Vane

by Teshelle Combs

  Cameron made sure his breathing was even, steady. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blush or look away. He was cold as stone, his tone flat and uncaring. “I’m sure you’ll recover.”

  Myra gave a bitter laugh, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I bet I will. I’m pretty used to being alone.”

  Cameron cleared his throat, looking away from her as she headed for the door, addressing the rest of the room. “I know you’ve traveled quite a while to reach me, but I really do have to get back to work. I’ll have my Gregory and Ewan package your food for your travels.”

  “Wait,” Cale said, approaching his brother. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing here, Cam?”

  “Yes.” He said it firmly, so Cale knew he meant it. “I’ve helped you as much as I can.”

  Cale scratched the back of his head. “Any advice on how to stop the grey dragons? Besides killing them?”

  “It can’t be done.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Then why are you asking me? You’re wasting my time.”

  “Because we have to stop them, Cam. They’re killing good people to stay in power. They’re already out of control. And if they find the pearl….”

  “It can’t be done, Cale.”

  Ava tugged on her dragon’s arm. “Cale, come on. Let’s just go.”

  “My interns will show you out.” And Cameron turned his back on them, wiping his white board clean.

  They left, their fish packed into containers, and their hopes packed six feet under the earth.

  Fourteen

  Order

  Maurice poured another serving into Cale’s wooden mug, letting the froth bubble over the rim and onto the dirt floor. They sat cross-legged on the dirt floor of Emaline’s hut, trying to be quiet so the hundreds of displaced red dragons didn’t know they were in town. A flickering candle between them was the only light allowed.

  Shiloh had refused to come into the town, saying that he would rather not accidentally run into Juliette’s parents. And Myra was content to sulk beside him, picking leaves off unsuspecting bushes and slowly tearing them to pieces in her black-nailed fingers.

  Emaline was stoic, her handsome brows furrowed as she stared into the light. They were all quiet, all thinking. Until Emaline began.

  “Our ancestors said that fire helps to collect scattered thoughts and steady wandering hearts.”

  Ava understood, but there was something different when she looked into the fire. Where Cale and other red dragons saw a force that pulled them in and kept them grounded, Ava saw a wild, perfect freedom.

  Cale closed his eyes, his next words weighing on him. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do, Emaline?”

  “There is no wiser option. We are being buried under the strain of these siren attacks. And if what you say about the judgment of the greys is true, they will refuse to desist. As chief, I must act.”

  “No,” Jethro said. He sat in the circle, alongside Maurice and his mother. He was often out among the younger ones, teaching them how to fight, how to become proper red dragons. But that night, all three council members had to be present. Such a decision had never been made before. “Maybe we can reason with them. We should at least try,” he said.

  Ava, her legs crossed, shook her head. “They won’t listen, Jethro. I know them. They won’t listen.”

  Jethro’s dark skin almost melded with the shadows. “This is war we’re talking about, rothai. We should spark something like this if there is any way we can avoid it.”

  “We aren’t the ones sparking it,” Ava argued. “They’ve been killing dragons like you—good dragons—for years. Over a hundred years. We have to do something.”

  Cale touched Ava’s knee and spoke in the same hushed tones the rest did. “Ava, he’s right. So many dragons could die. We could die.”

  Emaline held up her hand and they all fell silent. “Let’s hear from Maurice. He’s the oldest and wisest of us.”

  Maurice sighed. “I am not the wisest, but I will speak my mind if that’s what you want, Emaline.”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  His small face lit up in strange angles, his brown eyes flickering in the candlelight. “We have a responsibility to protect our people and to protect the humans. So I believe we should avoid war if we can. We petition them, one more time. If they do not change their ways….”

  Cale inhaled. “War.”

  “War,” Maurice echoed.

  Emaline groaned. “Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that. I will prepare to go at once. Jethro, I leave you in charge of the Nest. Maurice—”

  “I will go with you, Emaline.”

  “No, you stay with Jethro. Help him as you would help me. I will return shortly.”

  Maurice locked eyes with Emaline over the flame. “I will go with you.”

  “You will stay. I’ll take the black dragon and rider who accompany Cale and Ava.” She turned to the two of them. “Since he has become your companion, may I assume you trust him?”

  Ava hesitated because she knew Cale’s answer was ‘no.’ “I do. I trust him completely. Cale…does not.”

  Cale swallowed. He hated what he was about to say. “I—I just can’t trust someone who hurt my rider. But I will say this…Shiloh only does what he thinks is right. And if he promises to take you and keep you safe, Emaline he will give his life to keep his word.”

  Emaline nodded. “It’s settled then.”

  But Jethro stood up when Emaline did. “I agree with Maurice. One of us should go with you.”

  “I’ve already spoken my mind,” she said, moving towards the door.

  But Jethro reached out and grabbed her hand. “Mother,” he said, holding on to her. “Let me go instead. Please.”

  And for once, as Emaline held her son’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead, he wasn’t a councilman, he wasn’t a soldier. “Good boy,” she said in red tongue, “but I’ve given my orders. And I expect them to be carried out.”

  Emaline looked to Cale and Ava. “The two of you should go home. Be with your family. The next time we meet, it may be under great duress. Rest, and make your peace.”

  The pang in Cale’s chest almost overwhelmed him. His nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists. Make my peace with who? “I’d rather stay here in Great Nest until you return, Emaline, if that’s okay.” With people who want me.

  “It is not ‘okay.’” Her gaze was pointed. “Go home. Make your peace with your family. That is not a suggestion, Anderson.”

  Cale could hardly move, his muscles locking him in place where he stood. Ava stared, not knowing what to do to make the order bearable for him. He would have to go to the people who had hurt him and offer an olive branch. He would have to be the bigger man. And he would be the one who got hurt. Again.

  “Cale, you don’t have to do it. I mean, it’s just…you don’t have to, Cale.”

  He tried to smile at Ava, but it came out hard and far away. “Ava, if Emaline says I have to, I’ll do it.”

  For the first time, Ava was glad she didn’t have anyone to order her around. For the first time, she was glad she wasn’t tied to people who were tied to others. For the first time, Ava was glad she was a phoenix.

  Cale sat in the cab of Rory’s old pickup truck, his hands on his knees, his lips pressed together. Ava didn’t know what to say to him. It had been his idea to go to the Cave, his idea to confront what was very likely the most horrifying thing that had ever happened to him. It was Cale who wanted to follow Emaline’s orders, not Ava. Ava just wanted him to be okay, to be happy.

  She knew she was supposed to find words. She was supposed to open her mouth and let wisdom and comfort flow to him. Or maybe I can put my hand on his arm…or sing a song…or…how can I be so bad at this?

  “Give us a minute, would you?” Rory asked, breaking up her thoughts.

  Ava shot a look of gratitude to Rory and scrambled over Cale to get out. She gave him an awkward pat on the leg to show him she wa
sn’t entirely heartless, and closed the door, glad to be off the hook.

  Rory let time pass. It wasn’t like him to sit and think. In fact, Cale was sure he’d never seen his brother do anything without jumping into it full throttle. It made him miss Cameron, made him reminisce on the slow, steady weight of thinking instead of talking.

  Rory finally started. He fiddled with the steering wheel as he spoke. “I should have been there,” he said.

  Cale took a deep breath, about to argue, but Rory held his hand up. “Don’t. Don’t say it wasn’t my fault.” He crossed burly arms. “And don’t you go on and feel guilty that I’m upset. Don’t do it. I mean it, Cale.”

  Cale closed his mouth. He had no idea what to say next.

  Rory gripped the hard plastic of the wheel. “I should have been there when you needed somebody to stand up to Dad. I should have been there when you flew to Great Nest, when you were taken to the grey court. I should have been there when our…our friends…hurt you. And I should have gone with you to get Cam.” Rory stopped to swallow. “I can’t change that. None of us can change what’s already been done. But…I can be a big brother for you now. I can be better now. If you’ll let me—”

  “Rory….” Cale angled toward his brother. He could see how genuine he was, how regret filled his brown eyes. “Rory, I see that you’re sorry. And I hope you know I care about you. But I don’t need a big brother. Not anymore. I….” He tried not to be swayed by the hurt his brother emitted. “For the rest of my life, I’ll only trust one person. I’d like for you to accept that.”

  Rory nodded, cleared his throat again. “Tell me what you need from me, then. If I can’t make things right, maybe I can help you…somehow.”

  “Fight with me. Come with me. Stay with me as long as you’d like. Be my friend, Rory. Be my ally.”

  “But not your brother.”

  “No,” Cale sighed. “Not my brother.”

  Rory nodded. “If that’s what you want, Cale, I can do that.”

  “Good.”

  They sat for another minute.

  “I’m actually terrified to go in there,” Cale confessed, his throat tightening as he spoke.

  “No one’s going to touch you, Cale. I’ll be right there.”

  Cale glanced at him. How do I tell him that doesn’t make me feel any better? He ended up nodding.

  Rory and Ava lead the way into the old abandoned bar, the broken glass crunching beneath the soles of their shoes. They were careful not to touch the territorial blood markings that covered the railing in the dark, narrow stairway, though the red lights made the world seem uneven and dizzy. The music buzzed through them, the bass so loud it punched Cale in the gut with every note.

  Ava waited for him at the bottom of the stairs, her stern features relaxing as she caught sight of him. He put an arm over her shoulders, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead. He tried not to second guess the action. It was natural. But it was getting easier and easier to be open with her, to reach for her when he wanted to touch her, to kiss her when his lips needed to meet hers. They’d slip up, and everyone would know. It was only a matter of time.

  “You okay?” she whispered to him as they waited in line for Mark to wave people through to the dance floor. “That took a while.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. He tried to ignore the racing of his heart as they inched toward the heavy single door that separated the stairwell form the club. Is the air thinning or something? I can’t breathe.

  “We can go home, Cale. Or go for a fly? Emaline doesn’t have to know.”

  It was tempting. God, it was so tempting. Ava on his back and the wind and the clouds. He loved flying at night, when the sun was asleep. The moon was cool and mysterious, the whole world with their eyes closed except for him, his sarai, and the stars.

  “No,” he said, swallowing. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. If I can face them, I can fight the greys.”

  Ava pulled away from him so she could look into his face. Her amber red and jade green eyes were firm, unflinching. He was thankful, even with the gold that often riddled her skin, that her eyes never changed.

  “Cale, I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I hope you know that. I’ll kill them all if they so much as blink at you funny.”

  He smiled at her, felt his core kindle. “I know. You’re a good friend.”

  “No.” She touched his hand, an intentional gesture for her, but one meant to make him know she was serious. How to make him understand. How to find the words. It was deeper than friendship. Deeper than anything else she’d ever known. “We….” And nothing else would come out. Her words froze on her tongue.

  The line was clearing through. Cale clenched his fists shut as he filtered in with everyone else, Ava right in front of him. Myra skipped stairs as she hurried down to meet them, looking stunning and offsetting in her black leather and her six-inch spiked boots.

  “Myra, what are you doing here?” Cale asked. “Shouldn’t you be home—” Sulking? Crying? Trying not to write to Cameron?

  “I’m where I’m supposed to be,” she said, her red lips in a tight line. “Thank you for your concern.”

  “Yeah, but this could be dangerous.”

  “Exactly. I can’t just sit at home and let life happen to me.”

  Cale nodded, surprised that her presence eased him. He and Myra had never been that close, even though he had been great friends with her twin. She’d always been quiet, closed off, preferring to stand in dark corners and walk home alone. But he had the feeling Myra didn’t mess around. Her mind didn’t change easily. If she wanted to be there for him, she’d be there.

  Yet, Cale knew she’d never compare to his rider. She stood there, lost in thought, her arms crossed, the scar that spiraled her right arm the only part of her that wasn’t alight.

  “Hey,” he said. He moved closer to her, wrapped his arm around her back and whispered down into her ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “You did good just now, before Myra got here. Said the right thing.”

  Her forehead creased as she frowned. “Cale, I literally didn’t say anything. No words came out. How was that helpful?”

  But he just laughed as he pushed open the door. It won’t be so bad. He was supposed to make his peace. That’s what Emaline had told him. Peace is good, right?

  But it hit him hard. The place was so familiar—the ear splitting fusion music, the hollering of people he once called friends as they collided with each other in dance, the pungency of too many dragon drinks in one place, the buzz that meant someone—everyone—was itching for a fight to break out.

  He’d spent so many nights in the Cave. He’d given these people so much of his trust. And they’d turned on him. Even the walls seemed darker, more menacing as the red strobe lights bounced off the black paint.

  Mark, his tattoos covering nearly every inch of him, his piercings too many to count, stared at them, the same way he did on the very first night Cale tried to take Ava in. As if they were crazy for even trying.

  But this time, Ava walked up to him, her eyes cutting him down, daring him, daring him to say something to them. Mark’s mouth stayed clamped shut. He backed away, his gaze skirting to the ground.

  Ava and Cale walked in, following the path Rory and Myra had cut for them through the crowd and to the bar.

  Myra tapped on the counter, handed Cale the drink the bartender passed his way. It was Reggie behind who served them, her short, curvy frame barely visible over the height of the chipped wood. She growled at Cale, and then disappeared in the back. Probably going to tell Victor I’m here.

  The music still played, even though every dragon stopped to look on. It was out of place—the dizzying thump, the strobe lights flashing, but no one was moving along with them. Then, silence.

  Victor walked out of the back, and the door flapped against the wall as his muscular frame stepped through. He walked right up to Cale, and he and Ava both braced themselves. He’d want a fight. He�
��d want to finish what he started. Maybe they all did. Maybe every dragon in his herd, in the whole city, wanted Cale out of their lives.

  Victor uncrossed his arms and lowered his head in a nod of respect. “We owe our brother an apology.”

  Cale couldn’t keep his eyes from widening. What did he just say?

  “One of our leaders has made it clear to us that we weren’t in control of our own actions. It’s time we all knew what we were dealing with.”

  “What are you talking about, Victor?” Ava asked, her words sharp.

  He motioned to all the partiers. They stood, just as confused as Cale and Ava. Whatever he was about to say was news to them too.

  “How many of you have ever fought the Anders brothers here in this Cave? For sport? For fun?”

  Hands all over the club went into the air. Girls and boys alike. Even Myra raised her hand, and Mark. And of course, Victor and Manuel raised theirs as well.

  He continued. “How many of you, before the night of confusion, ever wanted to kill Cale Anders?”

  Every single hand went down.

  “Mark, you’ve never wanted to kill Cale?” Victor asked.

  Mark’s eyes widened. “Me? Of course not.”

  “And why not, Mark?”

  He shot a guilt-ridden look at Cale. “He’s my friend.”

  “So why did you attack on that night, Mark? Why try to hurt him? Why try to kill your friend?”

  Mark stammered. “I…I don’t know.”

  “No. You don’t know. None of you know why you did what you did. And I can tell you why. I can tell you why you were filled with hate for someone you’ve always loved.”

  Ava gasped. It all clicked into place. Hate. Inexplicable hate that came out of nowhere. Hate that consumed innocent dragons. Hate that wanted to snuff out the light. “That bastard.”

  Victor looked to her and nodded. “The balance is—”

  “Their balance itself is evil.” Ava said it softly first, then again, louder. “Their balance is evil. The grey dragons are liars. They only—”

  A rustle of disbelief, and a few red tongue outcries of things like ‘blasphemy,’ and ‘what did she just say?’