by Alex Hayes
She looks pained. “He tried. There was another carer who died. Mr. Scrim was on his own. He had us spread all over. Most of us with abilities we hardly knew how to control.” A smile brushes her lips. “He must’ve found you one of the least worrisome. While I—”
“What abilities?” I lean into the table, bringing my face closer to hers.
Her smile slips away as she pulls back. Lips part, then purse together. “Yours to fix things. Mine to transfer heat.”
The burn prints on my front door. The searing doorknob.
“There are other kids with other abilities,” she continues in a rush. “I don’t know much about them, other than the couple I’ve met so far.”
Okay, enough of this. Time to get some real answers. “Who are they? Who are we?”
She bites her lower lip. “Refugees from a war. Orphans from…” She glances around at the nearby tables, like she cares about who might be listening, but the white noise of the café is loud enough to cover her words. “Did you ever wonder where you came from? I mean…given your abilities?”
“I assume my parents were Korean immigrants.” But now I’m not so sure. “Possibly asylum seekers. I was told they were dead.”
“By Mr. Scrim?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t think he ever mentioned them. Some foster parent or other, probably while telling me I was a worthless gook.”
Rowan’s mouth opens. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug, this time coldly, while remembering the jerk of a foster dad who said that, the guy was a racist asshole. “What do you know about them?”
“Only that they’re dead, like mine. I don’t know any details. Not about how or anything.” She swallows back the sorrow I sense brewing in her and her eyes gloss over.
Refugees from a war, she said. Orphans.
“So which war? Where’d we come from? You don’t look the least bit Korean, if you don’t mind me saying, so I assume we’re not from the same place.”
Her head bobs up and down. “Oh, we most definitely are from the same place. The same…” she looks around again, then leans closer, “world.”
I stare at her. And then I laugh.
When I finally recover, I notice she isn’t laughing with me. She looks serious. More than serious. She looks hurt, and that whatever it is I’m picking up from her echoes the same emotion.
The girl’s got to be delusional.
Rowan must sense my doubt. “How else do you think you can fix things, Con? How else do you think you can change shape?”
I bolt to my feet, chair scraping the tiled floor.
What she’s suggesting… That’s the most ridiculous… She’s got to be…
So why am I angry? Why do I feel threatened?
Think, Connell. Because you’re afraid what she’s saying is true.
“I need some air.” I stride toward the entrance, throw open the door and run down the steps, attracting more than a few curious glances as I go.
Retreating around the corner of the building, I sink against the cement wall.
The sun is already below the horizon. It’s getting darker and colder. Or is that the chill in my heart? I pull my lined jacket closer, press my hands deep into my pockets and try to deny every word that girl, Rowan, said to me.
But I can’t. Because what she said makes too much sense.
How else would I be able to fix things, fix people? How else would I be able to turn into an invisible bird creature? How else would I be able to feel what’s going on inside her and know she’s about to walk around the corner of this building?
I glare at her. “How did you know I was here?”
“Through the symbiotic crystal in my chest that senses yours.”
Shit. She has a crystal too.
She looks embarrassed, like she realizes she’s invading my privacy. “Can’t you sense mine?”
Yeah, I can. That and more. Does she realize I can pick up her emotions?
Wait. If I can pick up on her feelings, does that mean she can pick up on mine?
She reaches out as if to touch my arm, then hesitates and withdraws. “I was shocked, too. Horrified. I don’t know why Mr. Scrim had to keep the truth from us. I wish I’d known who I was from the start.”
Her sadness rolls through me along with a sense of isolation. The same isolation I’m feeling right now, and for the same reason. But isolation’s better than facing a complicated truth I’m not sure I can handle.
“Don’t try to take it in all at once, Con.” Her voice is like treacle, sweet with understanding, and yet, stickily irritating too.
“This is bullshit.” Not what she just told me, but judging by her reaction, that’s what she thinks I mean. “Keeping the truth from us was stupid.”
“And keeping us from each other.” Her voice sounds tired.
Hot coals of pain spark between us.
I wish I understood this annoying connection we share, one that feels more like an invasion than a comfort. Am I going to have to live with this whenever one of these fellow orphans comes anywhere near me? Maybe we’re better off separated.
Closing my eyes, I try to blot out the humming sensation in my chest. The longer this girl hangs around me, the stronger the vibration seems to get.
Anger bubbles up. Frustration.
“I’ll go back inside. Give you some space.” Maybe she’s frustrated too. No, more frightened.
Damn it. I’m scaring her.
I open my eyes just in time to see her dark curls sweep around the corner of the building.
Long minutes pass. My blood cools. I shiver and walk back inside.
Rowan sits at a table tucked in a corner. I’d have missed her, if I couldn’t feel the tug of her presence. Two paper cups with plastic covers sit on the table in front of her.
“Seemed kind of late for coffee, so I got you some green tea.”
“Thanks.” I sit across from her and peel off the lid. The tea has cooled to the perfect temperature. I swallow half the contents, staving off the hungry bear crouched in my belly, and realize she’s studying me. “What?”
“You look older than I expected.” There’s no criticism in her words, merely observation.
“How old were you expecting?”
She shrugs. “Almost eighteen, the same age as me.”
Four years is a big difference at our age. Even more so at twelve. A low moment in my life. Possibly my lowest. A runaway with nowhere to go.
Between us, I sense this connection, a sense of camaraderie, of understanding, and…of sympathy.
I shift my gaze to a speck on the café’s painted brick wall as the past trickles through my mind.
How Hyun gave me a job when I appeared on his doorstep, looking sixteen. Four years older than I’d been the day before.
My gaze shifts back to Rowan. “Necessity changes a person. In my case, literally.”
Her eyes scan my features, frame and posture.
I straighten. Pull back my shoulders. Lift my chin.
“It’s more than looking older,” she says. “You act older too.”
“Most of the time I feel older.” Except when I don’t. Except when I feel like an awkward kid looking into the eyes of a beautiful girl. “Has its advantages, I guess.”
Except when it doesn’t.
Looking older didn’t help me around Azera’s father. It made him expect me to work three times harder. I’d have left after a week spent in his house if it hadn’t been for her. She needed help and I couldn’t turn away.
The demanding knot in my stomach tightens. I clench my fingers, trying to will it away, but it’s no use. “Are you hungry? I know a good Asian place.”
I expect her to refuse, but she nods. Her agreement—to trust me—shouldn’t feel like a triumph, but it does.
“Uh, we’ll have to drive. Are you okay with that?” I hope she doesn’t think I’d try to kidnap her.
“Yes,” she answers. No hesitation.
I chug the rest of my tea and lift t
he cup. “Thanks, again.”
Rowan smiles, a real smile, and follows me out to the Taurus. I try to imagine looking at my bucket of bolts through her eyes and squirm.
Well, if my car is good enough for Azera, it’s gonna have to be good enough for Rowan.
I grab the door for her, checking the passenger seat and floor. Both are clean. Enough already. It takes all my restraint not to apologize for the lived-in look. I roll my eyes at myself as I step around the vehicle and hop in.
18
Rowan
Con’s phone buzzes before he can turn out of the parking space. He scans the screen, types something and tucks the device into the breast pocket of his worn bomber jacket.
I can’t get over how mature he is, or how childish I feel by comparison. It’s not just the way he looks. He holds himself with authority and responsibility, and the emotions pulsing off him seem more grown up too.
His feelings are tight, controlled. Irritation constrained. Curiosity sobered. Anger seems to be his weak point. Does that go with being an adult? Or being a guy? The fight or flight—mostly fight—response.
He pulls out and heads down San Pedro. “From another world, you said.” His glance penetrates.
I sink deeper into my coat. “Daïzani.” I’m not sure what else to say. I have almost no recollection of our home world.
“And how’d we get here? By spaceship? Must have been a long journey. Did they put us into stasis or something? How come I can’t remember any of that?” He slows at a red light.
“Through a wormhole. Like stepping through a doorway, I guess.” I’ve no recollection of that either.
Con goes silent for a long time.
I pick up on the hodgepodge of emotions churning inside him—confusion, unease, denial, anger—and keep quiet.
“So,” he starts up again, “you’re saying there’s a passage, a doorway between Earth and the place we came from?” He pulls up to another traffic light and looks at me sidelong. “So we could go back there, right? See this place for real.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “When it’s safe, I mean. Assuming we wanted to go.”
“Our world is lost to us. Our people are dead.” I stare at the moving stream of headlights from the oncoming cars. “And the passageway was closed to keep the race that invaded our home from following us here.”
“Okay,” he mutters. “So why does Scrim want us back together? We’re scattered all over the country, you said. I mean, we’ve got lives going on. What does he expect us to do? Up and leave our homes, our families? And for what?”
A chill prickles my arms. “Some of the invaders made it to Earth before the wormhole was closed.” I meet his questioning gaze. “And they’re looking for us.” I’ve so much to tell him, but I don’t dare throw too much his way. The information Mr. Scrim shared with me took days to digest.
His feelings tell me he’s wrestling enough and not to push him further.
“What about the crystals?” Another glance in my direction. “What are they for? Other than sensing each other, I guess.”
“Livran are—”
“Who?”
I take a deep breath. “Livran. That’s the name of our race. We are given a symbiont crystal shortly after birth. We carry it with us on an irremovable chain.”
“Yeah, I tried to take mine off.” His lips press together, mouth lifting on one side into a half smirk.
“I’m sure most of us tried at one time or another.” I certainly did. Multiple times. “Once we reach maturity, our crystals embed themselves, sinking beneath our flesh. The stones act as focal points, strengthening our abilities, and as links, connecting us to each other.”
He swings his head in my direction as he brakes behind slow traffic. “Which is why I feel a tug toward you and sense your feelings? We’re all connected this way?”
I nod, choosing not to tell him the connection between him and me is stronger than our links to any others.
When Mr. Scrim first mentioned our reunion, my thoughts had flown back to the cloudy memories I had of Con. Playing as small children. Watching him fix things. Loving him like family because he was already a part of mine.
We were destined to be together, always.
Why Mr. Scrim separated us, I cannot fathom. By doing so, he broke the familial connection between us, and the natural progression of our union was interrupted.
What if that link is irreparable? Con mentioned home, family. What if he doesn’t want to reestablish our ties?
What if he doesn’t want to be bonded to me at all?
Idris and Cadi seem happy together, even after their long separation. I guess I’d hoped—expected—the same would be true for Con and me. But now I’m not so sure.
He’s different. Changed. In many ways older and more worldly than me. Maybe he has a great life already and doesn’t want to change that.
My throat tightens at the thought.
“Are you okay?” His question startles me.
“Um, yeah, fine. Just…thinking about the past.”
“Sensing your feelings is weird.” He hunches his shoulders. “I’m trying to imagine how it’ll feel being surrounded by people I can read. All at once.”
That won’t happen. Shared feelings come through the association of our twin crystals. But admitting that would mean explaining we’re bond mates, and I don't want to scare him. I need to fully understand his life situation first.
Why didn’t Mr. Scrim consider this possibility? How many of us are content with our lives exactly as they are? How many won’t want to leave their human families and rejoin their people?
What if Con is one of them?
19
Connell
A heaviness settles over Rowan.
Yeah, there are definite advantages—and disadvantages—to being able to read another person’s feelings. But what good is this ability when I’ve no clue how to interpret what they mean?
Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to analyze her. Maybe I should distract her, instead.
“So what are we?” Clearly not human, given our abilities. Mine to heal, hers to burn things, I guess, and who knows what the others can do.
“Shape-shifters.”
Well, yeah. Given that I can turn into an invisible bird man. “What do you change into?”
“I’ve only shifted between human and our native form.”
Maybe that’s how she spotted me at the theater. She can turn into an invisible bird creature too. Figures we’d be able to detect each other.
I remember others—our people, I guess—though the images are so disjointed I’m not sure what to make of them. A big cave, high on a mountainside, where we must’ve lived. A place only accessible by flight. There was a woven blanket over an invisible form, which made it discernible. And yellow blood leaking from nowhere. I fixed the invisible wound, like I fix everything.
I shake off the memory and start looking for street parking, now we’re within a few blocks of Hyun’s. An option materializes on the other side of the road. Under a streetlight no less. I make a U-turn at the next intersection and slide up to the spot. Tight, but not impossible. I reverse in and pull forward. Probably one of my better parking jobs.
“Impressive.” Rowan smiles. The biggest smile I’ve seen yet. “I suck at parallel parking.”
“Practice. Around here, if you wanna park, you’ve got to squeeze into whatever’s available.” I grab my bag from the backseat and meet her at the curb. “Hyun’s is another block up the street.” I throw her a sideways glance as we walk. “I hope you like Asian food.”
“Love it. Sushi, noodle dishes…”
“Spicy?” A test question. I wait for her answer with bated breath.
“Hot and sweet.” She glances my way, and I catch the sparkle in her eyes. She’s teasing.
Wow. I’m definitely making headway.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer dryly. “You like Thai then?”
She nods. �
��And pickled ginger.”
“I think I know just the dish for you.”
The restaurant is busy, but the place isn’t packed. I open the door and follow Rowan to the host stand.
Kai greets her. He’s the guy who introduced me to Hyun that night I was hungry and desperate for a job. His story isn’t much different from mine, a busted up family and time on the street. We became good friends.
He spots me as I step up behind Rowan. His eyes slide from her to me and back again, widening into dish plates.
I purse my lips, biting back a laugh.
The only girl I’ve ever brought here before is Azera, and I can imagine the gossip about to be bandied among the staff.
Usually, I’d care. Wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea. But there’s something about Rowan that draws me like nails to a magnet. Aside from the fact she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
And after my conversation with Hyun, I owed it to him to bring her here. Even if only to prove I had the balls to go after her.
Whether anything will come of it is anyone’s guess, but we’re similar by our differences. As in, we come from another planet.
Maybe that’s what has held me back from chasing after girls. Human ones, at least. Jeez, what does that mean? That I couldn’t have kids? Not with an Earth girl, anyway.
My eyes drift to the back of Rowan’s head and her amazing hair. Those silken curls beg to be touched. My body heats.
Her shoulders stiffen, and I envision her questioning look. She’s got to be picking up on my desire. Christ, and now my embarrassment.
Kai does me a favor by pretending he doesn’t know me. “I have a, um…quiet table in back.” Meaning, a booth tucked behind one of Hyun’s blue-lit fish tanks. Intimate. Romantic.
“That’ll be great.” I motion Rowan ahead as Kai leads the way, menus in hand.
He raises his eyebrows at me as Rowan sits. “Anything to drink?”
I slide onto the bench across from her, catching her eye. “A pot of green tea?”
She smiles and nods.
“For two,” I say to Kai.
His eyes brighten, and he grins. Wide. “Coming right up.”