by Casey Hays
“Yes,” he nods. “You’ve really done your homework.”
“Of course, I have.” She squints at him. “How did you make Jude’s skin glow? Is this a compelling action? Can you do that with anybody? And what about—”
Before he can begin to answer, her gaze lands on the bar still decorated with my brother’s pictures, and all of her questions come to an abrupt halt. Confusion crosses her face; I wince. She steps forward, lifts one of the pictures, and part two of our revelation begins.
“What’s all this?” Hurt flashes across her face. “Have you been researching without me? Is this why you’ve kept Kane a secret?”
“No, Frankie.” The countertop tiles beneath my flattened hands suddenly feel cold as ice. “It’s not like that at all.”
“But this is him.” She studies a picture, picks up another one. “This is Nancy Babbitt’s patient.”
“I know,” I nod.
“Where did you get these pictures?” She displays one in each hand, a notable irritation rising with her words.
Kane clutches the back of his neck, tossing his eyes to the ceiling. It’s safe to say our day has gone from bad to worse. Why are we so damn careless lately?
“Why didn’t you tell me you had these pictures, Jude?” She’s losing patience with me, which only makes her fly-away hair look that much more out of control.
“Because I didn’t have them,” I defend. “Until… today.”
“Where did they come from?”
I round the bar and slide onto the stool next to Kane. “Sit down, Frankie.”
It takes her a minute to comply, but finally, she climbs up onto the barstool. On a sigh, I scoop up one of Jarron’s pictures and study it for several long seconds. He’s about twelve in this one, and he badly needs a haircut. His dark locks are shaggy and out of shape, but he looks happy—almost but not quite smiling. It brings a smile to my own lips. This is my brother. It could even be my dad behind the camera taking this picture.
Frankie slaps the photos onto the bar and squares with me, arms crossed. “Well?”
I hook my heels over the lowest rung of the stool, gearing up for the grand disclosure. This should be easy; it’s not. And not because Frankie won’t believe me. She will. In four days, I’ve learned more secrets about my boring life than I ever thought possible. But it’s a hard thing to tell something about yourself before you’ve really begun to grasp it.
“Okay, so just know that there’s been a lot going on… some things I probably should have mentioned. But what I’m about to tell you is brand new information.” I steal a glance at Kane before continuing. “It’s… all very touchy.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Her eyes narrow through her lenses. “And how many times must I express my loyalty before you believe it?”
“Right.” With a nod, I drop the picture. The heat of Kane’s hand suddenly presses into the small of my back, flooding me with a sense of calm. “Okay, so I received some information about this boy, and I decided to look into it. It was good info, and... it led me to a safe deposit box belonging to my mom. Kane and I went there this morning and opened it. These pictures were inside.”
Dead silence follows this. Even the ticking of Mom’s large den clock is a whisper. Frankie spins the stool, tucking her knees up under the bar, and shuffles through the pictures.
“I don’t understand.” Her head swivels my way, confusion crinkling her brows. “Why would your mother have pictures of this boy?”
“I would have wondered the same thing myself if we hadn’t found this.”
I take a final, deep breath and slide Jarron’s birth certificate out of the manila envelope. For a second, I just hold it. It’s so surreal. I mean, I’m still digesting the news. But… friends share each other’s burdens and keep each other’s secrets. So…
I set it in front of her. She goes rigid, her eyes pinned on the document.
“I’m not understanding.”
“You will in a minute,” I offer. I find the picture of my dad holding his son and give it to her. “This Fireblood was born in Costa Rica twenty years ago on March 15. He was admitted to Willow Springs at age two, and eventually, your dad became his doctor.”
She shoves at the center of her glasses as the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. “You’re telling me that this boy…” She points at a couple of the pictures in front of her. “… is the same boy whose name is on this birth certificate?” She faces me. “This is what you’re telling me, right?”
“It’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Then that means…”
She stops talking and just looks at me. And now, that ticking clock is so loud. Behind me, Kane chuckles, then leans in and whispers loud enough for Frankie to hear it too.
“It’s not easy to throw Frankie off her game. Looks like you just did.”
Frankie’s on her feet so fast that the barstool tips dangerously up on two legs, rocks for a second, and would have toppled right over if I hadn’t had the sense to react. I catch it by the seat and upright it, but Frankie doesn’t notice. She walks away from us and straight into the guest bath, slamming the door. I glance at Kane.
Chin propped in his palm, he looks amused. And when he winks, I relax a little.
“Maybe she had to pee really bad?” I suggest.
He laughs, and rises to lean against the railing, crossing his ankles. “Let’s just give her a minute.”
I nod, and make my way to the pantry, emerging with a bag of chips. Nervous eating seems appropriate. I pace. I crunch down on a chip. I offer Kane the bag; he scoops out a handful. And when a minute turns into ten, I tentatively knock on the bathroom door.
“Frankie? You all right in there?”
A pause, and then a click. She eases the door open and stares at me.
“I needed to be alone. To think.”
“Okay,” I nod. The bag of chips rustles loudly as I roll it closed.
“You are a Fireblood.” She stands just inside the bathroom door making her profound announcement.
I smile with a wave of my fingers. “Surprise?”
She doesn’t return the smile. She’s all seriousness, studying my face, scouring the rest of me with a fascinated gleam in her eye. She’s assessing, calculating, accumulating information in observant Frankie style.
“This… is unbelievable.” She reaches a hesitant hand toward me, pulls back, and clenches her fingers into a tight ball. “I just spent the last ten minutes looking at every picture of you in my phone’s gallery. You look so… human.”
“I am human, Frankie,” I laugh. “Human with a touch of magic. And so is Kane.” I wave a hand in his direction. “He’s just got a little bit more magic than I do. I’m only half.”
Her eyes swing from me to Kane. He flashes her an eyeful of golden fire. She shakes her head in disbelief and connects with me.
“Who’s the Fireblood?
“My dad was,” I nod. “Mom is as human as they come.”
“So the project?” Her eyes falter, a clear hurt ebbing in. “I’ve been trying to convince you of something you clearly already believed in?”
“Not true.” I correct. “I found out about Kane right after our camping trip. And I’ve only known about myself since Saturday.” I crinkle my brows as the next thought hits. “I haven’t even told Mom that I know yet.”
“You didn’t know?” She offers a dubious frown. “How could you not know something like this?”
“You’d be amazed at the lengths my parents went to in order to keep the truth hidden. From the world and from me.” I shrug. “Plus, I might chock it up to being dense on my part. I mean, looking back, I remember a few odd things now. But nothing that would make me think I was only half human.”
“So… when I saw you glowing just now? Kane wasn’t making it happen?”
“Nope. All me.”
She steps out of the bathroom, clutching my hand and tossing Kane a solid grin.
“About
the project, Frankie.” I brace myself for her reaction to my words. “I know you wanted to, but we can’t display those pictures of my brother.”
“I know,” she confirms. “Why do you think I was in your bathroom for so long? We have a lot to discuss.”
With a sigh, I crush the bag of chips against my chest. Yes we do.
Fifteen
We spend the rest of the afternoon answering Frankie’s questions. We focus on ourselves, electing to keep any other Firebloods’ names out of the conversation, other than Kane’s parents, of course. And my dad. They’re kind of a given.
“Kane makes you look human.”
It’s not a question; it’s a matter-of-fact statement, and the tone of Frankie’s voice makes me laugh.
“He compels something to camouflage me. Usually my ring, but this was a quick fix.” I unhook my necklace and drop it on the coffee table. It falls in a heap, the chain piling up on top of it. “And when I’m not wearing something compelled…”
Instead of finishing my thought, I trail off and gesture a hand toward Kane in a magician’s assistant sort of way. He settles into the sofa and gives me what I’m asking for.
My skin brightens with slow ease, and Frankie drops her mouth open in complete awe. She steps in, curiosity defining every muscle in her face, and runs her fingers over my glowing forearm. It’s not a full decamouflage, so my fainter orange markings don’t appear. But my eyes burn low, and I feel the heat rumbling in my blood.
“You look… just like your brother,” she whispers.
It’s such a relief to come clean with Frankie, and I literally exhale into the moment. I capture the distant sound of my mantra, and a joy floods in on me. I focus, tugging until my song sweeps to the front of my mind and becomes a solid presence. I could push my camouflage off then—without any more help from Kane. I decide that might be a bit much for Frankie’s first time, so I keep a handle on it.
“I don’t even know what to say.” Frankie moves in to examine the embers flickering over the surface of my irises. “Jude Gallagher, you are a Fireblood.”
“Pretty crazy, huh?”
She pinches my chin. “Open your mouth.”
I’m a little surprised by her request, but I do it anyway. Come to think of it, I have no idea what it looks like in there. Maybe she’ll see flames dancing in the back of my throat. She pokes at a tooth.
“Incredible. Even your teeth glow.”
“That could be my whitening toothpaste,” I tease.
“Very funny.”
She spends a good half hour examining me up close and personal before turning her full-fledged attention on Kane. I’m pretty much forgotten when he drops his own camouflage and even gives her a treat by revealing his wings. Awestruck still, she smooths her hands over his feathers.
“How fast can you fly?” she asks.
“Pretty fast,” he shrugs.
“And high,” I add.
“You’ve flown with him?” She clips her head my way long enough to ask her question.
“Yep.” I settle onto the sectional tucking my legs up under me, lifting my hand to admire the light of my skin. It buzzes over me like a warm, fuzzy blanket. “And it’s as awesome as it sounds.”
Kane flashes me a wink, and I have to giggle at the permanent daze plastered to Frankie’s face as she stares at his wings, transfixed. The arch of each one stands at least a foot and half above his shoulders like two giant bodyguards on full display. He spreads his wings wide, nearly across the whole expanse of the den, flexing and preening. The rainbow iridescence glistens through the black, silky sheen in the light streaming through the sunroof. He is spectacular, and I grow warm inside, and not because of my own heat either. This time, I owe it all to my heart.
When he flexes a bicep muscle to go along with them, I get the clear impression he’s enjoying this self-revelation a little too much. But one look at his calm and completely stress-free face makes me understand why. Until today, Kane has never exposed his true form to a human—not once—except with me, and honestly, I only half count. I’ve felt his burden a few times now, always trying to balance his carefree nature and his caution. Today with Frankie, he feels safe. Relaxed. And so he lets go and embraces the freedom and the small relief it brings. For a little while, camouflage is the last thought in his head. He’s completely unbound. It’s nice to see it.
“The fact that you are capable of hiding all of this…” Frankie clutches his hand in her grip, examining his fingers. “Is honestly mind-boggling. How does it work? Do you think it into reality? ”
“Not really. It’s more like…” He thinks a minute. “Like willpower. An energetic pulse.”
“I see.” She flips his hand over, smoothing a thumb across the veiny orange surface. “So you feel it.”
“Yeah.”
The hand she holds suddenly fades to bronze. When she looks up, he smiles, and one wing, and then the other vanishes. In the next blink of an eye, he emerges again, all fire and beauty, and Frankie bubbles with excitement. All the research we’ve done over the past couple of weeks is nothing compared to the magic manifesting right here in my den, and Frankie is mesmerized. Even I’m in awe. Because my boyfriend is amazing—inside and out.
“I am speechless,” Frankie whispers for at least the fifteenth time.
“Aw Frankie…” Kane lugs her into his chest, enclosing his wings around them. “Let’s hug it out.”
Her arms lace around his waist and clamp tight. “This is literally my favorite day.”
“Okay.” I scoop up my necklace and head for the steps. “That’s enough showing off for today.”
In the kitchen, I bury myself once again into the folds of my humanity, the ruby comfortably glinting off my middle finger. Kane slips beneath his own camouflage, turning into that boy Frankie’s always known. She falls into the nearest recliner, clearly spent by the experience.
“As much as I believe in supernatural beings, I never thought I’d be lucky enough to see one with my naked eye. The fact that those beings happen to be my friends? That’s icing on the cake.”
Those words warm me up all over again. I grab a soda, and I float back into the den with that relief still tickling my insides. One burden lifted. And then… Frankie hits us with a whammy of her own.
“We can’t present this project.”
Kane straightens. The fizzy pop of my soda can rings loud, and I freeze.
“What?”
“Firebloods exist. You exist.” She throws despondent hands into the air and comes to her feet. “How can I, in good conscience, continue with a project knowing that two of my friends belong to the Vatra u Krvi race?”
“Well…” I begin.
“That was a rhetorical question, Jude.”
“Oh,” I half-laugh. “Right.”
“I won’t do it. I will not risk exposing you for a scholarship.” Her features flood with regret, and she slumps a little. “I’m sorry, Jude. I should have listened to you from the beginning. We should have chosen a different topic.”
“No. We chose the exact right topic, Frankie.” I sit, planting my bare feet flat on the rug. “Look at what we discovered? We proved our hypothesis.”
“Please, Jude.” She sits tall, a frown gracing her lips. “Next you’ll be quoting: ‘It’s not about the destination but the journey.’”
“That’s exactly what I was about to say,” I quip, adding an extra tease to my voice. “We’d better add mind-reading to your resume.”
The harsh glare I receive through her lenses—her version of an eye roll—shuts me up. Kane chuckles, slinking down low in his seat to enjoy our banter.
“I feel like I’ve just finished reading a good book that I never wanted to end,” Frankie sighs.
I feel bad. In all honesty, I was pretty lax about the project, but Frankie put her blood and sweat and lots and lots of time into this thing, and it seems so wrong to end it. And we wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren’t for this project. I under
stand perfectly the domino effect it created—which is what prompts the next set of words that come tumbling out of my mouth.
“So we can’t submit the project.” I squeeze the soda can a little tighter. “That doesn’t mean we’re done with it.”
I peek at Kane when I say it, and he reads the plan in my eyes—a plan that began to take root as I stared at a blurry picture of a deformed Fireblood trapped by the very thing that should set him free. Kane rubs an anxious hand down the side of his face, but he says nothing. Because he knows. My brother? He became my project the minute I saw that envelope labeled with his name.
And the exasperated frown Frankie hands me is exactly what I expected. I’m ready for it.
“In what universe would I continue work on a project I can’t submit?” Her voice is snippy with agitation. “That is a complete waste of perfectly good energy.”
And that’s when I nail her with the good stuff.
“We still have one more interview to conduct, you know.”
At my words, Frankie shifts in her seat, curiosity returning. “I’m listening.”
“Well… I haven’t met my brother, and I sure would like to.”
Her utter silence is classic, but I recognize the sudden light in her eyes. “You found him?”
“Yep.” I press my hands together as the reality of my plan takes fruition. “But you discovered him first, and I know for a dead fact that if you hadn’t dragged me into this crazy project, I never would have learned anything about myself. My mom certainly wasn’t talking.” I fidget with my ring, a little disgruntled before I grow soft. “I owe you, Frankie. Because I love who I am.”
Her shoulders visibly sink, and I think I actually see a tear in the reflection of her glasses. A tear. Frankie never, ever cries.
The clock ticks; the warmth of Kane’s hand presses into my thigh; Frankie says nothing, and I feel obligated to fill the silent space with words.
“So… what do you think about finishing what we started?”
“Are you saying… we’re going to meet him?”
“Yep,” I smile.
“I would like nothing more.” She inhales, her suddenly bright eyes falling over Kane. “You are fascinating, Kane. Don’t think I’m any less mesmerized by you. But this boy... Jarron…” She says his name with overwhelming tenderness. “He was the first tangible proof I uncovered.”