He turned sharply to face me, “Because we aren’t supposed to be together. We can’t be. It’s impossible. That shouldn’t have happened.”
He might as well have punched me. I looked down at my hands, feeling the tears of rejection forming as I furiously tried to contain them. I didn’t dare look up when Kieran said my name. I couldn’t make myself do it. I picked at my ragged nails, not realising how much my hands were shaking. For the first time in my life I actually felt something for someone and this happened? Why did it have to be this monster?
“Ruby, look at me,” Kieran ordered severely, but my disengaged mind didn’t respond.
“Ruby, look at me,” he repeated again and I couldn’t ignore the ferocity of his tone. He was closer than I thought, less than a step away. He stared with seeking eyes.
“You understand why we can’t, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, I just returned my gaze to my nails.
He reached forwards but I jerked back before he could touch me. I stared, unfocused, at the quilt, clutching my tears. I stood up, unable to bear the pain in my chest anymore. From the corner of my eye I saw him reach out again. Then he paused and let his arm fall limply to his side.
I walked unsteadily towards the door. Now my back was turned the tears finally fell. The soft click of the door was that loudest thing I had ever heard.
Back in my own room I buried myself in my sheets and cried silently until I was too exhausted to continue. I was an emotional wreck. Feelings I barely knew I had spilled out of me in waves of flooding tears. Was it because I felt dependent on Kieran ever since I left? Is it just that I’d latched onto him because I had no one else? Did I even like him really, underneath it? Either way Briseis had been right.
Chapter Seventeen
It was while I was getting dressed the next morning, when I glanced into the mirror that I realised that I was missing the long jagged scar that cut across my neck. It had completely vanished. What the hell?
Rushing, I quickly shoved on my jeans, and then raced back over to the mirror. The small scars on my forehead and palms had disappeared also. As I examined the rest of my body, I realised with shock that every little disfigurement that had ever flawed my skin had disappeared. Like nothing had even been there.
This must have been Kieran, somehow. What else it could possibly be?
Heading over to the bathroom, knowing already that he was the reason I wasn’t having a nice hot shower right now; I thumped heavily on the door.
“What, Ruby?” came the gruff response.
How did he know it was me? “I want to talk to you.”
“Everyone wants to talk to me,“ he grumbled irritably, “but it doesn’t mean everyone gets the pleasure,”.
I was not in the mood to be messed with. “Now, Kieran,” I ordered severely.
“Never, Ruby,” he answered, mimicking me.
I sighed angrily, “It’s important.”
“So is my morning routine, which in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not part of.” He snapped, but the door swung abruptly open.
I stumbled back, not thinking he would have given in so quickly. His dark hair was glistening with beads of water that dripped down his tanned shoulders. He must have literally just tumbled out of the shower. His expression was so hostile I cringed back automatically. “Go on then,” he said, green eyes flashing, “I don’t have all morning to listen to you complain.”
I was suddenly infuriated. “I have no scars.”
“Brilliant,” he said sarcastically.
My eyes narrowed, “I’m serious; they’re gone.”
“Well, that’s interesting.” Kieran mused thoughtfully, “Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll think it over while I finish my shower.”
“What did you do?” I scolded accusingly.
He glared at me ferociously. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You must have done something.” I glared right back. “Scars don’t magically disappear.” I raised my eyebrows sceptically, “Plus, you’re the healer.”
He whirled around to show me his naked back; the cinnamon skin stretched flawlessly across his shoulders; no longer bearing marks of substantial damage. No deep inflamed lacerations. No puckered scars. He turned again, meeting my angrily confused eyes.
“My back begs to differ,” he snapped. “It’s a shame. I like my scars; they show that I live in the arms of danger.”
“Or the arms of reckless idiocy,” I muttered.
“Better than wasting my life in fear and ignorance,” he retorted.
“How could this have happened?” I still sounded like I was accusing him.
He scowled again, “I don’t know.”
“I thought you knew everything,” I shot bitterly. God I hated him so much.
“I know it’s you not me,” he snarled. “I warned you that every time I heal you our bodies become more closely interlinked. It’s happened before. The more you heal one person and no other, the closer you get physically. Nobody can predict what will happen to us if we carry on, especially because we’re of different Tribes.” I stared at him blankly and he growled in frustration. “I’ve had enough of this conversation.”
He started to return to the bathroom, but I stomped after him. The shower was still running, steam wafted up in spiralling circles.
“I didn’t ask you to heal me, did I?” I demanded indignantly.
“I think this definitely counts as an invasion of my privacy,” he said lazily, looking at his hair in the mirror. Then he glared at me, “It’s not like I had a choice. I didn’t want to heal you. It’s you who doesn’t seem to understand the severity of it.”
“You’re the one who did it. You’re the one who told me to go into your room,” I retaliated.
“Because you were fussing over some guy who attacked you,” he pointed out, eyes returning to me like blazing emerald flame. “An overreaction if you ask me.”
“Overreaction,” I repeated, my voice consciously raising a few octaves.
He towered over me dominatingly, with that arrogant superior look.
“You’re always overreacting. I’m surprised you’re not bored of it by now.”
“I’m bored of arguing with you.”
“Go away then. I’m in a really bad mood and I know you’ll be very upset if I rain on your glorious little parade.” he spat sardonically.
“Why are you being such an asshole,” I snapped. “Sometimes I wish you’d just act like a normal human being.”
“But I’m not human,” Kieran smirked, leaning forward, “and let me tell you something you probably didn’t even realise when you were Changing into a massive red bird; neither are you.”
“We are human, or at least partly human.”
“Stop holding onto the past Ruby, nothing can change you back.” He smiled cruelly, knowing he was being harsh.
I was so angry. “I think you’re scared, scared of being human because then you would have to have an emotional capacity greater than a wet mop.”
“And that’s something you’re an expert on now, is it?” he raised his eyebrows, but his voice was infuriatingly composed.
I wanted to scream. I was about to say something else when I heard footsteps on the stairs. We both froze like a rabbit in headlights. I glanced at the stairs, panicked, hoping nobody had heard our…um, conversation.
“Get away from the door,” Kieran hissed sharply, pushing me out of the bathroom before slamming the door closed in my face.
Trying to be nonchalant as I walked towards my room, my legs felt stiff and awkward. I heard Ebony call from behind me, “Ruby, are you okay?”
I turned around, clutching my hands nervously, feeling like I’d just been caught doing something naughty; like being alone in the bathroom with a half-naked boy. “I’m fine,” I answered too brightly.
She looked suspicious, “I thought I heard yelling.”
“Not from me,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “Is it okay if I get some
breakfast?”
Instantaneously her expression softened, suspicion forgotten. “Oh, of course, chick, you’ve got a big day today anyway.”
I laughed, hearing how off it sounded. “Every day recently seems to be a big day.”
She frowned at me but then shook her head. “There’s bread and jam on the table. Just get what you want.”
I smiled awkwardly, shuffling off downstairs. I knew what Ebony had meant about the big day thing: it was my first training session with Jayson. Now that would be awkward after his attempts to kiss me last night, plus Kieran would have to take me as no one else knows where it is. Yes, what a big exciting morning it would be.
Just when I finished my breakfast and thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse there was a knock at the front door. It was a messenger. This afternoon at twenty past two, at the Old Hall, wherever that was, Lynk wanted to meet me. Great. Bloody fantastic.
I wasn’t disappointed.
The walk was as quiet and uncomfortable as I expected. We didn’t speak once as we made our way into the city centre. Kieran walked stubbornly ahead of me, ignoring me furiously but leading the way. After a while I started to get the feeling that we were heading towards the bad side of town. When I eventually asked him where we were going he answered with the words: The Underworld.
I saw what he meant. The whole area seemed dirty and ominous. As we walked the streets were oddly silent; despite the fact that there were people about. They appeared very withdrawn, keeping their coats covering their bodies and hoods over their mercurial shifty eyes. They only walked in small groups, speaking in whispers. I felt a cold chill in my spine, but we turned a corner and the next street was slightly livelier with more people.
The depressed cobbled road needed work, but there were what looked like shops on either side of it; selling God-knows what. There was a dodgy-looking pub on the right, people drinking steaming liquid from pitchers even at this time. Next to that was what looked like a brothel, judging by the scantily clad women sat outside, smoking unattractively from large pipes and eyeing Kieran up as he ambled past. Hatted merchants tried to sell us things, but Kieran ignored them and I followed him quietly, frightened that I’d be robbed, raped or murdered at any minute. He headed down a side road to a narrower street then through a door.
Inside there was smoke everywhere, clinging to the walls and my skin like cellophane. It stunk of something indescribable, laced faintly with human sweat and urine.
There were people buried within the smoke, but few, and most looked paralytic, lying on what looked like hospital stretchers on the floor, their eyes glazed over with a misty film. They twitched intermittently; on occasion lifting a tube of smoke to their mouths, inhaling deeply before going back to the dreams their intoxicated minds created.
I held my breath as we past the dirty figures, to a woman in the back who stood dealing what looked like a fine white powder to a small man with electric blue hair and skin a waxy pale colour.
Where the hell had Kieran taken me?
I stayed close to Kieran’s side, nervously attached to his shadow. He spoke a few words in the woman’s stretched ear. She pulled away, nodding with a toothy smile. Kieran continued through a door, up narrow stairs. Away from the smoke my heart calmed as we ascended the staircase. At the top was a door, which he opened.
Inside was a large room about the size of a basketball court; as tall as it was wide with springy wooden floors and partly mirrored walls. The mirrors were flecked with blackened dirt. The room was built entirely of wood and supportive rafters speared the walls up high.
Lining these walls hung weapons from metal hooks. These instruments weren’t for decoration, I realised anxiously. Scattered across the floor were mats, weights and benches, followed by painful looking exercise equipment. In the middle of the room Jayson was fighting with another Firebird, both brandishing live blades, and in the corner of the room was the older man Kieran had been talking to last night. He sat at a makeshift desk sorting through paper.
“Wait here,” Kieran instructed, going over to speak to the man. He returned a moment later carrying a brown envelope, “Right, I’m off.”
I stared at him in horror. “You’re just leaving me here?” I demanded.
Jayson and the other Firebird had stopped fighting now. The other Firebird, a woman, approached the older guy, speaking to him. Jayson made his way over.
Before Jayson neared me Kieran grinned cruelly. “You’ll be fine. I know you’re well enough acquainted with Jayson to ask if he’ll bring you back.” Before I could argue Kieran turned his back on me and left the way we had come.
“Hey,” Jayson smiled, stopping in front of me. “Listen before we start, I’m sorry about last night. I was really very drunk and probably did a good job of making myself look like a total idiot.”
“You did,” I agreed, but half-heartedly.
“Well,” he said cheerfully, “despite having a massive hangover, I’m going to try and make up for it.”
I smiled carefully, “Good.”
“Well for a start, it’s not really a problem today,“ Jayson said, “but tomorrow you should wear something more suitable for fighting.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
Nik had offered me some of Chara’s fighting gear; the trousers made from that strange flexible material that looked like leather but was actually scaly. I’d said no, not wanting to look like a vampire slayer on my first day.
“Right,” Jayson clapped his hands together, “to start with I’ll just walk you through some basic blocks, because you should always know how to block before you know how to attack.” Then he added, when I glanced at the weapons apprehensively, “and don’t worry, we won’t be working with any weapons just yet.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”
Now, if it was Kieran teaching me he would have laughed and said some sarcastic remark, but Jayson just smiled sweetly. “They can seem a little daunting to beginners,” he agreed honestly, “but pretty soon you’ll be fine with them. If you work with weapons long enough they become like an extension of your own body.”
I frowned, “I doubt that. I’ve not picked up a knife in my life, except to chop carrots.”
He laughed a nice relaxing laugh. “Then this must seem weird to you.”
I nodded; feeling slightly less uncomfortable, “Very.”
“Well,” he smiled brightly, flashing a set of amazingly white teeth. “I’ll change that,” he promised. “Let’s begin.”
He was very patient, I was glad to discover. First he did a quick warm up –joining in so I didn’t feel like too much of an idiot as my boobs jiggled about while I embarrassedly did star-jumps. He taught me some simple blocks, their names, and how I would use them in an emergency situation. Then he showed me how to punch and strike correctly. Next he got me to practice on some hard round pads, like they use in martial arts, until he thought I was good enough to move on. And for the last ten minutes of my session he showed me some self-defence.
Learning how to get out of grabs was quite amusing, mostly because it involved a lot of kicking to his ‘sensitive’ area -apparently to distract the attacker. Then I had to disengage and damage; which I failed epically at. I soon discovered that, despite the environment and previously awkward situation, I actually had fun kicking the crap out of someone. I soon tired though, last night’s leftover exhaustion weighing me down.
“That’s enough for today, Ruby,” Jayson said eventually.
“We’re done already?” I asked, surprised.
“For that part yeah,” he smiled. “But I thought you might want to test your affinity for Fire. You know, practice some skills.”
“What do you mean?” I wondered, confused.
He continued patiently, “Well you’re a Swartette, right? That means you’ll have the potential to be really good at manipulating fire, maybe even sparking it.”
“I can do that?” I asked, bewildered.
Jayson smiled, �
�Yeah, of course.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad here after all, though I still wasn’t looking forward to walking back through that horrible smoky drug den or even the streets outside. I hoped Jayson would come with me.
The first thing he did was explain the principles of sparking fire. It really wasn’t as exciting as he made it out to be. It just reminded me of things I’d unconsciously known all along –that my father had already taught me at a far too young age-and thing that just seemed so strangely obvious. Like where fire comes from in the body -from the tiniest space between your spine and brain, so that thought and action are connected-or why it stops easily flowing as you get older -because it uses your own energy to spark it, which dwindles over time. He explained all the rules about controlling fire too. Then finally he went through the basics.
“To spark a flame is something done unconsciously,” he explained. “If you think about it too much then you’ll just get all wound up and never be able to do it. It’s like Changing, it comes naturally. Most people associate sparking with doing something physical, for example, snapping your fingers. Actually sparking the flame is the most difficult thing to do. Once you’ve done that you’ll find it relatively easy to manipulate.”
I nodded listening carefully, nodding.
“First you need to clear your mind and listen,” he said. “There is a flame inside every Firebird, but each hums differently. To be able to unleash that flame you first need to hear it. It’s exactly the same as Changing. Find the energy then ignite it.”
He went silent to let me listen. I knew it was there, I’d heard it before. It was surprisingly easy to hear, a faint but real hum, barely a flicker inside me.
He smiled when I nodded. “Concentrate… now snap your fingers.”
I did as he said. I snapped my fingers and to my astonishment it worked first time. My mouth dropped open at the tiny light flickering between my thumb and forefinger. My face lit up, and I bounced up and down with excitement gleaming from my golden eyes, “I did it! Oh my God, look!”
He laughed, “Well done,” Jayson congratulated. Then I heard his stomach rumble. “Man I’m starving.” He lifted his voice to the older guy in the corner, “What time is it Jack?”
Ashes (The Firebird Trilogy Book 1) Page 20