“What are you doing…?” I ask once I wake up enough to resume thinking consciously. Duncan laughs, the lightheartedness reaching his eyes as he answers.
“I haven’t done this before, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about trying. You have to remember, I don’t know anything about half-breed culture, and I’ve been curious about what your fur really feels like….and if you’d like it being touched or not.” His face reddens slightly, but even if he did have another motive in mind, it’s not like I wasn’t thinking of the same thing.
“I don’t mind,” I confess, my cheeks turning pink
from my wayward thoughts. “It is actually common in half-breed culture for the animal aspects to get some attention: mothers nip the ears of their children if they’re misbehaving while very young, and when siblings fight, tails and feathers are often pulled. Harold used to kind of scratch behind my fox ears to make me relax whenever I was antsy as a child…it’s kind of embarrassing to admit now,” I laugh self-consciously.
“This is what I’m missing,” Duncan says ruefully.
“Because I don’t belong to your world, and haven’t belonged as a child, I miss out on the great aspects of your kind…things I could share with you.”
“You could let it be known that you’re half-breed, or…” A wild idea crosses my mind, one where Duncan and I leave our region and run away to a place where no one knew he was ever human; it’s so close to a real solution that I almost say what I’m thinking.
“Or?” he queries.
“Never mind.” I’m glad I caught myself before I voiced something that wasn’t a real option; still, a strange sense of disappointment fills me. “What do you want to do, Duncan?”
“I want to…to claim you, or whatever,” Duncan’s answer catches me off guard. “Not like I own you, obviously…call it the protective instinct, but I want everyone to know I’m with you. You…you’re worth everything to me, and I don’t think you deserve to be a part of my life I have to keep hidden from everyone else.”
“I can’t say I don’t feel the same way,” I avoid looking at Duncan, resuming our walk so we can move along the trail. “But if it’s not safe…”
“Is it ever going to be totally safe? I’m not trying to be aggressive about being a couple…but why shouldn’t we be the ones to take the leap?” Duncan reasons, following me. “If…if it’s true that the vaccine keeping humans human is no longer working, then might there be other half-breed humans out there experiencing the same thing I am? Perhaps even the same thing we are?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me. “Possibly.”
Duncan sighs again, making me worry if I’ve upset him. “I’m not saying we let everyone know tomorrow…but…we shouldn’t need to worry about word getting around. I love you. I love how you’re clever and careful and reckless all at the same time, and I don’t mind everyone knowing.”
My heart softens, even though I feel sure that this is a hasty decision to make right now. “I will think about it. Perhaps after the vote; after we see how much life changes once the humans decide to kick the M-DNA branch to the curb.”
Duncan doesn’t deny this, but his broad presence is reassuring, and my peace with this golden afternoon hasn’t been interrupted. “I love you too,” I say, nearly inaudible. Duncan squeezes my hand, and we continue on the trail and discuss pleasanter topics.
That was one of the better afternoons before the vote; after that, Harold forbade me to go out after school anywhere except Omnium Beanery when Eisen would be there. I didn’t blame him, and neither did Duncan. Something about the weekend before the vote made everyone realize that this would be the week where everything would change and half-breed
rights would be reduced to basically wartime measures. This meant a lot of robberies, a few very public shootings, and most likely more than one murder that was hushed up by the SMARTvision media.
So much for them being afraid of us, I would often think whenever Katrina would call out an insult, or whenever Bryan’s cold gaze fell on the back of my neck. Their presence had become threatening, and I’d begun avoiding places I knew where they’d be.
Looks like we’re more scared of them than they are of us. In spite of all of Lyle’s rabble-rousing and fight starting outside of school—which I frequently heard stories about, since I couldn’t shake off Shelby’s tenacious friendship—nothing serious had come of the aggressive, human-hating half-breed group’s plans.
The worst scare took place the Monday before the vote: Harold didn’t come home from work until nearly four in the morning, and when he came in he was staggering from exhaustion, hunger, and a nasty cut above his left eyebrow. By the time he walked in the door, I had nearly convinced myself that he wouldn’t, and Eisen had had to catch me before I collapsed at the base of the stairs. Then I’d half tackled Harold, hugging him fiercely before dragging him to the kitchen table under the light so I could treat his cut.
“What happened?” Eisen asked once the manic look went out of his eyes; Wade was standing by the front door, listening to our conversation but also making sure Harold wasn’t followed home; this was the best task for him, since whenever Wade was really stressed, he would revert to a more animal state of mind where problems were easier to handle.
“There was a shooter…in the firm…” Harold grimaced as I cleaned the crusty blood from his wound; I pressed my lips together to keep my pathetic soothing words back so he could explain. “You won’t have seen it on SMARTvision; they kept it hushed up, and it wasn’t important since it was only a human holding up the top lawyer in our firm.”
“That’d be you then, right?” Eisen said, grabbing random condiments and leftovers from the fridge so
Harold could eat as soon as I finished with the bandage.
Harold laughed grimly. “Obviously not. But that’s a good thing: the guy the shooter was after is in the hospital now with a few shattered ribs and a bullet near his lung.”
“What did he want? The shooter?” I asked, my voice cracking so I was barely able to speak.
“His version of justice, I suppose,” Harold growled, holding his hair back so I could finish treating his cut. “It doesn’t matter…he’s dead now, thanks to law enforcement when they finally arrived on the scene. I only stayed so long because they wouldn’t let us access our SMARTcalls. They spent most of the night interviewing each person and making sure we wouldn’t talk about the event with anyone.”
“But how did you get hurt?” Wade snarled as he came in, standing in the doorframe with his fists clenched to whiteness.
“I got a little mouthy with the shooter for smacking around that top guy’s assistant, and he introduced my head to the desk a little more forcefully than I would like.” Harold grimaced again before motioning Eisen
over with the food. “That’s part of the reason I’m so late…by the time I came to, I was last in line, and the officers took extra time with me because I was injured and a possible liability.”
Harold spent the rest of the wee morning hours right up until I had to get ready for school reassuring us that he was fine and not in trouble with the law just for being present at a crime scene…as long as he didn’t talk, that is. His reassurances were a little helpful, but my
eyes met Eisen’s over Harold’s head as he spoke. If it’s this bad now, I knew we were both thinking, how bad will it get after the vote?
30
Dear Students:
It has come to my attention that threats of violence have been made against students in this school. Therefore, all M-DNA student classes and lunch periods have been relocated to the lower wing until further notice. It is for your own safety that students will be separated by DNA class beginning this Wednesday. Trespassing between the upper wing and the lower wing will be a punishable offense. 50 demerits and two weeks of detention will be dispensed to students who disobey this rule.
In addition, the local SMARTvision media crew will be present Wednesday morning to interview students a
bout the vote. It is a great honor for our school to gain
publicity this way, as we are the biggest institution in our area with the most sizeable population of M-DNA students. I expect each of you to behave in a manner befitting your school.
Your Principal,
Belinda Harper
I don’t know how I wanted to wake up this morning, but reading this SMARTnote from Belinda Harper has been a bad start to a day already bloated with the collective anxiety of a nation. I dress woodenly, but the clothes I have laid out are a bit nicer than my regular school clothes. I like looking prepared for an event, even if I’m dreading it the entire time. The day isn’t nippy, but I feel cold; brown skinny jeans with slender caramel colored boots rising to my knees and a teal long-sleeved top make me feel cozy in spite of my fear for the future.
My brothers hover around the kitchen, equally prepared for their work days and brooding in total silence. My heart saddens at the stony expressions on their kin-related faces, and I try and fail to consume the lukewarm eggs and toast Wade made for us. We’ve been taking our breakfasts in the living room lately, watching the news for any change in the vote schedule or in case a new story of violence escapes the SMARTvision media muzzle, but I know none of us can stomach the smug, flabby face of Abel Denmann today.
DUNCAN LEDFORD: I’m here.
The message from Duncan wakes me up long enough to say farewell to my brothers. I give each of them an extra-long hug, just in case I don’t see them until very late in the day. Who knows, I think miserably as I walk out to my boyfriend’s car, there could be another war by three p.m. today, and they’ll go off to fight just like Dad.
“Morning,” I grunt at Duncan, my voice rusty from
lack of use since last night. Wade probably isn’t watching at the window, so I lean over to bestow a brief but sweet kiss on Duncan’s lips.
“Morning,” Duncan replies once I settle back in the passenger seat. “Are you ready for today?”
“No,” I speak honestly, “But I will be.” I notice the two drinks resting on the bench seat in the space between us; Duncan must have made an Omnium Beanery run, and he brought me my rice pudding drink as well as his peppermint Whizard.
“Thanks,” I tell him, pleased by his thoughtfulness as I stir the cinnamon into the milk with my peach colored straw.
“I thought we’d need caffeine fortification for this morning,” Duncan explains, but he smiles at my praise.
We don’t talk much for the rest of the drive; Duncan holds my hand, and when I’m not sipping my drink I balance it in my lap and respond to Hayley’s message.
HAYLEY MANCHESTER: Are you still going to do it?
SIERRA MAURELL: Yes…it feels like it’s time. Besides, Duncan already picked me up, and people will see us arrive at school together even if I wanted to back out.
HAYLEY MANCHESTER: I can tell you don’t…besides, marching in the front doors hand in hand will be a real statement.
SIERRA MAURELL: That’s the point: too many witnesses to say it didn’t happen, and it helps that the
local media will be there. It’s too public to cover up…and go big or go home, I say. Besides, this will gauge how the reception will be if Duncan ever decides to let his furry little secret go public.
HAYLEY MANCHESTER: True…but wait, a news crew will be there? That’s encouraging and sad at the same time…
Tell me about it, I think wryly. Last night when Duncan came over, and I told him about Harold’s dangerous adventure at work, and the consequent media cover-up, he was silent for a few minutes as he digested the information. Of course he was sympathetic, and he held me as I endured the short thirty seconds of a panic attack.
“I almost lost my brother to a crazy shooter,” I told him once I could trust my voice again, “And I have a funny feeling that even if he had been…more seriously injured, no one would have ever known about it.”
“They would’ve,” Duncan assured me, smoothing his hand over my messy, un-styled hair. “You and your
brothers would have spread the word in your own special way.”
“I could’ve always hired the Reiss to prosecute somebody, or take someone out.” I felt a bitter laugh clawing at my throat, and the tail end of it came out sounding strangled.
“Next time call me, okay?” Duncan said as my brothers pattered around the kitchen hunting for more food; we were sitting alone in the living room, since for now Duncan isn’t allowed to sit with me in my room. “I
don’t care what time it is, I want to be there for you if something crazy is going on. Even if I’m asleep, keep calling until I answer.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I mumbled, sleep gradually overpowering my senses. But an idea formed in my head as I snuggled beside Duncan, and when I brought it up, he listened and was willing to go along with my plan.
It’s not right that our lives are treated as shameful, and bad things that happen to us shouldn’t be covered up. I go through my reasoning process again to give myself courage for this morning’s plan. Good or bad, we have a right to live openly, and if I can show my kind how to do that and give them courage, it will be worth it.
“Have you ever thought that no one will notice?” Duncan interrupts my reverie as we pull into his usual parking space at the school; our drinks are gone, and we leave the cups on the seat as we exit the vehicle. I give him a sideways look, making sure he’s joking before I answer.
“They will…did you forget I was the half-breed
queen for the first two weeks of school? Lyle displaced me as king, but I can still draw attention if I need to,” I say, walking beside my boyfriend as I nervously regard the school. In some ways, Hostetler looks less intimidating than when I first saw it, but the increased population of students milling around the front steps with their necks craned to observe the sharp SMARTvision news crew does make me reconsider my plan to anger pretty much everyone.
“Let’s help them out, shall we?” Duncan slides his
arm around my waist, tugging me closer so that it’s very obvious we’re a couple as we walk. Very few half-breeds are present—most of them probably arrived early to avoid the news crew rush—but I do see a hostile looking Lyle and Ivar arrive on the scene. I wonder if they’ll bother entering by the front door and risking punishment, but I don’t particularly care.
“Last chance to back out,” I say as one or two students I don’t know do a double-take in our direction. “I could fake an ankle sprain, and you could be the good Samaritan—hey!”
“What?” Duncan tenses beside me, alert for trouble, but I ignore him as I regard the spunky blonde reporter interviewing a bored looking student at the base of the white brick school steps. She has the hungry look of a media worker about her thin face, and the smart blue business suit with the gold scarf gives her the look of someone desperate for public approval.
“That’s Thea van Asch,” I tell him, “Don’t you recognize her? She’s been in Abel Denmann’s pocket for years, so the rumor goes.”
“Oh yeah,” Duncan says as recognition dawns in
his eyes. “She did that interview with the senator a few days ago, didn’t she? The one where all she could talk about was how half-breeds have stolen decent jobs from everyone else, and how mandatory sterilization could be the greatest step forward for our country in a hundred years.”
“That’s her.” I glare at the back of van Asch’s head as she shoves a microphone into a sleepy looking student’s face. “Ugh. I didn’t realize Belinda had invited her.”
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Duncan coaxes me into resuming our approach to the school. “She’ll be sure to get the word out.”
“Yeah, along with all the other biased crap she’ll spew on every SMARTvision network she can reach,” I grumble, but my annoyance is easy to maintain as a defense against my fear.
This is the best thing to do, I tell myself as student heads turn in our direction. They don’t seem to believe what they’re seeing; Duncan’s
arm around me is a dead giveaway, and I see many eyes zero in on the place of contact between us. I realize my face with its furrowed brows and pursed lips must make me look like an angry hostage, so I look up at Duncan to distract myself. His expression is calm, far more so than mine, and he looks content to be with me, like this is an everyday thing. Just a boy walking his girlfriend into school.
That’s what it should be, I think, my fears dissipating as Duncan gives me one of those sideways smiles I love. The sun gleams on his brilliant red hair and reflects the sparks of gold in his peridot eyes. I feel golden too,
filled with my purpose. The whole point of this is making our relationship a normal thing. This is what I’m fighting for.
“Hey,” Duncan says as we purposefully ignore the incredulous expressions of the many people who’ve spotted us. I’m not sure I want to see those looks turning into dawning expressions of realizing the truth. “I’m glad it’s you, if I haven’t mentioned this before. Of all the half-breed girls around, I’m glad everything in me chose you.”
My heart leaps, and I experience that rare feeling where Duncan and I are the only two people on this whole campus; we’ve stopped walking, and we face each other as we stand close together. We’re near the news crew, but not too close.
“Yeah…I think you’ve mentioned it before…but I wouldn’t change anything about us. You’ve made my life exciting just by existing, and I have a feeling it’s going to stay that way.”
“Sierra…can I try something? I really think it would complete this high school ideal we’re setting up today.” Duncan is serious, but he has a light in his eyes, and he reaches up to brush my bangs out of my eyes with his fingertips. He stares at me like he never wants to stop, and it’s impossible to look away.
“Go for it,” I say, my voice soft. In my peripheral, I see Thea van Asch looking our way as a human student points at us, probably telling her that Duncan isn’t a half-breed, but then none of that matters. Duncan’s mouth lands on mine, gentle at first before something crazy happens, and I can’t think of anything else.
Vixen (The Fox and Hound Book 1) Page 32