Silver Smoke (#1 of Seven Halos Series)

by Monica O'Brien

  "It's a risk," Thessa admitted. "But if we can help Brie, we should. What are you so afraid of?"

  "You mean aside from being tried for aiding enemies of the New Order?"

  "Clara, I owe Sirena's mother." Thessa folded her arms across her chest. "I promised." She felt like they'd had this argument a hundred times before, but for some reason, Clara still didn't understand Thessa's obligation to the Guerrero family.

  Clara was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "Getting caught up in the power struggle. That's what I'm afraid of. The New Order is corrupt and Sirena wants revenge. I don't want to become a tool for either side."

  "I won't let that happen," Thessa promised.

  Clara gave Thessa a suspicious look. "What are you afraid of, then?"

  Thessa looked into Clara's deep, chocolate eyes. "I'm afraid of what might happen if we don't train Brie. She's fifteen and she's powerful, maybe even more powerful than her mother was."

  "Her powers won't stop the New Order from killing her if they find out," Clara said.

  "I'm not afraid of the New Order finding her," Thessa said. "I'm afraid of her. Her powers are too strong, too soon."

  "You think she's stronger than a typical innate?"

  "I'm not sure, but if I can help her focus..."

  Clara heaved a deep sigh. "Whatever. I'll help you then."

  The bell rang, and the two girls gathered their belongings.

  "You don't have to, you know. You and Cora can move on. Theos knows you can take care of yourselves."

  Clara scoffed. "We wouldn't do that."

  Thessa shrugged her shoulders. "It's an option."

  Thessa turned and walked out the door, but she still heard Clara's mumbled response.

  "Not for me."

  *****

  Pilot sat at the kitchen counter, tapping his fingers against the granite uneasily. Brie was upstairs in her bedroom, ignoring everyone. Rykken played video games in the family room by himself—he didn't have a console at his house, so he took advantage of theirs every chance he got. Pilot glanced out the window. He felt like he was being watched, despite the fact that the van Rossum property was situated at the top of a hill in a cul-de-sac, and that the house was surrounded by jungle, forming a natural barrier to the outside world. Night was falling, and he considered walking through the rooms and closing the bamboo blinds. Almost every room in the house had floor to ceiling windows that provided amazing views during the daytime, but left Pilot feeling exposed in the evenings.

  Not that the van Rossum's had anything to be embarrassed about, exposing their home to strangers.

  Annie had redecorated that year, and all the furniture was a contemporary mix of dark, chunky woods and delicate metals, with plenty of flowery cushion fabric. A large, oval fish tank sat satirically in the space between the living room and family room, separating the two spaces. All the fish had died except for two flame angels, which Rykken had fondly named Sinker and Floater.

  The front door opened and Pilot, still on edge from sensing something he couldn't see, launched out of his seat.

  "We're home," called a high-pitched voice. Annie walked in dragging a small, black suitcase. James followed behind her with a much larger piece of luggage that matched the small one.

  "Dad," Pilot said. "Welcome home."

  "Son," James said, pulling Pilot into a one-armed hug in the foyer. James' cool, leather jacket chilled Pilot's skin, even through the back of Pilot's polo shirt. It never failed to amaze him that James could wear leather on the island without sweating.

  Pilot heard the sound of high heels overhead, clacking on smooth hardwood floors. Annie frowned at the sound. She lifted the suitcase she was holding by the side handle and skittered up the stairs.

  Pilot thought back to Annie's constant stream of positive press about James over the last two months. He missed you kids when you lived in New York. He felt like he never got to see you. He wishes he could spend more time with you. But Pilot was no longer a naive child. James had never been around when Pilot spent the summers in Honolulu as a young teenager. Pilot had given James plenty of chances that James hadn't taken. At times, Pilot wondered if he should have stayed in New York those summers, the way Brie had.

  James dropped his black leather jacket on the wicker couches in the family room, right next to where Rykken was sitting. Rykken looked up, and James muttered "Hi." Pilot grimaced, embarrassed that James had forgotten Rykken's name. Again.

  Rykken paused his game and stood up stiffly. "Good evening, Mr. van Rossum."

  He held out his hand, but James had already walked over to the counter where the take-out was waiting.

  James leafed through the bags, sniffing. "Pad Thai and curry from Phuket's. Annie knows my favorite." James looked around, running his fingers along the part of his long, black hair. "Where's Brie?"

  As if on cue, Brie clomped down the stairs. "I heard the door," she explained, seeing Pilot in the foyer. She glanced at the luggage. "Is someone here?" she asked, alarmed.

  "Brie, sweetheart." James walked over to the staircase with his arms outstretched.

  Brie stiffened at the sight of James. "What are you doing home?" James pulled her into a forceful hug and kissed her on both cheeks.

  "Pilot called me," he answered, cradling Brie's cheeks between his hands. James took one step back, holding up her wrists in confusion. "He said you might need to go to therapy?"

  Brie's jaw dropped. Rykken looked at Pilot in surprise. He gave Pilot a questioning look.

  "But you don't look sick," James continued, tilting Brie's head back and forth.

  Brie swatted James away. "Get off me."

  "That's not what I said." Pilot's eyes pleaded with Brie, who was glaring at him with a mixture of horror and betrayal. This was not what he had envisioned when he called James that morning, begging him to come home and help Pilot make decisions about Brie's well-being.

  Brie pouted. "You shouldn't have said anything."

  "Now, don't fight, you two." Annie had appeared out of nowhere and ushered all three of them into the kitchen. "We're going to have a pleasant family dinner whether you like it or not."

  Sure, a pleasant family dinner. The most pleasant dinner they might muster was one where no one was speaking to anyone else.

  Brie brushed past Pilot and walked over to the kitchen counter. She unpacked the bags of takeout, slamming each container onto the counter.

  "Sweetheart," James said, "therapy is nothing to be ashamed of." He grabbed a plate from the cabinet above the sink and silverware from the drawer next to the dishwasher. "I've gone several times myself."

  He sat down, scooping a huge serving of noodles onto his plate. "Brie, please. You're going through a hard time. You lost a parent."

  Brie glowered menacingly. "Not like it's the first time."

  Annie gasped. Pilot winced. Rykken drew a sharp breath, but James didn't show that he understood her.

  James patted the stool next to his. "Sit down, Brie. Eat something. You look like you've lost weight."

  Pilot pulled four more plates from the cabinet and served everyone. He tried to enjoy his dinner, but it tasted like an overcooked piece of tire. Brie stewed in silence, pushing her noodles around her plate without taking a bite. She seemed more focused on being angry with him than eating. Rykken ate his food quietly, listening and nodding politely as James talked about the new record he was working on.

  Rykken ate dinner at their house often, but Pilot probably should have warned him about tonight.

  "I'm taking a break from my record though," James said abruptly, shoving a jumbo shrimp into his mouth. He chewed for a minute. "I was wrong to go back to work so soon. I want to stay here and be a dad for a little while. Make up for lost time."

  Pilot refrained from rolling his eyes as he said, "Thanks, Dad. We would like that." It wasn't the first time James had made those types of promises, and Pilot wasn't holding his breath.

  "So now that I'm here, let's talk about what happen
ed his morning. Brie?"

  Brie stirred a skinny carrot stick in soy sauce with her chopsticks, soaking it. She set her chopsticks down and took a deep breath. "We had to drive the Aston because we were running late and Pilot didn't have any gas in his car. I think the car must be bugged with a tracking device. Once we hit the hills, three paparazzi found us and were chasing us down. They probably thought it was you driving.

  Anyway, the paparazzi were riding close to us and drove us off the road. I wanted to chase down one of the paparazzi following us, so I ran into the woods once the car stopped. I never caught up though. Then, Pilot and Rykken found me. We all got back into the car and drove to school."

  James shook his head. "I'm having the Aston checked for tracking devices so this doesn't happen again. Damn paparazzi."

  "I filed a police report," Annie said. "And the car is in the shop right now."

  Good," James said. "So everyone is fine then?"

  Brie nodded and Pilot groaned. "Brie left out the part where she thought one of the paparazzi was Mom." The words gnawed at his stomach, like he was pushing Brie into oncoming traffic. Rykken stirred his bowl of curry with intense focus, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

  "I did not," Brie said, a surprised look on her face. "Is that why you think I need therapy? You misheard me." She laughed, but her tone was hollow.

  "No I didn't," Pilot said, giving her a look to show he knew she was lying. "You shook me from the back seat. Then you told me to stop the car because you thought it was Mom on the motorcycle."

  "Pilot, I was freaking out because you were driving on the shoulder." Brie glanced at James. "If you want to yell at us for taking the Aston, you can. I'm sorry we ruined your car."

  James looked surprised. "Why? Did I tell you not to drive the Aston?"

  "Yes, you mentioned it explicitly." Annie looked like she wanted to say more, but she refrained.

  "We're getting off topic," Pilot said. "I know what you said Brie, and I'm worried as hell about you. When we found you, you wouldn't talk to us or respond or anything. Rykken will back me up, won't you Rykken?"

  James looked at Rykken expectantly. Pilot felt terrible putting Rykken in that position, but Brie's health was more important to him. He knew his friend would understand.

  Rykken rolled his shoulders back slowly; he and Brie locked eyes for a split second before he dropped his gaze. "You did mention something about your mom," he said quietly.

  James tilted his head toward Brie, eyes wide. "Milena's dead, Brie."

  "I know that!" Brie's voice shook. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

  James pressed two fingers to his temple, closing his eyes. "No, but if you're seeing dead people..."

  Brie opened her mouth to protest, but James held his hand up to silence her. He stood up, pacing back and forth, furling his brows and rubbing his hands together. "Pilot's right. I think you should see someone."

  "I'll set the appointment," Annie said.

  "No." Brie's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not going to therapy."

  James held out his hands. "Once a week for a few months, that's all we're talking about here." James looked at Pilot. "We can all go with you if you want."

  "I'm not going." Brie stood up. "You can't make me."

  "I'm your father. I can make you do all sorts of things."

  "No," Brie said, leaving the dinner table. "You can't." Pilot heard every step his sister stomped to the top of the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Seconds later, a door slammed.

  He buried his face in his hands. "Well, that went well."

  *****

  Like every room in the van Rossum house, Brie's bedroom was unnecessarily large, especially when compared to her room in Manhattan. The room had a separate sitting area that Brie had never sat in, a flat screen that she had never watched, and a bookcase full of things that she had never used. For the most part, Brie walked from the door to her bed and back. Every once in awhile, she rooted through her closet or used the attached bathroom, but nothing else in the room was of interest to her. Brie sat on her bed with her legs crossed, wondering how much worse the day could get. This morning, she was a somewhat-not-normal teen, but still in the safe cocoon she'd built to protect herself. By evening, she was a superhuman with natural and dangerous powers that everyone who wasn't a superhuman thought was crazy. She had an aunt who was about 100 years old but couldn't pass for an adult. And for the first time since she had started high school, she was enrolled in an extracurricular— cheerleading of all things.

  She had one consolation. All the questions she'd had about her mom's strange accident that others had shrugged off—all the months she'd spent trying to piece together the truth about her mom's death—were for good reason. Milena had a secret and Brie had a purpose. She would uncover whatever it was her mother had hidden from her.

  With James back though, it was going to be harder to train with the Hallows. Part of Brie wished she could go to therapy, but there wasn't much point when she couldn't be honest about what was really going on in her life. And anyway, it was dangerous to let anyone remotely near her thoughts and emotions until she discovered more about her powers and how to control them.

  She heard a light tap on her door. "Go away, Pilot." Guilt throbbed through Brie; she knew Pilot was worried about her, but she couldn't even tell him what was really going on. She wished he would make things easier and butt out of her life.

  "It's Rykken." Brie's spine tingled when she heard his name. "Can I come in?"

  Brie sighed loudly, making a big production of stomping to the bedroom door. She turned the knob and opened it a crack. "What is it?"

  "Pilot asked me to check on you."

  Brie opened the door all the way. "Are you on suicide watch now?" She held up her arms. "Look. No blood. My razor is sitting safely in the shower."

  Rykken cringed. "That's not funny."

  "I'm not joking. You saw James look at my wrists when he walked in."

  He eyed her, his gaze intense. "Can I come in?"

  Brie blinked. Rykken didn't wait for her to answer; he pushed past her and sat down on her bed, gesturing for her to join him. She sat gingerly on her plush comforter, tucking her legs underneath her.

  First boy in my new bed, she thought. Adele would love this.

  Rykken cleared his throat, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. "It would help you to have someone to talk to about your mom. Pilot talks to me all the time. He's sad, but he's recovering."

  Brie frowned; she didn't like the underlying tones of his husky voice. "I have someone to talk to—

  Sirena."

  "Earlier today you thought she was playing a prank on you and you couldn't trust her. Now you're best friends again?"

  "You convinced me I could trust her. Plus I don't really have a choice. I have to trust someone."

  Rykken squinted lightly, his skepticism reaching his eyes. "You can still consider a few therapy sessions."

  "What?" Brie glared at him. "You've checked on me. I doubt Pilot asked you to get in the middle of this."

  "You're right, he didn't." Rykken took a deep breath. He shifted positions, and his khaki shorts crinkled against his shirt. "I'm only saying this because Pilot is my best friend. Look at what your actions are doing to him. If you don't want to go to therapy for yourself, do it for him."

  "This is not about a few therapy sessions," Brie said, her voice rising. "It's about James barging back into our lives. He doesn't belong here. It's like being bossed around by a stranger."

  "Well, first of all, James lives here. This is his house." Brie huffed, but Rykken continued. "And second, can I give you some advice? James wants you to go to therapy because he cares. Give him a chance."

  "That's it? That's your advice?" Brie laughed. "You don't know James that well if you actually believe that. James wants me to go to therapy because it's a solution that he can pay for."

  Rykken folded his arms across his chest. "From someone who has never known his biological parent
s, count yourself lucky that you still have your dad."

  "He's not my dad. He left us when I was born."

  "There might be a good explanation for why he left."

  "Aside from selfishness?" Anger boiled inside Brie, causing her to rise. "You know what, Rykken? You can't give me advice. You assume that you know me because you and Pilot are best friends, but you don't know a single thing about me."

  Rykken flinched. "You'd be surprised how much Pilot confides in me."

  Brie barely resisted the urge to ask what Pilot had told him. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Here's what I know: your foster parents are nice and have spent more time with you in the past few years than James has spent with me in my lifetime. Yet you spend all your time over here, ignoring them and trying to be a part of my family."

  Rykken stood up, facing Brie. "Do you think it's easy growing up in foster care? You have everything here—every opportunity in the world to create a great life—"

  "No," Brie interrupted. "This may seem like a castle, but this isn't a fairytale. Money means nothing when you've moved across the country because the only parent you've ever had is dead."

  "You know that's not how I meant—"

  "My friends have sold my story to stupid, trashy celebrity magazines. The entire country is watching my every move, hoping to catch me falling apart. And now I have a whole lot more to worry about." Brie walked to her bedroom door and turned the knob to open the door. "But you don't know or care about any of that. You only see the upsides. You wish you had this money or fame or whatever you think is so great about us, and your friendship with Pilot gives you your daily hit."

  Rykken walked toward her, his eyes electrified, forcing her to take a few steps back. He leaned one forearm against the wall Brie was standing against, cornering her. "Is that really what you think of me?"

  His face contorted with anger, but there was a hint of sadness in his umber eyes.