by Jus Accardo
“How was I supposed to know he was lying?” Alex grumbled, following me down the sidewalk.
Could anyone really be that dense? Alex knew about my dad even before I did. He’d lied to me for years. Hell, he’d done better than lie. He’d started dating me to keep tabs on Dad. Even if he hadn’t tried to slice open my boyfriend, that right there would be enough of a reason to use caution approaching me. Cheating was something I might have been able to get past—someday—but using me? Not a chance.
Alex, never one to let things go, stopped short and grabbed my arm, hauling me back. “I know you care about the freak, and I’m sorry I stuck him—but you have to understand why I did it.”
I yanked my arm back and shoved him away as a particularly loud crack of thunder sounded above our heads. A second later, the sky opened up. “I know exactly why you did it,” I yelled over the sound of the rain. “’Cause you’re a selfish bastard who can’t stand the thought of not getting his way.”
Proving just how immature he was, Alex stomped his foot, sending water from a rapidly gathering puddle shooting out in every direction. “I—you—impossible!”
He gave up and lunged, arms locking around my waist and dragging me close. As the storm raged around us, he smashed his lips against mine before I could even think about what he was doing, much less try to stop him. Fred’s cool metal surface pressed into my chin as the rain poured down my face and Alex’s lips moved over mine. Warmth and a familiar, slightly spicy taste locked my limbs in place.
For a half second.
I curled my fingers—I’d actually had the opportunity to grow my nails a little over the summer—and dug them into his forearms while bringing my knee up as hard as I could. He doubled over and stumbled away, gasping as someone behind us made a very angry sound.
I spun to see Kale surge toward us, soaked and furious. Impossibly fast, he covered the short distance in the blink of an eye.
“Stop!” I screamed, spreading my arms wide in front of Alex. Not for his sake, but for Kale’s. No matter how mad he was, he’d still feel guilty if he killed someone.
Maybe…
His reflexes were sharp. Kale stopped with about two inches to spare, droplets of water flying every which way. “What is he doing here?” The venom in his voice matched the angry twist of his lips and barely contained rage in his eyes. Instead of flicking his fingers—the Kale equivalent of a nervous twitch—his fists were balled and ready to go.
Maybe he wouldn’t feel guilty.
Carefully, I placed the palm of my hand against the material of his sopping T-shirt and pushed back. He resisted at first, cool blue eyes filled with hate and affixed to Alex. But after a few moments, the pressure on my hand lessened, and he stepped back. “Explain before I touch him.”
So much for getting somewhere warm and dry. Kale wasn’t budging from that sidewalk until he knew what was going on. Thankfully, the downpour was starting to ebb. “He followed me when I left the construction site.”
Kale’s expression faltered. “He was the one who caught you.”
He’d been so wrapped up in what’d happened on the crane, it hadn’t hit him at the time that Alex was even there. Which was probably a good thing. Alex might not have made it off that construction site.
As it was, he might not make it off the sidewalk. I just didn’t know who would be the one to kill him.
Kale—or me.
“Good thing I was there, Reaper. Someone had to keep her from falling. You obviously couldn’t.”
Something exploded behind Kale’s eyes. Rage, yes, but it was more than that. Guilt. He flinched like Alex had landed the mother of all blows. It only lasted a few seconds, though. After that, a twisted smile spread across his lips. The stiff set of his shoulders relaxed a little and he folded his arms. “She needs nothing from you.”
Alex met his smile with an even darker one. “Seemed like she needed something from me tonight. I wonder what else she needs? Maybe something you’re not giving her?”
Pressure against my hand. Kale pushed forward, fingers curling tight again. If anyone was likely to test his limits, it was Alex.
“He’s not worth it,” I said, standing my ground. I was determined to keep them apart. The last thing I needed right now was to get stuck in the middle of two raging, testosterone-drunk guys. “Not even close.”
Kale didn’t look entirely convinced. “I saw him kiss you.”
Reaching out, I grabbed his hand. Contact. Connection. It was one of the few things that soothed him—and me. It was second nature. I never even thought about it.
My fingers brushed the top of his knuckles, but the comforting, familiar warmth I’d come to associate as home, as safe, was gone. In its place was something painful and constricting. A growing pressure, accompanied by a slowly increasing warmth in my stomach and a head full of fuzz. I tried but couldn’t bite down in time. A small gasp escaped my lips as my shoulders and arms went rigid.
Horrified, Kale pulled his hand away and knocked me back—right into Alex.
“What the—” Alex caught me before I toppled to the ground. Shocked, he helped me right myself as I gasped for air. The pressure eased, and the humming in my ears melted into Kale’s agonized apologies.
“Dez, I’m sorry!” The pain in his voice made the corners of my eyes sting. He was sorry? He hadn’t done anything. I was the idiot who’d tried to touch him. Tried to touch my own boyfriend.
“You made her fall…” Realization rang in Alex’s tone. He stepped around me until he and Kale were nose to nose.
Even though I knew it was the remnants of the storm, I could almost imagine the lightning overhead as sparks rising from the shoulders of each boy. Clashing Titans ready to fight to the death.
“You can’t touch her anymore, can you?”
I coughed, still trying to fill my lungs with air. Gripping Alex’s sleeve, I pulled as hard as my fingers would allow, but it was a feeble attempt. I barely jostled him. “Alex, knock it off.”
“You almost got her killed,” he continued, ignoring me. His voice held a slight hint of horror, but more than that, there was amusement. Satisfaction. He didn’t care that I’d almost died. All he cared about was pointing out that it’d been Kale’s fault. So typical!
Kale was silent, but I could see it in his eyes. He was counting. One by one each finger flicked in and out. We’d practiced it over the summer. Any time he felt the urge to punish someone, he’d count to ten. Most times he’d calmed down by eight. In this case, he might need to count to twenty. Maybe fifty.
One hundred might not be too much of a stretch.
Usually it was little things that set him off. Well, little to everyone else. Big to him. He still didn’t understand the need for things like white lies and secrets. Kale saw the world in black and white—there was no room for gray. But this was different. Personal. A new emotion for him.
When Kale finally spoke again, his voice sounded calm, but I knew better. If anything, it was laced with more hate than before.
“You’re correct. I can’t touch her for the time being—but neither can you.”
Alex’s lip twitched. He folded his arms and puffed out his chest, standing a little straighter. I knew that stance. A challenge. “Wanna bet?”
“I do,” Kale responded coolly. “Because if you try to do it again, I’ll touch you. Then the only thing you’ll be touching is the wind as you’re scattered across this world.”
Alex didn’t reply. He did, however, have the intelligence to back away a few steps.
I wrapped my arms around myself and tried not to shiver. This had been a perfect ending to the worst day in history. The only thing that could make it worse was an alien invasion sent to gather probe victims. “Get out of here, Alex.”
“Are you sure? I could—”
Kale growled.
“Go!”
He gave me a quick nod and started backing down the sidewalk as one final, roaring crack of thunder split the air. With a wink, he sa
id, “I’ll see ya soon, Dez.”
5
There was a spring out of place. It protruded through the couch cushion, jabbing me in the back of the thigh. Kale sat on the small love seat across the room. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since Mom brought us into the common room.
“You know you’re not supposed to leave the hotel after dark,” she said. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table between us, she kept looking from him to me. She played with a pen left over from the dental convention that met here last week. Flicking the point. In and out. In and out. It reminded me of Mercy, the stuffy Denazen interviewer that tricked me into thinking she was on our side.
I responded with a wordless shrug and glanced toward the ceiling. There was a hairline crack that started right above my head. I followed it down the wall and saw that it pretty much cut the room in half. Right between me and Kale. Wasn’t that ironic? If I were superstitious, I’d consider it a bad omen.
“You’re both all right?” she tried again. There was a twinge in her voice that I’d come to associate with stress. Mom didn’t deal with everyday situations as well as Kale.
I wanted to scream. Hell, no, I wasn’t all right. The worst possible thing that could happen just happened. There was no way to make it right. Instead, I nodded.
“You’re sure?” she prodded. I couldn’t blame her. One look at either of us, and anyone with eyes would know it was a lie.
Kale looked like a guitar string ready to snap. His right hand wrapped around the arm of the chair, while the left clutched the edge of the cushion, knuckles white. The only sound coming from his end of the room was the soft dripping noise the rainwater made as it ran from the hem of his jeans and plopped to the floor.
I probably didn’t look much better. My muscles ached from touching Kale, and my head pounded like a heavy metal drum solo. Every inch of me was soaked, and already a dark patch on my left arm—a souvenir from crashing into the rooftop—had started to bloom. By morning, it’d be one hell of a bruise. My right shoulder hurt where Able’s hand had been, and the left one felt…odd. Not sore, but tingly. Kind of a mix between that pins and needles feeling you get when your leg goes to sleep and sunburn.
When Mom realized she wasn’t getting either of us to talk, she settled for shooting nervous glances between me, Kale, and the door. It was probably no more than five minutes—even though it felt like three hours—but by the time Ginger, Kale’s biological grandmother and the Granny Don of the Six Mafia, as I liked to call her, came through the door, I was about to crack. She was usually flocked by a horde of young, shirtless men, but tonight her entourage was a little different. This escort, with springy red curls, dangerous curves, and a smile made for an Orbit gum commercial, was considerably curvier than the others.
Ginger stopped in the middle of the room, plastic cup filled with the usual red liquid—fruit punch—in hand, and smiled. “I have a gift for you, Kale.”
The redheaded girl strolled from behind Ginger, head held high. Her eyes immediately found Kale. And stayed there.
I didn’t like her.
“This is Jade.” Ginger drained the contents of her cup, then pointed to me and said, “This is Deznee Cross, Sue’s daughter. And this,” she said, nodding to Kale as he rose from his chair, “is Kale. He’s the reason you’re here.”
“Okay, stomp the brakes and back the hell up,” I said. “You’re giving my boyfriend a redhead as a gift? That’s uncool—not to mention illegal.”
Kale looked from Jade to me, frowning. “You don’t like her.”
It wasn’t a question—he was stating the obvious. Or, what he thought was the obvious—which in this case just happened to be the truth. We were still working on the right and wrong times to say things. It was one of the bigger hurdles. Kale didn’t believe in hiding anything. If it was on your mind, you said it. If it was the truth, you went with it. Social acceptability was a lost cause with him.
“I don’t know her, so I can’t dislike her.” There was an overwhelming urge to add yet, but I kept my trap closed. My personality made me easy to get along with—unless you were looking at my guy like he was a big, juicy slab of prime rib with a side of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Which, just in case there was any confusion, she totally was.
“I’ve brought Jade here to help Kale learn to control his gift.” Ginger frowned. “And considering tonight’s events, it isn’t soon enough.”
Jade came forward and, while I tried to pick up the pieces of my jaw, reached for Kale. He stumbled away, knocking over the small card table beside the love seat in an attempt to put some distance between them. With a panicked look in Ginger’s direction, he said, “Is she trying to kill herself?”
“It’s fine, Kale. Trust me.”
Jade, who still had that annoying smile plastered across her face, stepped forward again and shook Kale’s hand—without shriveling up and blowing away. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Kale. I’ve been looking forward to this for months.”
He said nothing, only stared at her small hand clasped in his. An itch I hadn’t felt in a long time started worming in my gut. I was a bottle of soda that had just bounced down ten flights of stairs. Open me up, and I was going to explode. Ka-frigging-boom.
I wanted to wipe the smile from her face, but more than that, I wanted to pry their hands apart. Because they were still holding on to each other—something they should not be able to do.
Until this moment, there was only one human alive to ever touch Kale and live to talk. Me. Well, until a few minutes ago, anyway. Now Little Miss Sunshine comes along and just lays it on?
Forget not liking her. I freaking hated her.
She giggled and chewed the corner of her bottom lip—a move not many chicks could have pulled off without looking stupid. Unfortunately for girls everywhere, Jade nailed it. “You seem surprised.”
Kale didn’t answer. His hand was still attached to hers.
Okay, this was getting annoying. Someone had to step in because if they didn’t let go soon, there was a good chance I’d implode. Or start ripping limbs off. I turned to Ginger. “How can she touch him?”
“Jade is very special.” Ginger waved Mom over.
She had tears in her eyes and looked at Kale like he was some mythical creature she’d never seen before. “I’ve been waiting your whole life to do this.” There was another shock to my system as Mom wrapped her arms around Kale and squeezed—with the same result Jade had. Nothing.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Kale’s arms tightened, and he squeezed back. “How—”
Ginger wore a smug smile. “Jade is able to ground harmful gifts within an approximate fifteen-foot radius.”
“Plus I can do this.” Jade took the pen from Mom—thank God—and jammed it hard into her neck. For a moment, no one said a word. Tiny bits of plastic and droplets of ink trickled down her neck and fell to the floor. When she moved her hand, her annoyingly creamy skin was unmarred. No broken skin or red mark where the pen made contact.
Okay, so that was kind of cool. I was starting to feel a little inadequate. All I could do was mimic things—mostly small things—into something else. Apple to a pear. Dime to a penny. Ordinary paper to cash—all right, that came in kind of handy when eyeing a new pair of kicks. Sometimes I could mimic myself. I even did it to someone else—but that had been a disaster. Plus the whole thing came with a nasty, painful side effect.
“Jade is impervious to harm,” Ginger said. “But she also gives off an aura that stifles harmful gifts. The only drawback is that it has an individual, diminished effect.”
“Diminished effect?” Kale asked, looking at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it, too.
“Based on previous encounters, as long as Jade is near, she will restrain Kale’s gift and enable him to walk safely though a crowded room. The diminished effect comes into play on a person-to-person and encounter-to-encounter basis. The more physical contact an individual has wi
th Kale, the less Jade’s aura affects them.” She turned to me, frowning. “This shouldn’t be an issue for most people.”
Kale looked a little pale. “So after a while, the aura won’t allow Dez to touch me at all?”
“That won’t happen.” Ginger looked from Jade to me. “We don’t think.”
Jade took his hand again and squeezed, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something colorful. Kale chose that exact moment to look up. He blinked several times, then pulled his hand out of Jade’s with a look of apology. I couldn’t really blame him. To discover a way to have finally have the thing you’d always wanted had to have been overwhelming.
Still, as sick as it would have sounded out loud, I wished he’d paw my mom instead because I wasn’t thrilled with the shit-eating grin this chick wore whenever she looked at him.
Jade looked from him to me, rolled her eyes, and continued without missing a beat. “In the past, people who have essentially overdosed on my aura just need some space. After a day or so, it seems to work again just fine.”
“So what happens if someone overdoses on your aura? They’d touch Kale and, what, die?”
“I imagine it would be extremely painful before it came to that. Hopefully the person touching him would be smart enough to let go. His gift is very strong. Even I can feel it.” Jade giggled and flashed him a flirty smile. “It sort of tickles. I imagine anyone coming in contact with Kale’s skin is going to feel something. Even if it’s nothing more than a twinge.” With a smug grin, she said, “Keep it brief, and you should be fine.”
Every second we stood here with this bimbo, the room felt smaller and smaller.
Ginger turned to Mom. “Did you feel anything?”
Mom glanced at Kale and hesitated. He was statue still, waiting for her answer. If there was anyone besides me on earth that he would die before hurting, it was her. She’d raised him inside Denazen.
“I felt—something. But it wasn’t pain.” She rushed on. “More like a tingle. Similar to acupuncture needles.”
“Excellent,” Ginger said, crunching the empty plastic cup in her hand. She pulled Mom to the corner by the television, and the two spoke quietly. Normally I would have tried to eavesdrop, but my attention was on something else.