want me to go?”

  I stare at him, dumbfound, until he laughs.

  “I recognized my mom about thirty minutes after I was born. My dad probably five minutes after that. How about we start there?”

  I’m stumped. “Really?”

  “Yet another perk of the Fireblood race; we have vivid long-term memories.” He leans close, prodding me in a thick whisper. “I’m guessing you didn’t get that trait.”

  “I can barely remember anything before age four,” I answer. I turn my body to match his stance, our elbows bumping. “And those memories are sketchy at best.”

  “I guess we’ve never talked about this before.” He links his pinkie with mine. “And we’ve talked about a million things.”

  “Yeah.” I wait a beat, and then, “I’ve been having these dreams lately.”

  “Now that we have talked about,” Kane teases. “Old news.”

  “No. I mean specific dreams. Ever since I first decamouflaged.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.” He focuses on my words. “What kind of dreams?”

  “Weird ones. I’m a baby. I can’t even sit up yet, but I know everything that’s going on around me.”

  The breeze sweeps in, causing a shiver. Even worse, it blows the front of my dress up. I catch it before it has the chance to fly over my face.

  “Whoa!”

&
nbsp; Kane sputters a laugh. “Close one.”

  “Anyway…” I roll my eyes, and my hands remain firmly in place against my thighs. “My parents are there too. I think we’re in Costa Rica, but I’m not sure. I know they’re only dreams, but… they feel so real.”

  “They could be memories.”

  I look at him. “You think?”

  “Why not?” he shrugs.

  “Well, because I don’t remember being a baby.”

  I step away to lean over the balustrade again. A long, black limousine rolls by below us. Two blond females hang out of the sunroof waving wine glasses in the air and hollering at a group of guys on the sidewalk. They all raise their arms in response, hollering back.

  “Look, it’s not like I have room to argue where dreams are concerned,” Kane admits. “But I do remember it hurt like hell when I got my first tooth.”

  That had to have been somewhere between three and five months. It’s mind-boggling that anyone could remember that.

  “Do you remember your first diaper change too?” I tease.

  “Oh, yeah.” He sloughs off a fake shudder and winks. “It was horrid.”

  I laugh. He spins around to watch the traffic with me. Two buses and a firetruck whiz by before he says anything else.

  “You are a Fireblood, Jude,” he concludes. “Don’t rule out that you could be remembering.”

  “I guess. I just—I wish things were more black and white, you know?” I sigh. “But I’m a hybrid, so no one seems to know what to really think of me. And why would I be remembering things only now?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have seventeen years to sift through, and it’s been just a couple of weeks since you learned the truth.” He pauses. “You’ve been leaving your ring off for longer periods of time. That could contribute.”

  Well, that’s all true. But finding pieces to the puzzle of my life little by little is getting old. Plus, the edges are all wrong. A surprise at every turn.

  I’m beginning to hate surprises.

  “I guess we’d better get back before Petra realizes we’re out,” he says.

  He takes my hand and drags me away from the railing and the traffic and the blanket of lights. We stroll through the center of the casino hand in hand, the clinking and ringing noises of the slot machines filling our ears. The lobby is connected to a lounge, which catches my attention. I pull Kane to a halt.