Singe

by Casey Hays

  “He’s a little excited.” My weak attempt to explain it away. Honestly, I’m surprised. He was so not into this when we first got here.

  “It’s the aerodynamics booster,” Adam says. “The air is lighter. It gives their wings more speed and agility.” He pops his chin up toward the little girl as she makes a rapid curve around the wall of the dome behind us. “That’s my sister, Anika. She’s pretty much mastered this place.”

  “I see that. So she was born here too?”

  “Yep.”

  Anika comes around the curve in perfect formation, rolls to the side, expertly missing Kane by a sweet inch. He puts on the brakes, hanging suspended as he tries to figure out what the heck just grazed past him like a speeding firefly. She’s that fast. She giggles, swooping around to make her introductions to him. A little blonde girl with taupe colored feathers all ablaze in a hazy light. He grins, and together, they take off toward the opposite side.

  “And the lessons begin.” Adam sounds a little sad.

  “She’s not a hybrid, is she?”

  “Oh, she is,” he counters. “She just got to swim in the better end of the gene pool.”

  “Really? I would have never guessed she was a hybrid.”

  I search the aviary until I spot her. A tiny flicker of fire in the distance. She whips out of sight. Kane races after her in a flash of bigger light.

  “Common mistake.” Adam watches his sister a moment. “She can’t flare, and she can’t camouflage herself, but in every other way, she’s a Fireblood.”

  “My brother has trouble not flaring.” I glance at him, not sure why I’m divulging this. I guess… besides Jarron, I’ve never met anyone like me before.

  “Yeah, my sister is stuck somewhere in between on that note.”

  I survey him again. “So do you have a couple of parents here? Or were you harvested in one of those giant test tubes I saw when we first got here?”

  He chuckles. “I guess Mom didn’t tell you then.”

  Mom? Oh…

  “Petra is your mother.” My statement is definite. That’s how sure I am of it.

  “Yep.”

  Which means…

  I pause, deciding not to coax him about his father, but I have a pretty good idea I know who it is.

  “What about you? Can you flare?”

  “Like I said, I’m all boy. No flaring, no camouflaging, no compelling.” He indicates my arm. “My skin doesn’t even ignite.”

  “So if it weren’t for your wings…” My voice trails off.

  “Right. My parents waited too long and lost the window of opportunity.”

  “What’s the window of opportunity?” My curiosity stings me.

  “Anytime between birth and three months. Before the wings start to solidify into bone, you know? They can be extracted without much physical or emotional damage. And since hybrids don’t have a Fireblood’s capacity to remember everything, it’s a simple procedure that causes no trauma, mental or otherwise.” He glances at me. “My parents were apparently holding onto some fatal hope that I would be a miracle. I’m guessing yours didn’t feel the same way.”

  “Not exactly.” I keep my voice even. “I was born without wings.”

  He huffs. “Doubtful.”

  I blink. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because that’s the one thing that is not possible. Every Fireblood is born with wings, hybrid or not. It’s in the standard DNA that specifically makes us Firebloods. They may be underdeveloped or crippled, or they may function perfectly. But we all have them.”

  He shakes his own out again before settling them in close to his back. I stare at him, all my words stuck in the back of my throat. Finally, he looks at my stunned face and crinkles his brows.

  “I see Mom didn’t tell you this either.” His expression hardens a little. “Typical.”

  “So… you and she aren’t… close, I take it.” Saying this is an easier exercise than trying to digest what he just revealed.

  “Nope.” He lets the P pop off the end of his word. “Don’t get me wrong, she acts as Mom, when she doesn’t have a pet project…”

  His voice tapers off. Oh, right. I am that pet project at the moment. He gives me a sideways apologetic glance and hops to his feet, curving his hands around his mouth.

  “Anika! Let’s go!”

  “O-kay! Just one more round…”

  She whizzes past, her words sailing off behind her. Kane swooshes onto the scene all grins. He hovers in the air just above the cavern, then moves in and sets his feet on the ground.

  “Woo!” He plops down next to me and drapes his arm around my shoulders. “You have got to come flying with me.”

  His eyes shift, orange, then red, and he pins them on the strange Fireblood standing next to us. I take a breath. He senses my emotions, but before he can say anything, Adam extends his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Adam Kennedy.”

  “Kennedy?” Kane clasps his hand, looks at me, back at Adam. “As in Dr. Kennedy?”

  Yep. That’s what I thought. Adam’s lip turns up in the corner and morphs into a full smile just as Anika lights on the edge of the cavern with a graceful flutter and walks toward him.

  “Word of advice,” Adam answers. “Ask our parents questions every once in a while.” He takes his sister’s hand. “They don’t offer information voluntarily. It’s how they roll.”

  He turns away. Anika waves with a flutter of her smoky wings as she’s tugged off behind him.

  “Bye, Kane. Better luck next time.”

  “I’m coming for you, Ani,” Kane laughs. “Get ready.”

  They disappear down the path toward the exit.

  “Those are Joshua’s kids?” Kane rolls back on his heels.

  “And Petra’s.”

  That brings our conversation to an abrupt halt, and he lets off a low whistle through his teeth.

  “Well, that’s news.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t even try to hide the sigh that explodes from my chest. Kane shoulders me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I hold still a second longer, and without any kind of explanation, I pull my tee shirt over my head.

  “Uh… Jude?” Kane checks our surroundings, but we’re all alone.

  “Do me a favor?” I turn away from him, shifting my bra straps off the sides of my shoulders.

  “Seriously, what are we doing here?”

  I ignore him.

  “Do you see anything on my back?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Marks? Scars, maybe? Inside my shoulder blades.”

  “Did that Kennedy kid do something to you?” His voice furrows with the question.

  “No. Just… will you look?”

  His warm thumb slides over my skin until I shiver at the sensation. Hot vanilla-scented breaths raise the hairs on my back when he leans in close.

  “Wait a minute.” He eases my shoulders back until my spine straightens. “What the hell?”

  With a sigh, I tug my bra straps back into place, and twist round to face him, legs criss-crossed between us.

  “Adam just told me all Firebloods are born with wings. All Firebloods, Kane.”

  I wait for his reaction, and it comes with a crinkle of his brow in complete confusion. He’s so transparent that I don’t even have to ask him if he knew this. He clearly didn’t.

  “Is he sure?”

  “I’m gonna say yes. He said extraction has to be done before three months, before the wings turn to bone or something like that. He sounded pretty educated on the process.”

  “So—” A sudden shock pummels the muscles in his face until they slacken. “You realize what this means, right?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Your parents cut your wings off.” He says it like it needs to be said aloud to make it true. And then, he slumps, his hands falling between his knees limply. “I can’t believe they would do that to you.”

  It doesn’t really hit me until his lip trembles
, and the tears move in. Tears for me. Tears for something else that I lost so I could remain hidden behind the curtain of normalcy. A normal life. Yeah… that’s really working out for me, isn’t it?

  “Stop it.” Fighting my own tears, I cup his face in my hands. “You said wings don’t make up who you are. You told me that.”

  “I know, I know. They don’t.” He pulls me in closer, his big hand spread across my back, right where my wings used to be, as if he’s trying to hide the evidence so it will hurt less. “It’s just…” He fights a sob, his embrace tightening. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed those scars.” Baffled, he just stares at me a second. “You had wings, Jude. That changes things a little, don’t you think? I mean, here we are, hiding like wusses so that the Contingent doesn’t mutilate me, and it already happened to you.”

  That visual firmly implants itself in my brain. And later, when I’ve had time to digest it, maybe I’ll cry or scream. Or break something. I’m mad more than anything, but it’s kind of hard to know how I really feel over something I never knew I had.

  “Listen to me.” I focus on his face, run the backs of my fingers over his tear-stained cheeks. “Jarron’s wings are deformed. Adam’s too. Maybe that’s why my parents did it. They had to have learned a thing or two by their second hybrid child, right?”

  He knocks his forehead into mine, gently, but stout enough for the motion to thump in sync with my heartbeat. “It’s still not right.”

  “I know. But it’s not like we can do anything about it.” I sink my cheek into his bare chest. “And maybe Adam is wrong?” I say it like a question. Because even as I say it, I know he’s not. I know it in my heart of hearts he’s not.

  “If Adam knows this,” Kane says, anger rising in his voice. “Then Petra and Joshua know too. And they didn’t say a word.” He pauses, a thought hitting him. “What about my parents. Have they always known you had wings once?”

  The betrayal is thick because we both have to say yes. This information was kept from both of us. Not all hybrids have wings; it’s what he’d always assumed.

  I pull away from him, letting it sink in a little deeper. I had wings. I had wings!

  It isn’t Petra I resent. Even if she knew, it wasn’t her place to tell me. It’s Mom. The woman who made a lie out of my entire life.

  For my protection. This is what she said.

  I remind myself of this.

  It doesn’t feel any less painful.

  Lyric 5

  The pain is excruciating. So painful that I can’t cry. I whimper; I moan. But cry? It’s impossible.

  Mom sweeps her cool hand over the top of my head.

  “There, there, Jude. You’re okay, baby. It’s going to be okay now.”

  I want to believe her. The pain won’t let me. It digs in too deep, burning down my spine and expanding outward to encompass my shoulders, my ribs, my arms. A lone tear slides over my cheek and puddles on the crib mat.

  I lie on my stomach, my tiny, chubby legs curled in under me. This position, it gives me some relief. Shallow breaths puff out of my lungs. My mother holds back a sob as long as she can, but it eventually explodes in one long wail. She falls to her knees beside the crib, her fingers curled around two rails, her face pressed between them. Her eyes, always brown before, seem black. Black with the sin staining her heart.

  “Ell,” my father whispers. I pry open an eye. His big hands appear on the other side of the rails, gripping Mom’s shaking shoulders. “You need to sleep.”

  “No!” Her voice is steely. Aching with regret. “What have we done? What have we…”

  The words trail into weeping. My dad scoops her into his big, strong arms and walks away.

  A bag hangs over my head, and Dad returns and presses a button on the end of a tube. Instantly, a flood of warmth overtakes me, head to toe. I sink into it. The pain subsides enough for me to drift. But on the edge of sleep, I hear my parents’ conversation.

  “It’s done, Ellen. She won’t remember, and we can go back to the States, be close to Jarron. I will be able to keep her safe.”

  “How?” Mom’s voice strains. “How, Rafe? One day, her skin will change. She will hear her mantra… if she hasn’t already. Even without the wings, she will wonder about herself. You know this. She will grow stronger and harder to hide.”

  “I have a plan,” he whispers.

  “What plan?”

  “I’ve been toying with some options, working it out. Trust me.”

  I can stay awake no longer. My mind drifts into oblivion.

  Nineteen

  “I met your kids today.”

  I sit on the edge of the examination table, the front of my hospital gown twisted in my fist. A lot has changed in my dreaming activity since my exam on Monday, so Petra insisted on a routine check-up for comparison purposes. She checks the dilation of my pupils with a small light, but at my words, she drops her hand. The rounded beam of light spreads across my lap.

  “Did you?” She turns, flipping off the light and rearranging a set of tools on the rolling tray that she’s never used on me. “I’m assuming Kane took advantage of the aviary.”

  “He loved it.”

  “I thought he might.” I see a half-smile in her profile. “We can hardly keep Anika away from the place.”

  I hold my tongue a minute, organizing my mind in the best way to broach the topic that plagues me. My wings. Petra keeps her back to me, pretending to study a chart, but I can tell from the stiffness of her stance that it’s a ruse.

  “You never mentioned you and Joshua were a thing.”

  “We keep our personal and professional lives separate.” She had that answer ready on cue. She faces me, readying one of those flat wooden popsicle sticks for entry into my mouth.

  “Every Fireblood is born with wings, huh?”

  The popsicle stick bumps into my lip, and Petra winces. Just a tiny movement that makes the very slight wrinkles in her forehead twitch. I might have missed this if it wasn’t accompanied by the heaviest sigh I’ve heard in a while. Slowly, she tugs the rolling stool between her legs and sits.

  “I’m not inclined to reveal things your parents never told you,” she says, rubbing at her temples.

  “Ok.” A flash of memory lights up my mind. A baby dream. Only it’s not a dream. I’m remembering. “So those dreams I’ve been having as a baby? They are memories, aren’t they?”

  Petra rolls her stool backwards another inch and folds her arms over her lab coat. She doesn’t have to answer the question; I already know.

  “My parents are tortured over their decision to take my wings.” My voice sounds so tiny. So fragile. And my parents’ agony—and mine—it’s vivid inside my head.

  “They did it for you.” On impulse, Petra reaches for my hands. “To give you a chance to be just… human. That was a very special gift.”

  Regret dirties up the statement. Regret at what she and Joshua didn’t do for their own children. But I think of Anika—of how beautiful and free she was in the aviary today—and I understand why they didn’t. How could they?

  “My identity as a Fireblood is just as special,” I counter.

  “You’re right,” she whispers. “And as parents, we have to do what we think is best. Sometimes at great detriment. Because we love you.”

  Yeah. Logically, I get it. But my heart is too cloudy with hurt and anger to accept that. The knowledge is way too fresh. So fresh that I want to scream until all my feelings vanish into the noise.

  “It’s done, I guess.” I pull my hands free of Petra’s grip and tuck them beneath my thighs. “I can’t get them back.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it.

  “So… nobody knows about Adam and Anika?”

  “No.” She stands, arms crossed, and paces the small space between my dangling feet and the small cupboard on the adjacent wall. “Firebloods can camouflage their young, but as you know, hybrids cannot be camouflaged. This is why we were so fascinated when Rylin tol
d us about you.” She faces me. “Joshua has never been able to master compelling an object, so our children have had to remain hidden. Unregistered. To the Contingents, they are as nonexistent as the lab itself.”

  “Kane told me Joshua questioned him about how he compels my ring.”

  “He did.” She leans against the cupboard, crossing her ankles to match her arms. “Still no luck. He just can’t do it.”

  My mind shifts to those baby dreams I’ve been having. I remember something my dad said. That he’d done some “homework.” He told my mom he could keep me hidden, but it would take something drastic to do it.

  Something drastic.

  “It’s the wings.”

  Petra stills. “The wings?”

  “I dreamt about it. Dad took my wings so he could compel something to hide me.”

  I’m so sure of this that you’d think my dad had given me a play by play explanation. Petra absorbs the information, saying nothing at first. Finally, she pulls up and crosses the room to her computer.

  “Every pair of wings stores a shield.” She pulls up an image of a pair of Fireblood wings, spread wide across the screen, each segmented joint labeled. “For Firebloods, the shield protects them when they flare. With effort, the shield can allow them to become completely invisible to the human eye. But it is flexible, allowing movement in and out from under its protection. It’s the reason parents can camouflage their young. It’s how a Fireblood can spread the protection of the shield to cover another person.”

  Yes. Kane did this once when we were younger. The park ranger didn’t see us at all. And Rylin? He used his shield in Portland to pull me through a glass window.

  “For hybrids, the shield is impenetrable,” Petra continues, using her mouse to flip to a different screen. “It seems to overprotect the natural form while stifling many Fireblood abilities. No inner-compelling, so no camouflaging. But I’d never connected the removal of wings to your father’s technique. In fact, until you came here, and I examined you myself, I thought perhaps you had been born without them just as you’ve always believed.” She poises a smile at me. “That would have been unprecedented.”