Singe

by Casey Hays

  “Let’s go.” Kane tugs me back to my senses. “There’s nothing here.”

  “What now?” I ask as he pulls the door closed behind him.

  “Well, I hear there’s a very intimate movie theater right up here,” he gestures. “I have a feeling there will be plenty of seating, and we could use a break.”

  “Really?” I smirk. “You don’t think we should, like, figure things out?”

  “I don’t want to think about it anymore today. You keep saying we’re safe here, so okay. We’re safe. And there’s been too much tension with us. Let’s just be together tonight. And once Petra has a chance to see what’s going on inside your head, we’ll work some things out.”

  “You’re okay with that?” I give him a wary glance. He’s been so absorbed with reconnecting with his parents somehow that this moment of potential reprieve surprises me.

  “Yeah.” He swings an arm around my shoulders. “I am.”

  I needle my way into his mind and sense the humming tranquility in his mantra. And everything about his momentary mood falls into perfect place. Rylin and everything he owns has left the building for good, and Kane’s relief floats between the riffs of his song like an announcement of pure joy. He knows the minute I read this too, but it doesn’t staunch him. In fact, his grin deepens enough for two fiery tinged dimples to explode onto his cheeks.

  Clinging to his waist, I don’t say a word.

  Fourteen

  We take full advantage of a movie in the darkened theater, which is more like a den lined with about two dozen movie theater seats facing a two-hundred and thirty inch television screen. It’s cozy, and we hunker down alone in the back corner beneath Kane’s wings. He’s able to dim his skin, but me? I’m a blazing torch. We deal with it, because I want to be in my full natural form—no help from anyone to get me there—when I slip into that vest tonight.

  It’s the real deal. Tonight, we’re going to find out exactly what my brain is up to while I’m sound asleep. No induced naptimes or tranquilizers, but naturally. The way a body is supposed to sleep. Without camouflage. I’ve never been more ready to get to bed in my entire life. I’ve also never had so many knots in my stomach at once.

  I only half watch the movie, some ten-year-old shoot’em up action film that I forget the name of after the first scene. Petra’s words got me to thinking, and for the last half hour, I’ve stayed focused on myself, trying to delve below the layers of my Fireblood identity. The buzzing warmth wraps me up like a silky blanket, and the light, although it’s bright, is comforting too. Because it’s mine. My song whispers, nestled at the back of my head, and I make a mental note that this is the only thing I’ve been able to control since I decamouflaged. My mantra obeys me. It screams when I need to scream, and it huddles low when I don’t. The mantra is everything, my servant and my master. A guardian. I allow this to become my true definition.

  Dara, the tech who fits me for the vest, meets us in the same familiar exam room I’ve graced a couple of times now. I decide it’s been assigned to me, so I’ll call it mine. Dara is young and curious—and human. She’s dressed in a baby blue lab coat, a long, dusty brown braid snaking around the side of her neck and hanging nearly to her waist. Her eyes are warm but curious, and the olive-green framed glasses she wears make her look smart. Which is fitting, because she is smart.

  It’s pretty evident she’s familiar with Firebloods and their qualities. She still has questions for me—the newbie.

  “Can you speak in Jezik?”

  “Yes.” I wear shorts, and my legs dangle over the edge of the exam table.

  “You’re really lucky.” Sitting on a rolling stool that makes her a head level shorter, her admiration shines like the sun. “Not all hybrids can speak Jezik, you know? And it’s not something that can be learned.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  Kane leans in a corner, fully camouflaged so as not to be a distraction where I’m supposed to be the main subject of interest. Clearly, he didn’t know this either. He gives me a little shrug.

  “Where are your wings?”

  “I don’t have wings.” My stomach tightens.

  “Oh.” An unreadable emotion crosses her face, but she washes it out quickly with a smile. I think she wants to say more—to tell me how sorry she is about my plight. Her mouth opens, then shuts on second thought, obviously not wanting to offend me. Instead, she busies herself with fastening all the buckles on the vest.

  “But my brother has wings.” I say this quickly, hoping to bring things back to a level of comfort.

  “Nice.” She stands to wipe my temples squeaky clean with rubbing alcohol. The eye-watering smell floods my nostrils. “Is he hybrid or full?”

  “Hybrid.” I grip the edges of the steel table where I sit. “How many hybrids have you seen?”

  “Only Ani—” She stops herself mid-sentence, reaching for a blood pressure cuff and strapping it to my arm. “Just a couple,” she finishes.

  I glance at Kane again. I know better than to push an issue someone doesn’t what to talk about, and that presumption grows heavier by the minute.

  The room becomes solidly quiet after this. Other than my asking her to loosen a clasp that she’s fastened a little too snug over my navy tank top, all questions cease. Eventually, she gets the entire mess feeling comfortable enough for me to spend the night in it. She then proceeds to use some sort of adhesive glue as the final touch for fastening the wires to my scalp and temples. She smears the stuff on a suctioned end, spreads apart my hair in various places, and presses. They stick immediately, and trust me, they aren’t going anywhere. In fact, it takes us five minutes to get one loose she accidentally glues to my eyebrow. By the time Petra makes it in to check her work, I have so many wires crawling out of my head toward the monitor box they could be mistaken for exotic dreadlocks.

  “You’d fit right in in Jamaica, mon,” Kane teases, planting a kiss on the only part of my head that isn’t occupied. He’s not funny.

  “All right, Jude.” Petra gives me a once over, then flips the switch on the small portable device that will record my every sleeping moment. It whirs to life, making slight beeping sounds every few seconds. “You’re all set.”

  “Do I need to do anything?” I ask.

  “Get a good night’s sleep.” The automatic blood pressure cuff begins another round of measurements. This is already beginning to grate on my nerves. “The machine is monitoring your brain activity as we speak. We’ll be able to see everything it captures.”

  “Everything?” Kane tips his lips to the side mischievously. Petra laughs.

  “Nothing like that,” she assures, a teasing scold flooding her voice. “Still, in the absence of any parental guidance, I feel obliged to tell you two to behave yourselves. As a mother myself, it’s the least I can do.”

  “You have kids?” I straighten, feeling the tug of wires in the motion. In all our conversations, she’s never mentioned it.

  “I do.”

  “Where are they?”

  “With their father at the moment.” She glances at the watch on her left wrist. “Hopefully getting some homework done. Now, go on.” That’s apparently all she plans to offer about her family. She gives my hand a little tug, and I slide off the end of the examination table. “Get to bed.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I salute. I turn toward Dara. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You bet.” She tips her chin. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

  Petra swings open the door, and with Kane on my heels, I maneuver my way out into the sterile hallway that leads to our elevator. That’s what I’m calling it now. Our elevator. No one else seems to use it. The portable monitor has a handle like a briefcase. It gets a little heavy the longer we walk, and when I start to struggle, Kane sweeps it up with a wink.

  “Let me,” he teases. “We do not want this thing tracking how much you plan to overexert yourself.”

  “All right, you can cool it.” I slap the ba
ck of my hand into his chest. He laughs, catching my hand in his and kissing my fingertips. “The most you’ll be getting out of me through all these wires is a kiss on the cheek. And that’s only if you’re lucky.”

  He pretends to pout, but his eyes blaze deep orange, and his skin flares up as he loosens his camouflage a notch.

  “You’re getting used to being in natural form, I see.” I toss a wink. He grins.

  “You know, I am.” His wings sprout, and he flaps them once. “I know it takes work, but I guess I’d forgotten how tiring it is to stay camouflaged all the time. I’ve been doing it for so long.”

  Not to mention what a burden it’s been to keep my ring compelled all these years. He must feel a thousand pounds lighter. The elevator opens.

  “You should go to the aviary,” I suggest, punching the button to the penthouse. “It might be fun.”

  “I don’t know.” He eases in next to me, folding his wings in close. “It’s sounds confining.”

  That makes me laugh under our current cramped circumstances. He puffs up his wings, over-exaggerating his discomfort.

  “You won’t know if you don’t try it out.” I blow a section of feathers out of my face.

  “Yeah.” He gives me a look. One that worries me. Because I haven’t seen this look before, and I thought I’d seen them all. I narrow in on him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking…” He falls against the wall with a sigh. “There’s a fire escape exit next to the theater.”

  “Kane O’Reilly.” I add a slight scolding to my voice. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He really wouldn’t. He’s too cautious. But the corner of his mouth does tilt upward, questioning his own motives. I give him a tiny shove.

  “Just go to the aviary already.”

  “Maybe. But it will only remind me of how much it isn’t the outdoors.”

  I see. His heart is already headed for the fire escape.

  When I finally get a real glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror, I can’t stop laughing, which gets Kane worked up until we’re both rolling. I look like Rainbow Medusa. It’s too early to sleep, and Kane suggests we go see one more movie, but I talk him out of it. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I get out of this Halloween costume.

  But by midnight, after Kane has gone to bed and both our suites are silent, I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling and huffing every five minutes. For one, the wires, as thin as they are, are not comfortable at all. I try every position with no luck. Second, the beeping monitor is driving me insane right along with the blood pressure cuff that decides to squeeze the heck out of my arm every thirty minutes. I’m beginning to wish I’d asked for something to help me sleep.

  A few minutes before one, I start to drift, but my body jerks awake right before the tipping point. I scowl, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. This sucks.

  The room is full of shadows, and my sizzling skin adds an eerie ambience to the place. That’s another thing doesn’t really help. I can’t control how bright my skin is. It’s like trying to fall asleep in the middle of a lit fireplace.

  I kick my glowing feet a couple of times. On the second swing, I notice something. A long-stemmed rose. I lean over my knees. The floor is covered in them.

  What the hell?

  I flick on the lamp next to the bed thinking the strange lighting mixed with shadows is playing tricks on my vision. Nope. The entire floor is covered with roses in every shade. Like they were picked from the very garden of my dream and scattered across my suite.

  I bend, pick up one of them, sniff it. It’s the real deal, and the scent consumes me. But the minute it touches the tip of my nose, it bursts into flames. With a tiny squeal, I drop it. It flames up and fizzles out before it hits the floor, burnt to a crisp and smoking. I draw my feet up to the safety of the bed and scan the room.

  One by one, the roses rise into the air until all of them are floating four feet above the floor. They begin a slow spin around my bed. What the heck is going on?

  They come to a halt. I blink once. They vanish. A wind whips up, so strong it nearly topples me off the bed. I grab the post and hold on tight.

  The wind is gone as quickly as it came, and I leap from the bed, determined to get to Kane’s suite. I don’t know if my room is haunted or what, but I’m not about to stay in here another minute alone.

  I’m two feet from the bedroom door when it slams shut in my face. I jump in shock, clutching my chest, and slowly slide backwards toward my bed. I don’t make it. My back thuds into something solid. Something that wasn’t here moments ago. Terrified out of my skin, I spin.

  It’s not something that stands in the middle of the room.

  It’s someone.

  “Rylin?” I gasp.

  He says nothing, but it’s him. He stares at me with sunken, tired eyes. He looks terrible.

  “How—how did you get in here?”

  The heavy drapes are drawn, the glass behind them locked tight. Behind me the door remains shut. Rylin doesn’t move. He doesn’t say a word.

  “We were so worried when you didn’t come back.” Still nothing. I take a wary step toward him. “Are you… are you all right?”

  He’s fully camouflaged and as I move closer I barely detect his shivering. I would have missed it if I hadn’t looked closely. Fists clenched tight at his sides, he’s full of tremors. He takes me in, not blinking. His hair is wet with sweat, and a trickle of blood seeps from his temple in a long, red line.

  “Oh my gosh, Rylin. You’re bleeding.” I reach for him. My hands slide right through him, like he’s not here. Startled, I step back.

  “J-Jude,” he whispers. His voice is barely discernable, it’s a struggle just to say my name.

  He’s weak. In pain. I feel it in his breath as he forms that single syllable. Hesitantly, I move close again.

  “What is it?”

  “Run,” he whispers.

  I look at him. “What?”

  His shaking magnifies, consuming him until the shape of who he is trembles right out of detail and starts to fade. I stretch both hands toward him, hoping this might keep him here with me. His mouth opens, wider and wider. Horrified, I watch as a black bird squeezes out and sits on the end of his tongue. On a small piece of string around its neck hangs… a tracker. A blue light blinks, beeping. The beeps grow louder and closer together until they become a long line of never ending, blinking, blue beeping lights. The bird chirps, takes flight, makes one circle around the room, and bursts into flames. Ash falls all around us. So much ash. Like the aftermath of a volcano.

  Fear consumes my every nerve. Rylin shivers uncontrollably. He drops to his knees, tears leaving long streaks on his ash-covered cheeks. It blackens his hair, his skin. Slowly, I kneel in front of him, just as covered.

  I don’t understand what is happening. Nothing makes sense.

  “Rylin.” I reach for him again. This time, I get a hold on his hand. It’s solid and hot. So hot it would burn the average person. “What happened at the hearing? Why did you take so long to come back?”

  His shivering comes to a full stop as if someone flipped a switch. His fingers tighten around mine and then…

  “Ruuuuuun!”

  He screams the word. Loud. So loud I have to let go of him to cover my ears. And like the flowers and the bird, he bursts into flames.

  “Nooooo!” I lunge forward, but all I catch is a handful of ash. It falls to the floor in a pile at my knees. My tears are hot and heavy, leaden on my cheeks. I fall forward over my knees, sobbing. It’s then that I realize the wires protruding from my head are gone. Sitting up, I clutch at my hair, burying my fingers in the thick locks.

  The monitor is gone too.

  “Am I dreaming?”

  I can’t be dreaming. I never went to sleep. I climb to my feet. The room is empty. No roses, no leftover ash… no Rylin.

  The wires? They dangle from my head, exactly how Dara attached them. At my feet, the m
onitor sits, beeping in uniform rhythm.

  I’m covered in soot.

  Lyric 4

  The flutter between my shoulders is intense. I feel the strain of my wings, feel the muscles flexing and contracting with the motion. The air ripples all around me.

  I’m in a hospital bed. The four walls surrounding me are made of silver metal. Steel or platinum, I think. I also think I am one smart baby for knowing that. I swell up with pride a little until I realize it’s me. Seventeen-year-old Jude… remembering.

  I pause the motion of my wings, examining the room. Where am I?

  I spot Mom. She’s hunkered in a corner, a wad of Kleenex in her fist. Her eyes are red, and every once in a while, she sniffles. I hear Dad’s voice, but I can’t see him. Another voice—deeper and more gravelly—joins his. They’re in the hallway. Dad says my name. I perk up, listening.

  “You guarantee she won’t suffer?”

  “Listen, Rafe, this isn’t my first rodeo. And I think you know this, or you wouldn’t be entrusting me with your daughter. She’s in good hands.”

  “I know.” Dad sighs deep and loud, and I hear it even through the steel door. But… that’s right. I have great hearing when I’m in my natural form. Which I am.

  I lift a tiny orange hand and wiggle my fingers.

  Wait… this is weird. Am I dreaming?

  This has to be a dream. But…

  I remember this room. I remember my mom sitting in that green chair in the corner with her wadded tissue. In a minute, Mom is going to get up and come to the bed. On the way, she’ll pick up the teddy bear slumped on a round table.

  And… here she comes.

  She smiles at me and nestles the bear into my chest, cottony soft. And just like I remember, I hug him close. I remember that I needed that hug too. Because something bad is going to happen. I look up. Mom’s hand cradles my head. She kisses my cheek. It’s a trembly kiss.