It didn’t take long for her to figure that out. Allai’s eyes snapped back open after just a couple seconds, and she let out a small whimper. Damn, he hated that sound. He hated this entire situation.
“Flames,” Drake said. “How big were these flames?” He needed to keep her talking. Hopefully it’d prevent her from going into shock.
“Tiny,” she said. “And they were blue. No, red. But mostly blue.”
Small, blue flames. She had to be talking about Frost Fire.
Tanner had talked about this before, when he reminisced about the times when Mages had flourished and lived peacefully alongside Demon-kind. Drake chewed at his lip for a moment, and then asked, “You’re sure the flames were blue?” She’d already confirmed that twice. But he wanted to hear it again, just in case she’d been wrong before. Just in case she’d change her answer. Then hopefully he could calm the panic rising in his chest.
But what was it Dad had always said about being hopeful? ‘Hope is for fools, Drake. You’re already an idiot, don’t degrade yourself further with stupid dreams.’
“Yeah,” Allai whispered. “They were blue.”
“Of course they were,” Drake muttered under his breath. The salty tang of blood seeped onto his tongue, and he ran his tongue over his lower lip. There was a tiny cut there. He wondered how many more of those cuts he’d accidently give himself before he broke his lip-chewing habit. Probably a thousand or so, if the girl stuck around for long.
That thought made him growl and pull the girl a little closer. Of course she’d be sticking around. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and she… Well, maybe she would want to leave, and then he’d have to let her go. But first they’d have to deal with the lockgems binding them together. That almost made him happy, in a tasteless sort of way.
Allai shivered against him and let out another one of those whimpers. When had she started shaking again? He hadn’t even noticed. Some guardian he was.
“I think I know what those flames were,” he said quietly.
Allai didn’t answer. But he waited, and eventually she gave a slow nod. She was ready; she could take this.
“I think it was Frost Fire,” Drake continued. “It’s a type of Aura.”
“What’s an Aura?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself close, like she was bracing for the answer.
He stroked her hair a couple times, hoping to soothe her. It was odd how normal the contact felt. Well, maybe not normal. He couldn’t call it that, because his heart pounded harder every time she nuzzled closer. But the contact was… familiar. That was the right word for it. It was like all those years they’d been apart had never existed.
“An Aura is a person’s emotions in a physical form,” Drake murmured in her ear. “Different colors show different feelings and states of mind. Blue shows ultimate defeat. Mages used to call it ‘Frost Fire’.”
Allai took a deep breath. “Caedes Mages see these Auras, don’t they? That’s how I… How I almost killed those people. Drake, my powers are developing, aren’t they?”
Drake didn’t want to respond. The girl seemed so fragile, hiding inside his truck, curled up and shaking against him. But he had to respond, and he had to tell her the truth. She deserved at least that much from him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Some Caedes can see Auras. We call them Empaths. I guess you’re developing the powers of one.”
He didn’t add the rest of the thoughts swirling around his mind: that there hadn’t been an Empath born in two centuries, that they were the thought to be extinct. And that it would have been good if they were extinct. Because Empaths were simply too powerful.
“Can Empaths’ powers be dangerous?” she asked, her voice tiny and hushed. “I mean, is that how I was killing them?”
He almost laughed at her question. ‘Dangerous’ wasn’t the right word to describe an Empath. Chainsaws were dangerous, and high cliffs were dangerous. But Empaths? No. They were simply deadly.
Drake sighed. “Yeah, little Nox. Empaths are dangerous. They can…”
He didn’t know how to describe their powers without putting her over the edge. Was it even possible? He chewed at his lip for a moment before slowly saying, “If an Empaths changes a person’s Aura to Frost Fire—to defeat—it’s like stripping them of their will to live. The person’s heart and stuff will shut down. So, yeah, they’re dangerous.”
Drake decided now wasn’t the time to tell her about their other powers: That Empaths had control over all four elements, and that they could mess with people’s minds in ways he didn’t even want to think about. The Empaths were the reason Demons and Hunters despised Mages.
Allai’s arms jerked away from his neck, like she was afraid to touch him. But Drake had a feeling he wasn’t the one scaring her. She was afraid of hurting him; she was scared of herself.
“You didn’t mean to do it,” Drake reminded her. He pulled her a little closer, to show her that he wasn’t afraid of her. He could never fear her, no matter how powerful or deadly she became. “You’re not a dangerous person, little Nox. You’ll never be.”
“Drake.” She paused and swallowed hard. “But I… I hurt them. I almost killed them.”
“I know what dangerous people are like,” Drake insisted. “I lived with one for seventeen years. You’re not one of them.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “What did you do to that guy?” she mumbled. “You touched him, and then it was like he forgot everything. What happened?”
It was a desperate attempt to change the subject. And he’d go along with it gladly, even if her question brought up a topic nearly as uncomfortable as the current one.
“I stole his memories,” Drake muttered.
Why did that make him feel guilty? His first decision had been to kill the bastard—the man deserved it for endangering Allai the way he had. Stealing his memories had been the merciful option.
But he still felt guilty, just like he did every time he used his ability. Sometimes he wished he could just accept Dad’s philosophy on Mage powers: ‘Mages are born above others, Drake. They deserve to use their powers however they wish.’ But accepting his philosophy would be the same as accepting Dad. And Drake couldn’t do that, not after what Dad had done. Not ever.
“Oh,” Allai finally responded. “But how… How is that possible? I mean, you’re a Demon. You’re not supposed to have powers like that.”
Drake closed his eyes. He didn’t want the girl to see the disgust in his expression. Because she was right: He wasn’t supposed to have Mage powers. Thanks to Dad, he was nothing but a genetics experiment. A freak of nature.
“My dad figured out a way to breed Mage genes into Demon bloodlines,” Drake said quietly. “My mom was a Sano Mage. And my dad, well, you know. He’s a Demon. I was the first Demon-Mage hybrid born in centuries.”
And he’d been perfect. Drake still had faint memories from when he was three or four, when Dad had gloated over his very existence. But then he’d gotten older. He’d started to develop a personality, and it’d been clear that he’d taken after his mom, instead of Dad. He didn’t want to fight, or kill, or win. Drake wanted the very last thing Dad desired: He wanted everything to be peaceful.
Suddenly, Drake was nothing but a disappointment. And Dad never let him forget that.
Drake took a deep breath before continuing. “Dad thinks my powers are useless, which is probably why he’s let me get away from him. But I’ve lied to him about my abilities. I don’t just transfer memories. I can take them, or erase them, or even implant new ones.”
The words felt strange on his tongue. He’d never said them out-loud. Even the Chimeras thought he had the relatively-useless ability of transferring memories from one person to another. Ever since he was eleven, when he’d discovered the extent of his abilities, he’d kept them hidden. Because what if Dad found out? Even now, eight years after figuring out his powers, that thought made his heart pound wildly.
Allai nodded
slowly, still taking in his words. “Okay.”
Her reaction wasn’t normal. Drake wasn’t one for conversations, or for the complex emotions that they always seemed to be rooted in. Or girls. He didn’t understand girls, either. But, even with his limited experience, he knew something was off.
He tried again. “Do you get what I’m saying, little Nox? I’m more powerful than the average Sano Mage. Probably more powerful than any other Sano. I can take peoples’ memories away, or give them false ones, or screw with their memories however I want. Like, when I escaped from my cell in the dungeon. I messed with that guards mind and made him forget to lock the door.”
That ought to do it. She just needed to hear it more directly. As soon as it soaked in, she’d realize how powerful he truly was—a black-blooded Demon, and a dangerous Sano Mage—and she’d freak out.
Allai looked up at him. There was a little fear in her expression, but relief overshadowed it. Why was that relief there? It was the last emotion she should feel.
“You’re that powerful?” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder and flicked her gaze away from his. “That way, if I get out of control again, you can destroy my mind before I hurt anyone.”
He snarled. It took him a few moments to get his voice back under control and say, “You know I’d never do that.”
“Promise me,” she murmured. Allai looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “You know it’s the right thing to do, Drake. No one should have to die just because I can’t control myself. If I lose it like that again, you have to erase my mind before I do any damage. Promise me. Please.”
He could never do that. He would never do that. How could he survive if he knew that Allai didn’t remember him, if she didn’t even know who he was? He wasn’t about to make her forget everything right when he’d gotten everything straightened out with her.
Drake started to shake his head, but then saw her expression. It was so sincere. He’d never seen her look like that before; completely serious, without that overly trusting and hopeful look she usually had.
He nodded. “Yeah, little Nox. I promise.”
She smiled, the expression less hesitant this time, and she pressed herself closer. Drake rested his cheek on top of her head and sighed. He hoped she didn’t hear the guilty tone in the sigh. And he hoped she didn’t know how terrible he was at keeping promises.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Drake slammed on the brakes. “Jackass,” he muttered at the car that had just cut him off. He could crush that car, if he wanted to. It was just one of those tiny hybrid things.
But he wouldn’t crush it. Because he liked his truck’s paintjob the way it was, and because he didn’t want to wake the girl. Every time he slammed the brakes, he kept glancing at her, waiting for her to stir. But she was fast asleep beside him and completely oblivious to the traffic jam they were stuck in.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, and tried to focus on the steady pattering sound it made. That sound was steady, almost soothing. Everything else around him was hectic: The honking of horns, the squealing of brakes, the thudding of Allai’s heartbeat. He didn’t like how slow her heart was beating; he didn’t remember it beating so slowly when she slept.
Drake punched at the radio’s power button. It switched on and spat out some garbled static. He turned the volume down, and then tuned it to the first music station he could find. A rock station.
Damn, he hated rock music. It was what Dad had always listened to. He’d said it was ‘soothing’. Drake remembered thinking once that Dad must be crazy if he found blaring guitars and crashing drums ‘soothing’. It was only a little while after that Drake realized how completely accurate his assumption had been.
Drake quickly changed the station, tuning the radio until the speakers started playing classical music. Much better. He still wasn’t sure if he actually liked classical music, or if he just liked listening to the exact opposite of Dad’s music.
“What the hell is that noise?”
It was the girl’s voice. She was mumbling into the seat, making her words all muffled and cute-sounding.
“It’s music,” Drake replied. He inched the truck forward a few feet and continued drumming his fingers against the wheel.
Allai looked up and yawned. She had red lines running across her face from the corduroy fabric of the seat. “That’s not music,” she grumbled. “That’s… torture.”
He smirked. “It’s classical. Everyone is supposed to appreciate classical.”
“There’s something wrong with you.” Her lip lifted into the tiniest of smiles, and he knew she was teasing him. “With your books, and your boring job, and you ‘appreciating’ music. It’s just wrong.”
He opened his mouth to retort. But the words fell away as Allai slid closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. Her skin was cooler than his, but somehow it managed to make him feel warm all over. Allai let out a tiny sigh.
What did that sigh mean? His stomach did a flip. Was she upset? He bit at his lip, wondering what he should do if she was upset.
Or maybe the sigh meant she was content. That’d be good. Wouldn’t it?
“Relax,” Allai murmured. “You’re always so tense.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just not used to… you know. Contact.”
That was a lie. The truth was, he was totally accustomed to contact. And to dodging it, and running from it, and to curling up in a ball and holding back tears when he didn’t run fast enough. Because contact always came with pain.
Except for when the contact came from the girl. Her touch was always so gentle, like she knew about all those punches and kicks he’d endured, and like she was trying to make up for them.
Allai didn’t respond. For a moment, he thought he might have said something wrong. But then he felt the girl go limp.
He tore his gaze off the road and looked down. Allai was staring out the window, but her gaze was blank, and her head had lolled to the side. He listened for her heartbeat; it was there, but slow and faint.
“Come on, little Nox.” He let go of the steering wheel and shook Allai’s shoulders. “Wake up. Wake up!”
She groaned. Drake shook her a little harder, and she blinked a couple times. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on him.
“Did I…” She trailed off and frowned.
“You fainted again.” He tried to keep his voice from sounding panicked. He couldn’t panic, not in front of her. But this just wasn’t normal; it was the third time he’d seen her faint in a matter of days.
Horns started honking around him. Drake looked ahead, and realized the traffic jam was opening up. He took a deep breath and eased the truck forward.
“Open the window,” Allai said. She tore away from him and moved over to the passenger side of the truck.
“What?”
“Just open the window.” She leaned her forehead against the glass, like it might get the message across better.
Drake pressed the button on the dashboard, and the passenger window rolled down. Allai leaned her head out and gagged a couple times. Drake looked away, giving her at least a little privacy while she threw up.
His own stomach twisted as he listened to her coughs and gags. It struck him that she hadn’t eaten since early yesterday. Could that be the reason she was fainting and throwing up? He muttered a curse under his breath. He should have made sure she ate more; he should have taken better care of her.
Allai drew her head back in and curled into a fetal position.
“You okay, little Nox?” Drake asked quietly.
She responded with a tiny whimper. That sound drove little shards of ice into Drake’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His hand balled into a fist, and he looked around for something to punch. Because he’d failed. Allai was miserable and in pain, but he still couldn’t seem to do anything right.
Allai star
ted shaking, and Drake forced himself to breathe again. He had to at least try to do something. “Just hang on, little Nox. Okay?”
She didn’t give a reply, and it wasn’t like Drake had really been expecting one. But that didn’t stop panic from hammering through his veins. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pre-paid cell phone.
Tanner picked up after the third ring. “Martin’s residen—”
“It’s me, Tanner,” Drake snapped.
“Drake. Are you alright? Why did you hang up on me yesterday?”
“I’ll explain that later.” Drake took a deep breath. “Look, the girl is sick, and I need some answers.”
“Caedes Mages don’t get sick, Drake. They have natural immunity to diseases.”
“Trust me, Tanner, she’s sick.” Drake took a moment to flip off some guy in a sportscar who’d tried to cut him off. The guy honked back, and Drake growled under his breath. “She’s shaking, and she just threw up.”
“Does she have a fever?” Tanner asked.
Drake set the phone down and reached over to the girl. He pressed his palm against her forehead. It was cool. No, not cool. Her skin was cold, as if she’d been dunked in ice water. He held his breath and listened for her heartbeat. Her pulse was steady, although he could barely hear it over his own pounding heart.
He fumbled for the phone and said, “She definitely doesn’t have a fever. Her skin is cold. Tanner, what’s going on?”
There was a pause. “Drake,” Tanner finally asked, “has she been fainting lately?”
He swallowed hard. The sportscar tried to cut him off again, and this time Drake let him. He didn’t even bother flipping the guy off. “Yeah.” Drake tried to keep his tone even, but he failed miserably. “Yeah. She’s been fainting.”
Tanner sighed, and Drake could hear the defeat in his tone. He almost slammed the phone down right then. Because he didn’t want to hear what Tanner was about to say. He didn’t want to hear that there was something wrong with the girl.
Frost Fire (Tortured Elements) Page 17