by Casey Hays
“You brought me back from the dead.” He chucks me on the shoulder, playful. “That should turn a few heads.”
Yep. That might work.
“Keep that prepaid phone close by. I’ll call you when things are ready on my end.”
He unfurls his wings in a whoosh of wind that blows all of my hair into my face. His skin deepens, the veins vibrant and pulsing. And with a quick wink, he shoots straight up into the air and vanishes.
***
Kane trips down the stairs, fresh out of the shower and shirtless, drying his hair with a hand towel.
“Hey.” He pauses on the bottom step and looks around. “Did he leave?”
“Yep.”
He takes the last step.
“So, he’ll call us?”
“Yes.” I drop into a kitchen chair, a heavy sigh loading down my lungs. “I’m nervous.”
“You’re ready for this.” He flings his towel toward the sink and settles into the chair next to me, smelling fresh, his voice is soft.
“I have to be.” It’s a hesitant answer, but it’s the only one I allow myself to entertain.
“That sounds confident.” Kane’s sarcasm is totally transparent, but he grows serious again quickly. “I saw you take Rylin, Jude. He was in that bed upstairs, and then he was gone. It was the longest we were ever together in a dream, and it felt real. Like you were awake and right there with me. What you can do in a dream?” He takes up my hand and kisses my palm. “It’s kind of stronger than the ability to compel. It’s… magical.”
Magical. My confidence level rises a tiny bit as his words settle over me. I needed to hear this from him.
“I don’t know how to control everything. Some things just happen for me.”
“Maybe that’s the point. Let what you need to happen just happen.” He toys with my fingers, kissing them one by one. “Just. Like. Magic.” A pause. “I had to buy a new helmet, by the way. At a pawn shop. I have two dollars left.”
I laugh.
“Well, it was my first time extracting something.” I pull my hand free. “And in my defense, I tried to give it back. The portal just doesn’t work that way.”
“Then I guess I have to forgive you.” He drops low, his chin on his folded arms and looks up at me. “But I hope you brought it with you because the new one sucks.”
“It’s in the car, you big baby.”
I ruffle his hair, feigning irritation. We’re all alone now. He takes advantage of it, grabbing my wrist and yanking me out of my chair and into his lap where he plants a long awaited and super warm kiss on my lips. I straddle his hips, my fingers in his hair again. When I pull away, his eyes are dreamy and hazy with fire.
“Want to see something cool?” I whisper. I lean into him, feel his sweet breath on my neck.
“Always.” He brushes his lips against my skin.
I reach behind him for the light switch and plunge the room into darkness.
“What’s happening?”
There’s an anticipation in his whisper, but I don’t make him wait long. I pluck off my ring and chuck it onto the table with a clink. It takes a few seconds, so Kane smiles.
“I see what you’re doing here, Gallagher. Do you want some help—”
“Shhh.” I cover his mouth. “Don’t do anything.”
Five of his soft breaths tickle my palm before the warmth attacks the center of my stomach. I focus. It’s going to happen. I’m going to decamouflage myself, and my smile peeks out at him as I catch the slow simmer of my eyes reflected in his. It grows, burns, and his brows curl together, confused, but slowly they unfold as my skin warms against him. The glow, light and tempered at first, deepens. The veiny markings crackle through my skin. Two more heartbeats, and…
Kane stares at my face, wide-eyed and amazed. And as if there’s nothing else to be done or said or found, he pulls my hand away, and his lips slam into mine, warm and full and fitting perfectly against my mouth. He loosens his own camouflage, matching me skin for skin, color for color, heat for heat. Our mantras meet, dance with each other separately, and slowly and sensuously meld together until they force our hearts to beat in sync.
Nothing else in the world matters after this for the rest of the night.
What can I say? These things tend to happen when Kane turns into a Fireblood and kisses me.
Lyric 8
“Do you like music?”
Five-year-old Kane sits across from me in our kindergarten classroom. Green-eyed and curious, he keeps on coloring with a bright red crayon as he poses the question. I pause in my own coloring to ponder it.
“I guess so,” I shrug. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “I like the music in my head most.” He colors on. “Do you like the music in yours?”
I fill the rest of a flower with magenta and lay my crayon down. “I don’t have music in my head. That’s weird.”
Confused, he finally stops coloring and looks up—straight at me. His eyes flicker with teeny-tiny golden speckles that vanish as quickly as they came.
“Nevermind,” he whispers.
He selects a blue crayon and gets back to work.
Thirty-six
Kane wakes me just before five, right out of my dream. I’m curled up against him, my hot skin dimmed to a soft glow, something that happens lately when I sleep. I’m not sure yet if I’m controlling that or if it only happens by default.
“What is it?” I unfold my body out next to him, feeling the stretch all the way to my toes.
“It’s Rylin.”
He holds out the phone. I scramble upright and take it.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Hi. You’re there?”
“Safe and sound.”
“Good.” I toss a relieved glance at Kane.
“The medical supply company opens soon, and I’ll get the truck.”
“Okay.”
“I’m heading to Cedar Hills in a few hours, as soon as it opens to visitors. I plan to get to Dr. Samson before your mother comes.” My chest tightens when he mentions her. “Once I’m close enough to link with Jarron, I’ll tell him the plan. And then, it’s all you, Jude.”
“Okay.” My answer is a breathy whisper. Kane’s hand eases up my thigh. I slide my fingers over it, clinging to him.
“This will work,” Rylin assures me. “Just be ready and stay focused.”
I hang up and sink into the mattress, hands over my face. It’s getting real now. I’ve got to keep it together.
“Everything okay?” Kane pushes my hair away from my face.
“Yeah.” I roll into him, curling my fists up under my chin and crushing my cheek into his chest. “I’m just freaking out a little.”
“Jude, you have to stop doing this to yourself.” He hugs me close. “You did good last night. You had full control inside there.” He taps two fingers against my temple.
“I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” He presses his lips against my head, pulling me closer. “You did. So… chill.”
Chill. Right.
Kane makes breakfast; I run a super hot bath in that four-legged tub and sink into the sudsy water up to my chin, the light of my skin reflecting off the surface in an orangey glow. Last night’s dream tickles my memory, and Kane’s right. It was a solid dream.
I’m confident inside a dream, something I tend to forget once I wake up. And it’s easier to grasp this idea of being awake… while I’m asleep. Last night, I set the scene. Just Kane and me and nothing else, and I practiced “compelling the elements.”
I was aware of Kane, inside and out of the dream. Out here, he lay close beside me, an arm slung over my waist, but in my dream, he was on the other side of that door, guarding it. Protecting me.
I controlled my actions, the shifts in scenery, the smells and sounds. Kane wouldn’t let me open the door, and even though I knew I could. I didn’t try to, but it was my decision. It’s what I wanted, to respect his request because he wanted to keep
me safe. And so, all five locks remained secure, and my key was nowhere to be found.
My dream seemed to last all night, my back pressed to the rough wooden door, the keyhole just above my ear. I listened to Kane talk. Now that I’m awake, I realize he didn’t always make sense, but I understood every innuendo, every platitude, every remark, because in my dreams, I decide what makes sense and what doesn’t.
I’m confident inside my dreams. But out here, I forget what that feels like. I need a balance.
“Jude?”
Kane’s knock at the door startles me. I jump, choking on a mouthful of soapy water. I drag myself to the surface, wiping at my face. Water splatters over the rim.
“Yeah?”
“Overeasy or scrambled?”
“Uh, scrambled.”
His footsteps retreat, and I toss a sigh into the air and sink completely under the water, my heart pounding. I am a nervous wreck.
I hold my breath for almost a minute, thinking of the Fireblood at the lab who held on for days and wondering why anyone would want to do that—just to keep my mind from wondering about other things. Releasing a couple of bubbles, I break the surface and grab a washcloth from the towel rack above me, throwing it over my face.
This is not a general anxiety I’m feeling here. I can precisely pinpoint why I’m so anxious. My mom. She is not going to like that I undermined her. And even though I have—several times in the last few weeks—I really don’t like doing it.
I know I talked big when I left the facility, promising I would do everything I could to get Jarron out of that place, but now that it’s actually going to happen, I really, really want Mom to be on our side.
I pull the drain and climb out, nearly slipping on the wet floor. I drop one towel over the puddle, and stand on it, drying myself with another. I brush my teeth, comb out my wet hair and dress in the most causal thing I brought: yoga pants and an oversized tee shirt. Because today, with all the tension storming through my blood, I plan to be comfortable.
Back in the bedroom, the prepaid phone stares at me from the middle of the bed where I left it. It stares hard, and I have half a mind to pick it up and call Mom. I want to hear her voice. I’d love to tell her everything that’s happened since I left Portland—everything I’ve learned about myself. That we have a solid plan for Jarron. And more than anything, I hope she’s been worried about me. Not because I want her to worry, but because I want her to care. Then again, maybe Gema and Connor didn’t call her at all. In light of what we know, I have a pretty good feeling they called no one.
I slide into my seat at the breakfast table and flail a napkin across my lap, tossing Kane a forced smile. I bite into a piece of toast; he pauses, fork suspended, and studies me.
“Do you feel better?”
“I’m just ready to get it over with.” I chase down my bite with a gulp of orange juice and attempt a more convincing smile. “But yeah. I’m good.”
I don’t sound good, and he senses it. Of course, he does.
Kane slides a forkful of eggs into this mouth. “Maybe we should do something today. To pass the time while we wait?”
I tap at the rim of my juice glass. “Like what?”
“We could… get lost in the cornfields? Take a nap in the hayloft? Swim in the lake?” He eyeballs the stairs with a quick humorous shifting. “Indoor sledding?”
I laugh, touched by his desire to keep my mind off of pressing matters until they start really pressing. “All of the above.”
“Cool,” he grins. “I’ll get the—”
The sound of a car’s engine coming up the lone road stops all conversation. Kane leaps from his seat and squats in front of the window facing the porch.
“Get down, Jude.”
I slide off of the chair to the floor. “My Glock is upstairs in my bag.”
“No need,” he whispers. He produces his own gun from his waistband where it was hidden under his shirt. “I’ve been packing for a couple of days now.”
Great. The fact that he’s felt the need to actually carry his gun sends a surge of panic through me. I so hope we don’t have to kill anybody. I take a deep breath, calming myself. Rylin said only trusted people know about this place. Kane was careful. He hasn’t been followed. But…
Voices. Two men on the porch. I ease up next to Kane and carefully peer out under the bottom of the curtains.
“Wait a minute.” I blink, push the curtain a little higher. A tattoo under the brim of a cowboy hat comes into plain view.
“Jude.” Kane pulls on my hand, but I stand quickly. “You don’t have your ring on.”
“But I know one of them.”
“What?”
“I mean, I’ve seen him. At the lab. His name is… Raymond… Ramon… something like that.”
Kane peeks out the window. “You saw him at the lab?’
“He’s Petra’s informant.”
Kane rises up, crinkling his brow. “Petra has an informant?”
“Yes. He works for Mr. Simon, Rylin’s regent godfather.” I cast another glance away from Kane’s befuddled expression and toward the window. I guess there were a few things Rylin and I forgot to mention.
The knock on the door is loud, and we both jump. I heave a breath, half-laughing as Kane moves in. He hesitates, then…
“Hello?”
Silence on the other side. Kane’s finger hovers over the trigger.
“We’re looking for Rylin McDowell.” A muffled voice through the wood. “Is—is this him?”
“Who wants to know?”
Another beat of silence. The two men exchange a few inaudible words.
“My name is Ramon Chama. I’m a friend.”
I tap Kane’s arm and slip into his thoughts.
“It’s him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I tap my cheek right where Ramon’s tattoo is situated.
Everything about Kane’s demeanor proves his wariness at opening the door, and I don’t blame him. Just because I met the guy once doesn’t mean he’s one of the good guys. I don’t know his story. I only know what Petra told me. And what Rylin said. Only trusted people…
“Rylin’s not here.” Kane leans an ear against the door, listening for a response.
“Well… who are you?”
Someone cocks a trigger. Kane’s grip tightens on his own gun.
“I’m watching the place for him.”
“Do you know where we can find him?” The voice sounds wary. “I have a message for him.”
“What’s the message?” Kane asks. “I’ll give it to him.”
“Who are you, again?”
Kane frowns. “How about you tell me how you found this place, and then we’ll talk.”
Silence follows, then whispering. Kane’s wary expression deepens, but I’m sure he’s the guy from the lab. And if he works for Mr. Simon, he likely helped save Rylin. Finally, Ramon speaks up.
“Okay, buddy. Obviously, you’re someone Rylin trusts, or you wouldn’t be here. What do you need to hear from me?”
Kane exchanges a glance with me.
“Ask him about Petra.”
Kane takes a deep breath. “Do you know Dr. Ademov?”
Another bout of silence.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I’m… a contact. An acquaintance.”
“For what?”
I nudge Kane in the side. “Ask him about Alexandre Simon.”
“Are you sure” He’s all full of nerves.
“It’s him.” I mouth in a sharp whisper. Kane frowns at me.
“Have you spoken with Petra today?”
Exasperated, I shake my head. I’m this close to asking him myself.
“Why do you think I’m here?” Agitation floods Ramon’s voice. “Look, I’d really rather not do this through the door.”
“Do you know someone named Alexandre Simon?”
We hold our breath together, and the silence on the other side of the door is lon
g and tense. And proof in my mind that this is definitely the same guy I saw in the lab.
Ramon’s voice is harder when he speaks.
“Who are you again?”
Yep. I’m right. Kane tips his head toward the staircase.
“Go upstairs.”
“What? No.”
“No one associated with the Contingent needs to see you.”
“Kane—”
“Did Petra tell this Ramon guy who you are?”
Come to think of it, she didn’t even say my name that day. Great. I’ve just lost all my leverage.
I don’t bother to argue, but I huff pretty loud on the way up the stairs. Kane waits until I turn the corner in the hall before the lock clicks.
“I’m coming out,” he says through the door.
The screen slaps closed on his exit; I leap over the bed and crouch near the window, perked up to listen. It’s pretty wild how well I can hear when I focus in. Like I’m right next to Kane.
“You’re… Kane O’Reilly, aren’t you?” Ramon says.
And there it is. Kane is on the Contingent’s radar. My pulse rages. Great. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened that door.
“Yeah.” That wariness swells on Kane’s tongue, and my own fears yank at me.
“You don’t have to worry about us, kid. We’re on your side.”
“Okay.” Kane doesn’t sound any more convinced, and I slide my Glock out of my bag, and tiptoe toward the bedroom door. “So what’s your message?”
“Where is Rylin?” Ramon asks, ignoring Kane’s question. “I left him here, and the next thing I know, he’s at the lab. Now, Petra tells me he’s alive and well. Mr. Simon wants proof.”
“What’s your message?” Kane repeats, harsher this time.
“Okay, okay. Mr. McDowell’s body,” he answers. “It was prepared for transport to Ireland. It left on the first flight out yesterday morning.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Mr. Simon wanted to give him this. I’ve been carrying it around for a couple of days, and I think it’s pretty valuable.”
I’ve made it downstairs, and I squat below the window, raising up just enough to see Ramon show something to Kane. A watch. A nice one too. The second man has moved off the porch to give them space to speak alone.