Raising Kane

by Long, Heather

  It had been a heady and humbling experience.

  “Am I doing it right now?” Sage leaned backward, every muscle in her appearing to tense. The next few minutes might break the girl if Scarlett didn’t handle it right.

  “Hold my hand Sage,” Scarlett curled her fingers in a beckoning motion. Children, she’d learned, craved touch. They needed it. She cuddled her babies all the time, but Cody had also needed touch when they were younger. He’d always sought her out, too. She’d been too young to understand the need then, just that he would go into his wolf form and curl up with her. She could sleep next to him, pet him and play with him in ways he never allowed others. That need translated into something else as they’d grown up, but he still occasionally showed up and leaned his weight against her leg. People needed to be touched and they couldn’t allow this nascent fear to terrorize the girl.

  She’d woken up knowing that this morning—after what she suspected had to have been a long conversation with her father in her dreams. It had been a while since Quanto came to visit, and though the exact content of the dream remained nebulous—she knew he’d come to talk about the new Fevered children even as he inquired about Molly and Cobb. The shaman avoided any direct answers about Kid, a frustration that was as clear as his answers had been vague.

  “Mrs. Kane…”

  “Scarlett. We’re sisters, you and I. You don’t have to call me Mrs. Kane.” Even if she privately adored sharing Sam’s name, a delicious title to name the life she shared with him.

  “No we’re not.” Sage’s hesitation dried up in arid dismissal. “My family died, I’m just an orphan.” Hostility edged the words.

  “No one is ever just an orphan. I wish I’d known your parents better.” A sincere desire she’d felt about all of the children. “But Sage—all of the Morning Stars are orphans and we are a family together. You are a part of that family, all of the kids are.” She didn’t sugarcoat it. “And you can hate us and be mad at us and throw things at us and make our powers go haywire and we’re not going to abandon you. You’re stuck.”

  Confusion clouded those young eyes and her hand twitched, but Scarlett kept her arm extended and waited. “That’s not entirely true…I heard about what your brother tried to do to Delilah.”

  Scarlett sighed. “Okay. That’s a fair accusation.” Wyatt hadn’t made friends with his assault on the ranch. But he’d hurt no one—save for Jason and she didn’t think he’d intended to hurt Jason. Making a mental note to nudge Sam about seeing if his brother was okay, she focused on Sage. “Some gifts are dangerous, extremely so. Mine is one of them. Wyatt—Wyatt understands the dangerous gifts better than anyone. He was worried about us.” She thought through the next words very carefully. “Delilah has a very dangerous gift—you understand what she can do, yes?”

  The girl nodded once, distrust a deep bruise in her eyes.

  “All of my life, I knew that if I ever lost control—if I ever went too far—Wyatt would stop me.” She didn’t bother to disguise her relief at that knowledge. “I’ve hurt the people I love, without ever meaning to, because getting my gift under control means I have to be vigilant about it at all times. Delilah is the same. Mariska—Cody—every one of us. Some are more dangerous than others.” Chancing that honesty would have the best impact, Scarlett held up her free hand and cupped her fingers, and flames flickered to life with a thought. The fire danced in her palm. “Wyatt would never hurt me without a damn good reason. He came here because he thought that Delilah might have taken all of us under her sway, and he wanted us safe.”

  Sage frowned and stared at the flames flickering in one palm to the other hand Scarlett still held out to her. With great tentativeness she reached out and clasped Scarlett’s hand. Power rushed through the firestarter, but she diverted it, riding the heady wave with an exhale. The orange and red flames went bluish-white.

  Eyes widening, Sage stared at the change. “The color…”

  “Yes. This is how I know you are amplifying me.” When the girl bit her lip and would have withdrawn her hand, Scarlett gave it a gentle squeeze. “No, this is a good thing. Because now we can see if we can turn it off and give you more control.”

  Understanding blossomed in those eyes and deeper still—hope glimmered.

  Jimmy, The Ranch

  Shane eyed the target and lined up the rifle. The sixteen year old was easily as big as any of them, and it was easy to forget how young he was. His shoulders were set, his back curved slightly and his legs braced. When the weapon kicked—and they always kicked—he wouldn’t lose his balance. The lines of concentration between his brows were tight and his eyes narrowed against the flickers of sunlight playing off the distant target. Jimmy had chosen to set the targets up near a watering hole—the glare of the sun off the water increased the distraction and made distance harder to judge.

  With one deliberate squeeze the rifle barked and the target didn’t move.

  “Dammit.” The oath didn’t carry any heat, but Shane glanced at him in question. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Depends, what are you targeting?” Jimmy didn’t have to look at the target to know if he could hit it, but others needed that line of sight. They needed to know how to lead a target if it were moving and how to compensate for other visual distractions. Shane needed a skill that had nothing to do with his ability—shooting worked.

  “The target.” He waved his hand toward it, the rifle pointed at the ground. Rule number one when holding a weapon and talking to someone, never point it at any one. Jimmy enforced that rule with ruthless brutality. Weapons had to be respected. Period.

  “Look at the target again. Look at the water. The water moves and the sun is playing off the ripples.” He waited for Shane to do what he told him to. “Now look at the target again.”

  Shane had to squint and then he blinked hard. “It’s hard to focus with the glare.”

  “Exactly. So you don’t look at it. You look at the target, you identify the glare and the effect it has, are you squinting, does it mess up your aim, how steady is your arm. These are all questions that need to roll through your mind, and then you have to accept that all of them are true. So how do you compensate?” The day began cool, but warmed up quickly and Jimmy had shed his duster and hung it over the saddle he’d stripped off his horse.

  Frowning, Shane shook his head. “I don’t know whether I’m pulling right or left.”

  “Well let’s find out.” Grabbing a couple of boards, Jimmy headed out to the target and set them up on either side of it, then he found some pebbles and added those between the boards and the targets. With a wave to Shane, he headed back to a position behind the younger man.

  Wasting no time, Shane reloaded the rifle, lined up his shot and took it. The right board went down with a bang.

  “Right.” They said in unison. Jimmy went back to fix the targeting area. Returning, he nudged his hat up higher on his forehead. “Know what you need to do?”

  “Close my right eye.” Shane said and proceeded to do that. He took off the right side of the target—but he’d hit the damn thing. His whoop brought a grin to Jimmy’s lips.

  “Nicely done.”

  “Thank you.” For a second, Shane’s expression looked young and open with a wide a smile and a shyness brought on by the compliment.

  Amused, but understanding masculine pride, he touched a hand to his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky. You still didn’t hit the center.”

  Undeterred, Shane nodded. “So I do it again and again until I get it right.”

  “Yes and no.” The lesson served two purposes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” Shane nodded. “The kick of the rifle hits, but I’m not—“ He flexed his free hand by way of explanation. “Not really feeling it.”

  “And when I squeezed your shoulder?” The kid went super strong whenever they hit him with anything, hit him repeatedly and he turned into solid iron and a person was likely to do more damage to themselves before they hurt him. Jimmy
had a theory, but it was a dangerous one and he didn’t want to test it out yet.

  Shrugging the shoulder Jimmy had squeezed, Shane blew out a breath. “Yeah, I got a little heat when you did that.”

  “Heat?” Jimmy wanted to clarify the term, because when Scarlett said heat something might literally melt.

  “I get hot.” The younger man compressed his lips into a thin line. Concentration tightened his jaw. Jimmy waited, letting him work out the words. “It’s not like fire hot, but that—you ever get embarrassed and you…” Shane fanned his hand against his face. “Get hot? You’re not really hot, but you feel real warm and then goes away again?”

  “Such as when a lady smiles at you or kisses your cheek?” Jimmy did his damnedest not to smile.

  “Yeah.” Shane shifted and looked anywhere but at Jimmy.

  “So you get a little warm and then it went away?” He drew the conversation back to the kid’s ability and away from the more embarrassing topic.

  “A little yeah.”

  “Okay, try to hit the target again.” He nodded toward it and waited while Shane reloaded the rifle. The younger man had a reputation for being a hothead, but he wasn’t any angrier than Cody had been at the same age or Jimmy for that matter. It helped no one to be afraid of him and if they couldn’t help him, the worst thing they could do was make him afraid of himself.

  Several attempts later, Shane hit the target more than he missed it and twice got it dead center. Satisfied, Jimmy called a halt to the practice. “We’ll work with the colt next time. How are you with throwing knives?”

  “I’ve never used one.” Shane made sure the rifle was empty and set it against a rock to cool before heading over to clean up the targeting area.

  “We’ll get you a set.” They worked in silence, but the quick looks Shane kept tossing him couldn’t be ignored. “Ask.”

  “It’s a stupid question.” But apparently one that bothered him.

  “So? Ask anyway.” They stacked the wood up and scattered the pebbles. By the time they finished, only the upturned dirt from Shane’s misses showed they’d even been there.

  “I don’t need weapons.” He spread his arms wide. “I’m a weapon.”

  “To a point, yes you are. So is Scarlett. We still taught her to shoot.” He wanted to see if Shane would follow the logic or not.

  “To a point?” The younger man latched onto the first three words.

  Jimmy nodded once.

  “How am I not a weapon? Somebody hits me, I get stronger. The more they hit me the stronger I get.”

  All true. “But what if someone shoots you?”

  Shane frowned. “I—“

  “You don’t know. Neither do I. We could test the theory, but that means you get shot.”

  “All right.” His ready agreement disturbed Jimmy.

  “No. Not all right.” They needed to bury that insane urge away immediately.

  “It won’t hurt me,” Shane argued.

  “You have no way to know that, and I have no way to know that. A bullet doesn’t have to kill you right away to kill you. Dying from stupid, impulsive actions is still dying.” Harsh, but their lives were, too.

  “So shoot me across a shoulder or something. Lots of people heal from grazes.”

  He shook his head in a sharp negative. “No and don’t ask anyone else to do it. We need to test the strength and the extent. We need to know what triggers you and what doesn’t—and you still need range weapons because unless someone is right in front of you, your strength won’t do you any good.”

  Distance was something Jimmy excelled at.

  “Come on, one shot. I think I’m right.” And foolish enough to keep pushing.

  “If I shoot you, you will die.” Jimmy didn’t boast. He’d learned the ugly truth of his Fevered ability the hard way—one soaked in the blood of others. When he used a weapon—he never missed and people died.

  “Only if the bullet does damage.”

  “My bullets always do damage.” Jimmy walked back toward their gear with Shane hot on his heels.

  “You can’t know that.” Shane pushed the argument, pride and youth making him cocky.

  Stopping abruptly, Jimmy turned and pinned the younger man with a look. “The biggest mistake a Fevered makes is believing they know everything about their gift. Until you’ve killed, until you’ve had it blow up in your face, you can’t know everything. I’m not risking your life on an idea that it might not be at risk, not when my own means I never miss. I always hit my targets and if I shoot someone—they die.”

  Shane stilled. “That’s your ability? To never miss?”

  “No, my ability is to kill. We’ll practice more tomorrow, as long as you follow the rules. You break the rules, you lose my trust. You lose my trust—you won’t get it back.” Jimmy had needed hard rules, inflexible, with swift and determined punishment. It helped him to discipline his gift. Shane, it seemed, needed the same thing. He held the younger man’s gaze unflinchingly until it was Shane that looked away.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good man.” Letting go of his tension, Jimmy relaxed and motioned to the horses. “I have to check the herds, you want to ride along?”

  “Really?” Mercurial temper, the need for approval, and the fluctuating confidence of a man who was still a boy and hadn’t fully matured into the man he would eventually be. The kid reminded Jimmy of himself way too much.

  “Why not? Long hard ride, lots of sweat and likely more work at the end of it, but I could use the company.”

  “Should we head back to let them know?”

  Proud of him for asking the question, Jimmy shook his head. “I told Cody this morning we wouldn’t be back until sundown. So they won’t be looking for us until then.”

  A flash of a grin, more boy than man. “Thanks Jimmy.”

  Chapter 15

  Kid, The Mountain

  The rains swept across the mountain and washed the face of it clean during two days of hard deluge. Kid spent most of the storms in front of the fireplace in the main room, working on the ‘shield’ Quanto had explained. Learning how to filter out the emotions of others was both a blessing and a curse. Much like the damn gift itself.

  Employing the concept, Quanto had explained hours earlier, worked differently for each individual. Some, he’d speculated, would possess a natural shield. Kid argued that he’d never met anyone he couldn’t read, but then, as the shaman pointed out, he’d not met every person in the world. Emotions, he also theorized, worked differently from thoughts and dreams. Jason had been able to keep Delilah from influencing him and she no longer seemed to have any sway over Buck.

  “That is because she loves him,” Quanto had smiled, a hint of delighted pride, when he said those words. When Kid pressed him on the issue, he shrugged. “I have had a theory for many years and, in the last two, I have seen it bear fruit.”

  Kid’s brows had climbed. “Would you like to share the theory or do you enjoy being vague and mysterious?”

  The older man chuckled, a dry, warm sound. “Our gifts are very much a part of us, utterly and completely. We never desire harming that which is dear to us and I have always believed our gifts would recognize those who are deeply precious to us and protect them as we are protected from them.”

  At no point could Kid recall a time when his gift protected him from its ravages, but the old shaman may have had a point. Delilah’s song had enchanted Buck, but after the near disaster on the ranch with young Tommy’s weather working abilities, Buck had said she’d sung and it hadn’t touched him. Scarlett never burned Sam, at least as far as Kid knew and he’d seen his brother walk through Scarlett’s fire to get to her. The flames didn’t so much as singe his clothing. Jo’s gift wouldn’t affect Micah one way or the other, so likely it had nothing to protect him from. That left Cody.

  “And his gift changed Mariska,” he’d argued. “He bit and she changed. He infected her.” A point few challenged, particularly since Mariska wrestled with that
truth before she accepted it. She wanted to be his mate and she wanted to be like him.

  “Cody’s gift is very different. It is a part of him and in his blood, but perhaps there will always be exceptions.” That concession hadn’t pleased the older man and he turned them back to the theory of shields.

  He’d suggested Kid construct something mentally he could envision as a barrier. The first thing that came to mind was the invisible boundary surrounding the Kane ranch. That barrier prevented Fevered from crossing onto their land unless invited by a Kane…and he’d invited an enemy firestarter across it without realizing how dangerous the man had been. If not for Scarlett, they’d have lost so much to his particular brand of destruction.

  “Constructing your shields must come from within you because you are the only one who knows what gets through and what doesn’t. You must build them upon your core strengths, but never build them so solid as to blind yourself or to make their removal impossible.”

  He’d wondered about the advice until he realized he didn’t want to be blinded, he merely wanted to have control. He wanted to be able to block others from drowning him in their surface emotions or eviscerating them with their deeper ones. But was the hell of not feeling anything worth the small measure of peace it brought him? Evelyn’s sharp, poignant pain stabbed him deeply every single time he was around her. Avoiding her hadn’t been an option until the shielding lessons and Kid wanted to be around her.

  The house was quiet around him. After giving Kid instructions, Quanto had taken Evelyn elsewhere for a lesson and he had no idea where Wyatt was. Rudy and Ike continued to be absent. Though Kid welcomed the solitude, he missed Evelyn too.

  Okay, focus. Get the shielding thing down, and then everyone could be where they belonged.

  Maybe I can go home… The errant thought slipped out before he could smother it and longing filled him in a way it hadn’t in years. He missed his brothers, even Jason. He missed the ranch, his room, the horses—hell, even dressing for dinner and sliding into his chair with only a few seconds to spare as his aggravated father gave him the look.