Firebloods

by Hays, Casey

  “I’ve made two more copies of this one and had Matty hide them both.” Satisfaction dances in her eyes. “I thought to myself, why not? It worked last time.”

  Genius. It takes everything in me to keep my expression neutral.

  “Frankie.” I lean on my elbows. “Someone came into your house and took something from you. What if they come back? Is this really worth it?”

  “It’s precisely why it’s worth it.” She sets her jaw. “It proves we’re sitting on a treasure, Jude. We’re going to win that scholarship fair.”

  And there you go. I don’t have a single reason to steal that drive. Frankie has outsmarted us.

  So I simply piece my sandwich back together and take another bite.

  Interlude

  Scents and Shields

  Have I mentioned I’m fascinated by Kane’s confidence? Well, I am.

  For the last few months before we became a “thing” I’d been known to stare at him a little too long because of it… and blush the color of beets when he noticed. Believe me, it wasn’t pretty.

  But seriously, the guy has no fear. It’s as if he walks in the light of self-assurance and total trust in who he is. His every move, every glance, every word proves it. He kind of mesmerizes me. Even now.

  I know what you’re thinking; he didn’t look so confident the night he came to my house in the pouring rain to confess his sins. But you can’t forget that he also sat on my porch all night long in that same rainstorm believing that’s all it would take for me to come around. So you see, even when he seems hesitant or nervous, you can’t mistake that for lack of confidence. Somehow, he’s also confident in the hesitation.

  There were times when his confidence emitted from him like a force field. And I don’t know why I believe this—I have no explanation for it—but I was certain I had nothing to fear when I was with him. Almost as if his shield of fearlessness protected me too.

  I was fifteen the first time I felt it. Kane, who’d had his driver’s license for a week, convinced me to go to Marlette Lake with him. He’d traded in his dirt bike for a midnight-blue Kawasaki two-seater with dark purple highlights—the same one he rides today. It’s a beautiful machine. Back then, brand new and magical, I couldn’t wait to climb on the back of it and get caught up in its roar.

  It was a warm and perfect day in September, and we felt so independent soaring down I-580 all by ourselves for the first time. Legally anyway. I stood up just a little off the seat and threw my hands in the air with a squeal.

  “I love this life!” I screamed it at the top of my lungs and slid back down to give Kane a bear hug from behind that made him laugh through the built-in intercom in my helmet.

  We parked and took Marlette Lake Trail that day. At the halfway mark, we veered far off the path to find our own little hideaway under cover of the trees. Kane brought a blanket and a small cooler with sandwiches and fruit, and we had our own little private picnic. He always remembered things like that. If it were up to me, we’d starve.

  We ate and then stretched out beside each other on the blanket. Birds tweeted everywhere around us, and in the distance, we could hear the murmur of hikers passing by.

  “It's pretty today,” Kane mumbled close to my ear. “I like it when the wind isn't blowing too much. You can smell the individual parts of the forest better.”

  He breathed in, so I automatically did too. I smelled him.

  It was overwhelming on that particular afternoon—a beautiful power in the scent. It defined him. I sensed his confidence weaving its way through the tapestry—among other things. Loyalty. Faith. Promises. I know it’s weird, but it was the only description I had at the time.

  “You smell nice,” I whispered.

  Surprised by my own words, my eyes fluttered open.

  “You can smell me?” he asked.

  I stared at the treetops. I’d never mentioned it—not since kindergarten—and I hadn’t meant to say it then.

  “I know. It's stupid. But yeah, I can smell you. Vanilla mostly.”

  “You smell vanilla?” His tone carried his disapproval, and I propped up on my elbow to look at him.

  “Don’t worry. It’s manly vanilla.”

  “How long have I smelled like vanilla?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Always.”

  “Really?”

  He wrinkled his nose, and I bit my lip.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything, okay? I’m sure something’s wrong with my olfactory nerve.” I plucked up a long blade of grass and rolled onto my back. “If it helps, Devan smells like cherry lip gloss. A lot.”

  “Uh, there’s a reason she smells like that.”

  “Yeah. I guess her scents make sense.”

  “A pun?” He laughed. “That earns you extra points.”

  Smiling, I ran the blade of grass through my fingers.

  “So I smell like vanilla,” he muttered.

  I met his eyes.

  “Woodsy vanilla,” I corrected.

  “Well, woodsy vanilla is far better. That’s the scent to every girl’s heart. I could have turned it up if I’d known.”

  I gave him a playful shove, and he laughed. We were silent a few minutes.

  “Do you want to know what you smell like?”

  His golden-flecked, green eyes intensified, vivid even in the daylight, and I let myself get caught up in them for a moment. That’s why I didn’t see the park ranger who spotted us from the edge of the trail.

  “Kids? You aren’t supposed to be off course. You’ll need to get back on the trail now.”

  Kane sprang to a squat. The park ranger was at least fifty yards away. He pushed through the foliage toward us. I came to my knees, but Kane grabbed my wrist and held me in place.

  “Shhh…” He put a finger to his lips. “I’ll take care of it.”

  I felt it then. The shield.

  The air stilled, so inert it seemed to have left the atmosphere, and heat took its place. A fierce wall of solid heat. It encircled us and held me to my spot. But I remember, even without a breeze, Kane’s scent was thicker than ever, tantalizing my senses.

  I had no idea what he was up to, but clearly he wasn’t afraid. I was terrified. And the park ranger moved closer by the second.

  I held my breath. The ranger reached us and stopped feet from where we sat. Kane’s hand flexed ever so slightly, and he opened his mouth as if to say something. He didn’t have to say a word. The park ranger scanned the area, took off his brimmed hat, and scratched his head, confused. And then, he turned back toward the trail.

  “Damned kids,” he muttered.

  We watched him go, and as soon as he was out of sight, the breeze kicked up and blew a strand of hair into my face. I pushed it away and stood.

  “What just happened?” Shock rattled through every pore in my body. “Why’d he leave?”

  “That was weird.” Kane climbed to his feet, eyes toward the trail. “I guess he decided we weren’t hurting anything.” He glanced at me. “But we better go, in case he changes his mind and comes back.”

  He busied himself with packing up the cooler after that while I folded the blanket, but I couldn’t get the park ranger’s strange behavior out of my mind for the longest time.

  It took two years for me to solve the mystery. Two. That’s also how long it took for Kane to tell me I smelled like roses and rain.

  Twenty-two

  Frankie and I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room planning our exhibit. It takes everything in me to focus. To laugh when it’s called for. To keep my mind on the minute details. Eventually, she leaves, and I waste no time calling Kane to tell him everything I learned from her. He falls completely silent on the other end of the line.

  “Kane?”

  A release of breath.

  “This is bad.” His voice is so quiet I barely catch his words.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “It means your parents know about the audio already.” I pause, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Why didn’t
they tell you?”

  “They don’t think I know about it,” he says. “Because I didn’t—not until you told me. I got rid of the video feed. I thought that was enough.”

  We’re both quiet, and my mind races a million miles a minute. The conversation on that recording pricks my conscience, and I know I need to tell him what I heard. I just don’t know where to start. His breathing is distinct on the other end, and even through the distance I can feel his fear. It’s rare for him to be afraid, and it’s rare for me to feel him. But I do, and my heart palpitates suddenly and very rapidly.

  “Jude.”

  His voice breaks in.

  “Yeah?” My breath trembles.

  “Put on your ring.”

  Startled, I straighten, and my eyes dart toward the soap dish across the way. Did he just climb into my head?

  I move the two steps it takes to reach the sink, and I pick up my ring, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. The dark ruby, like a brilliant red eye, watches me.

  One enigma after another parades across my brain, and I can’t deny that all of them inevitably include Kane in the march. I see it from beginning to end unfolding like a giant maze. He can feel me; he’s always been able to feel me. But connecting with him so acutely—through the phone line no less—kind of blows my mind.

  And right now? I can feel him too, and it has something to do with taking off my ring. I feel him. I feel what’s on his mind. I feel as if his impending hearing before the Fireblood Contingent is my own, and it shakes my core.

  I slide on my ring. It takes a few seconds, but my heart slowly stills, and Kane’s angst fades out. I clench my fist. This ring… How did Daddy do it? And why?

  I lick my lips, and I simply ask. “Did my dad know about you? Is that why he gave me this ring? To protect me, just like he said?”

  Silence.

  “Kane?”

  His quiet voice echoes in my ear. “I think that’s something you need to ask your mom.”

  “No.” I stiffen, an anger welling up. “I’m asking you. Was he trying to protect me from you?”

  “You need to ask your mom,” he repeats more sharply.

  My chest tightens, my ribcage literally shrinking in a little around my heart as I let the irritation stew.

  “Fine,” I say. “I will. And one more thing.” I pause for effect. He waits, a quiet space hanging between us, so I just say it. “I heard the voices on that audio. Two voices. And I know what they said.”

  The wall of shocked silence thickens so heavily that I really do think he’s hung up on me. Fifteen seconds passes. Twenty.

  “I’m coming over,” he finally says.

  “Yeah.” I keep every bit of emotion from invading my words. “You’d better do that.”

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, he finally makes the three minute trek to my house. I guess it took him that long to get his nerve up to face me. I kid, but I like how it sounds.

  I also like how he fidgets, standing here in my foyer, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. What? Has Kane finally lost his cool? I can’t lie; at the moment, I kind of like seeing him squirm.

  “Well?” Perched on the back of a sofa that sits directly across from my front door, I wait for him to spill it.

  He sighs, long and deep.

  “Okay, yes.” He steps closer. “Another Fireblood was with me.”

  I don’t respond. But I do tilt my head, just a tiny movement to the left, and wait some more. I’m not dragging anything out of him. I’ll just let him squirm until he feels obligated to bare his soul. I mean, I have every right to know. He owes me after what he’s put me through these last few days.

  He closes his eyes. I study the thickness of his lashes laying against his cheeks, but I’m not about to let this stir my heart. I drag my foot a little higher up the backside of the sofa and rebalance to gain my focus.

  “We talked,” he continues. “It got a little heated, and one thing led to another. We both flared in our anger. That’s it.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Unh-uh.” He pins me with his eyes. “I’m not exposing another Fireblood.”

  “Not even to me.”

  The statement stings us both; I can tell by the shift of his shoulder. I feel a little bit bad about it, but here’s the deal: Kane and I have spent years learning each other. We’ve shared so many experiences, words, moments. And now, we’ve moved up a level. We’ve arrived at the point where we should want to share everything. Every secret, every wish, every dream. So what’s the problem here?

  Okay, don’t answer that. It was stupid of me to go there because everything I just said leaves out the awkward truth: Kane’s a Fireblood. This complicates us. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I understand. Clearly, a certain amount of discretion is required on his part—maybe even a brotherhood among the Vatra u Krvi that I know nothing about. Something that fuels his loyalty to them despite his devotion to me. The reality of it hurts, but I can’t blame him for it. I get it.

  I redirect my emotions, release a heavy sigh, and uncurl my arms. “Look, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t have to know everything.”

  I roll my eyes, realigning us on level territory. His brows lift just a tiny fraction, and a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He takes the final step that brings him close enough for me to reach out and grab his shirttail, pulling him the rest of the way to me.

  “You could have told me you weren’t alone.” I hang my hands over his shoulders. “What would that have hurt?”

  “I just want the whole mess to go away,” he whispers. The warmth of his palms resting on each of my thighs sears right through my jeans. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Well, we have to.” I lift my chin, gently defiant. “I know your language, Kane.” My voice fills with disbelief all over again. “I’ve never heard it before; I couldn’t speak it to you now to save my life, but I understood every word. Why?”

  “I don’t know, Jude.” He shakes his head, keeping his gaze locked with mine. “Why can’t I compel you? I’ve told you before, you’re a mystery to me.”

  “And my ring?” I jut my hand up between us.

  He shrugs, wrapping his fingers around mine. “I feel compelled to make sure you’re wearing it.”

  “You feel compelled?” I let a small laugh escape me. “And… how do you know when I take it off?”

  “Your voice sounds different.”

  Well, that’s new. I free my hand from his and study the stone, rubbing my thumb across its surface. What in the world did my dad give me here? Kane’s fingers brush my jawline. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  “You need to talk to your mom,” he whispers.

  That old pang of suspicion causes me to squint into his eyes. “You know something.”

  “Just… talk to your mom.”

  His fingers are warm on my skin, and his eyes are so full. Flooded with real concern… not for himself. For me. I feel safe and scared all at once—securely strapped into a roller coaster car that races at full speed toward the ground. It’s the strangest combination of emotions. If a Fireblood thinks I’m a mystery… what in the world am I going to find out about myself when I talk to Mom?

  I don’t mean to cry, but tears well up in my eyes. It’s too much.

  “Hey, don’t cry.” Kane’s brows crease together, and he crushes me against his chest, his big hand cradling the back of my head. I welcome it, wrapping my arms around him and clinging like I never plan to let go. All the weirdness has finally caught up to me. “You’re fine, Jude. It’s all good.”

  I nod rapidly, my tears smearing across the front of his tee-shirt and leaving a smudge of mascara like a black frown. I want to believe it, but so many strange things have suddenly invaded my fairly ordinary life. Kane’s heart thumps against my cheek; he cups my elbow, leaning back to look at me.

  “Let’s go for a ride. We could both use the fresh air.”

&nb
sp; That sounds like a brilliant idea.

  “Okay,” I sniffle.

  ***

  We ride for a long time, racing north on I-580 toward Hobart Road, and I soak it up. The wind, the sun setting on the horizon that turns us into a zooming shadow, the feel of Kane against me—all of it clears my mind. I cling to Kane and refuse to think about anything for just a little while.

  Eventually, he drives us off the road and up into the trees right to the edge of the creek. The quietness is tremendous when the engine fades, leaving only an echo of itself in our ears. He slides off the bike and removes his helmet. I don’t move. He props the helmet on his hip and smiles. The golden flecks dance erratically. He isn’t holding back. Any minute now they’re sure to burst into flames.

  I unstrap my helmet and slide it off. My hair is tied in a thick braid, and I smooth my hands over it. Kane takes my helmet and sets them both on the ground near the front wheel. I dig at a hole in my jeans.

  “So I played the piano today,” I say, breaking into the silence.

  “No kidding?”

  I glance up and take in his smile. “Yeah.”

  “What made you decide to play?”

  I simply shrug. “I wanted to feel my dad.”

  “Well, good for you, Jude.”

  He chucks me on the shoulder with that big brother move of his, bringing us full circle and reminding me how far we’ve come. I smile and concentrate on the hole in my jeans. My flesh barely peeks through it.

  “Maybe I can trick you into playing for me.”

  I bite my lip to staunch my smile. “Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

  “Oh, I’m lucky,” he preens.

  Our eyes lock, and the softness I see in his makes me brave enough to ask my question.

  “What are you talking about on the audio?”

  Kane straightens his spine, shaking his head with a half-smile. “It’s not important.”

  “It sounded important,” I counter.

  I keep a steady gaze on him, waiting. The sun is setting, and this brings on the shadows. The creek babbles behind us—a gurgling voice winding through the trees. I rest my foot up a little higher on the exhaust pipe, which feels hot through the sole of my tennis shoe, and prop my elbow on my knee.