Scorch Song (Firebloods Book 2) Read online

  “He is not going in with us,” she announces under her breath. “Not on your life, young lady.”

  I lift a brow. The words are slow and staggered, and if this wasn’t so pathetic, it might be humorous.

  “Mom–”

  “No.” She cuts me off. “That’s final.”

  She tosses Rylin a glare that he doesn’t miss. I detect a small clench of his jaw before he steers his gaze toward the opposite direction, pretending that he can’t hear a word we’re saying. Frankly, he could use a few acting classes.

  “Mom, Rylin is not the enemy.”

  “Don’t you dare try to tell me who the enemy is.” She hisses the words through her teeth and yanks off her glasses to stab me with overly bloodshot eyes. “I’ve been running from the enemy since the moment I fell backwards into your father’s world, and I am well aware of who is chasing me.”

  She moves in close, pointing a finger right up into my face, her breath hot and wreaking with the aftermath of a drunken night. The smell literally knocks me back a pace. On top of this, doubts suddenly peek at me from the shadows of my past like little monsters. A past where my mom was sober, no less. But those doubts make me question the memories of Mom and Dad from my childhood. I thought they were happy. Completely in love in a perfect life they had created for us. Now, I’m not so sure. Now, I wonder what hovered beneath the surface of our perfect, little life.

  I refocus. As always, reasoning with her is my only option.

  “I understand where you’re coming from. I get it, okay? Look, Kane didn’t want to send Rylin with me anymore than you want Rylin to be here. He would have much rather come himself. That’s just not the way it worked out. And right now, Rylin is all I’ve got, and—” I hesitate, not daring to look his way. “I need him. He can decamouflage me, and if I want to talk to Jarron—”

  “Nice try.” She cuts me off with a disappointed shake of her head. “You can decamouflage just fine on your own.”

  “The process is quicker with his help.” I snap my fingers for emphasis. “Instant. Otherwise, we’ll be waiting a couple of hours. I don’t think we have that kind of time. Or patience.”

  “The answer is no.” She doesn’t even hesitate with the comeback, and the firmness of her words stings. “I’m taking a chance bringing you in as it is. I’m certainly not taking a full-blown Fireblood into that cell.”

  Over Mom’s shoulder, Rylin connects with me—straight through the lenses of his sunglasses—and all my doubt about him collapses, just like that. You see, Kane wants to believe Rylin has ulterior motives, and I was inclined to believe it too. But then, he confided in me about his sister. He promised to stop feeding me his mantra. He could have easily taken advantage of me when I showed up in his hotel room in the middle of the night with a strong urge to set my Fireblood self free. He didn’t. Last night, I saw a different side to Rylin—a strong and powerful but vulnerable side that I truly believe I can trust. And right here on the spot, I choose to trust him. I flick my eyes back to Mom.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Propped on an elbow against the hood of the car, Rylin doesn’t move when I plant myself in front of him. Frankie hops out of the passenger seat and joins us.

  “Mom doesn’t want you going in.”

  Frankie sweeps her eyes from him to me and back. “What does that mean?”

  “It means nothing,” Rylin answers. He smiles at me. “I have no reason to go in. I can decamouflage you from here. I’ll give it twenty minutes before I start.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” An indiscernible sigh escapes me. It’s risky to leave myself so unguarded, but if he can’t go in? Well, we just might have another mess to clean up afterwards, I suppose. I slide off my ring and drop it into his offered palm, hoping with everything in me that nothing goes wrong.

  He catches my fingertips, hanging on to them a bit longer than he probably should. I pull away, avoiding his eyes.

  “What about me?” Frankie chimes in. “Can I go with you?”

  “We’re about to find out.”

  Together, we approach Mom. She lifts her tired shoulders, straightening her back and casting eyes between Frankie and me.

  “Rylin stays. He can decamouflage me from here,” I announce. “But Frankie goes.”

  “That’s fine.” Mom nods, a clear hint of relief overtaking her. She shoves her sunglasses back into place.

  “Lead the way.” I gesture toward the building.

  My brave front doesn’t last. Even the reassuring squeeze Frankie gives my hand doesn’t stall the nerves marching through my body like an invading army. My mom doesn’t waste a single glance on Rylin as we pass him, but I do. He removes his sunglasses, tosses my ring into the air, and catches it. But that’s not what calls off the invasion of nerves. It’s his wink followed by a firm nod that transforms those little guys into a tiny, manageable squadron cowering in the trenches. Rylin has my back. He’s a parking lot away, and he won’t let me down. My whole heart feels that whole truth in that one action.

  While Mom checks us in at the front desk, I take a moment to digest my surroundings. Believe me, the place is utterly clean and full of freshness. But I’m beginning to decamouflage on my own already, and I have to tell you, there’s so much more to a public building than what most people sense. Things I never would have noticed before. Faint hints of urine and sweat, dirty mop water in a janitor’s closet, pungent, dying roses on a patient’s bedside table, chocolate pudding… and I haven’t even gotten to the sights or sounds yet. From its laminate wood flooring to its ceiling-to-floor front windows and beige walls, the whole place is vibrant like a living beast, heartbeat and all. Joy and sorrow have lived here. It’s a plain fact.

  A man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a long-sleeved, blue button-up tucked into a pair of belted, black Dockers pushes through a set of doors and greets my mom with a smile. He extends his hands, cupping hers between both of his.

  “Good morning, Ellen.” His smile is suspiciously forced, and I drag my guard into place. “And who do we have here?”

  His blue-gray eyes take me in. They’re deceptively warm—flickering with some sort of mad intensity that makes me wary—and my senses hackle up on full alert. In fact, I feel this strange urge to run, which is weird. Mom lays a hand on my shoulder.

  “Dr. Samson, this is my daughter, Jude, and her friend, Frankie Melmack.” She pauses, leans against the counter, and takes a steadying breath. “As I mentioned in our phone conversation last night, she’s here to see Jarron.”

  “Yes.” His eyes relax, crinkling in the corners. He takes Mom by the elbow. “Let’s take this somewhere a little more private.”

  I exchange a glance with Frankie as we follow. It’s hard to name the emotions I experience, but Fear rises up again, and not just any fear. It’s a fear of being disappointed. Or of being a disappointment. Of being rejected. What if I let Jarron down? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he really is so unstable that I can’t reach him at all? What if I can’t make him understand how sorry I am that I never knew him?

  My breathing shifts with these thoughts, and I wrap sweaty fingers around my key, clinging to it like oxygen. We walk; I picture Kane’s dimpled smile. I stare at the back of Mom, focus on the folded wrinkles of her elbow as her arm sways at her side. She’s having a little trouble walking straight, but at least she’s upright. I tense, but right about then, my mantra begins to emerge, bringing its shelter, and Fear begins to fall back.

  Dr. Samson ushers us into what appears to be a small conference room. Same beige walls and wood floors with one bright window and a rectangular table. I take a seat across from Mom. Frankie follows suit.

  The doctor closes the door, but he doesn’t sit. He stays put at the end of the table, propping his weight on his fingertips and scrutinizing me. Every inch of me. In fact, he doesn’t take his eyes off of me, and I squirm on the inside. I have the strangest premonition that he’s searching for something about me that he’d love to explo
it. That’s the only way to describe it. As if I’m a new form of life he’s just discovered under a microscope. When he hones in on my eyes with an astonished lift of his brow, I get it. Already, my eyes are beginning to shift, and he sees it. So does Mom. He clears his throat, with a satisfied gleam.

  “I must express my concerns.” He addresses my mom now. “In light of the fact that Jarron knows nothing of Jude’s existence, we should discuss a few safety measures.”

  Wait a minute. What?

  “Yes,” Mom agrees. She tosses me a lazy smile, then lifts a brow with a hiccupping giggle. “Wow. Your eyes are changing.”

  She falls back against her chair and just stares at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time. Maybe she is. Dr. Melmack veers in for a closer look at me. His curiosity about another Gallagher hybrid is obvious. I can tell by the sudden flash of opportunity that joins the gleam in his eyes, and that does it; I definitely don’t trust this guy.

  “I’m very anxious to witness this ‘decamouflaging’ for myself.” He squints in, studying me more closely. “If what you’re mother says is true, you are one fascinating young lady.”

  A stone cold face is my only response. That must have been quite a talk he and Mom had last night. Leave it to Frankie to take up the conversation where I don’t.

  “You are absolutely right, doctor.” She pats my leg. “Jude is an exceptional person. Not only has she maintained her human façade for her entire life, she is brilliant in other ways I could name, but it would take me too long.” She casts her eyes at me over the top of her glasses. “I’ve only known about her ‘condition’ for a day myself, which proves her impenetrable discretion.” She faces him, clamping her fingers together on the table’s edge. “She’s loyal and trustworthy; her heart is made of gold. And more importantly, she loves a brother she’s never met. I have full faith that you are going to find quite an asset in her to help treat Jarron’s recent issues.”

  When my brows finally fall back to their original position, I shake my head at her thorough introduction of my character. Funny how something like this can bring a friend to a full confession of what they really think about you. I’m humbled, and Dr. Samson is clearly impressed.

  “She’s one of my best friends,” I retort, keeping my stoic stance in place. “She has to say those things.”

  Frankie whips her head toward me. “You know very well I never speak anything but truth.”

  “Yep,” I mumble. “Brutal honesty.”

  “Either way, we need to take some precautions.” Dr. Samson eases back from the table. “It will be prudent to have you, Ellen, enter his room first for a regular visit. Then, when you feel he’s ready to meet his sister, we will send her in. As for you, Frankie, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait in the lobby. For now.”

  Frankie’s protest falls flat before she even begins it. She emits a tiny sigh.

  “I understand,” she nods. Her voice doesn’t hold a single ounce of the disappointment I know she feels in those words. Her only hope of seeing Jarron is if I can live up to the standards she just laid out. Great. Another burden stacked on my shoulders.

  “Jarron is kept in an isolated area of the hospital.” Dr. Samson nods toward Mom. “We’ve managed to maintain a bit more control over him since your mother’s arrival.” He pauses, crinkling his gray brows. “I’m going to be frank here; I’m slightly hesitant to allow anyone in to see him. But Ellen seems to think you could be of some use.”

  “I hope so.” I force myself to swallow the gigantic lump in my throat.

  “Okay.” He gives me a gentle smile that seems fairly genuine and reaches for the door. “Let’s go meet your brother.”

  We shuffle into the hallway, and I’m surprised when Mom takes my hand. She doesn’t look at me; she simply holds on tight. Frankie leans in.

  “Take a picture if you can,” she whispers. “I’ll tell Rylin you’re almost ready.”

  She heads for the lobby. Dr. Samson presents his hand, palm up, in the opposite direction, and I allow Mom to pull me along the hallway. She hasn’t removed her sunglasses, more than likely afraid of what the doctor might say if he sees her red eyes. I have a feeling he doesn’t care one way or another about her, and that only makes my misgivings about him grow stronger.

  “You didn’t tell Jarron about me?” I whisper. “You promised.”

  She swallows. “There was no time.”

  “Why? Because going home to get drunk was more important?” I growl. “Once again putting yourself and the drink first.”

  “Not now, Jude.” She squeezes my fingers too tightly. I wince. “It will be fine.”

  I don’t believe her in the slightest.

  We pass a few doors before we reach the swinging double ones at the end of a short corridor. Dr. Samson holds one side open to allow us through before taking up the role of guide again, leading us down another short, empty corridor toward an elevator.

  “Your hybrid situation is very unique,” he chimes, sidling up next to me.

  “I guess,” I shrug. “I’m still getting used to it, honestly.”

  I’m too nervous for a full conversation, so I hope that’s not where he’s headed. Mom’s grip tenses like it used to when I was a little girl and she was afraid I might step out into traffic without looking. She was always ready to pull me back to safety. I wonder…

  “I don’t know if your mother explained it all to you, but we have a special staff assigned to Jarron.” We reach the elevator doors, and he presses the only button, labeled B. For basement, I assume. “They were screened at the highest level to assure that they would maintain complete discretion. His therapeutic nurse is highly qualified. She visits him twice a week, and he has grown quite attached to her.” He gives my mom a slightly accusatory glance. “Even with that, she’s had a harder time keeping him focused on his treatment plan, and—”

  “What is his treatment plan, exactly?” I interrupt, piercing the doctor with my eyes which by now should be simmering quite nicely. I know they are when he ignores my question, his own eyes widening. A tiny smirk of a smile creeps onto his lips.

  “Incredible,” he whispers. He shoves up for a closer look. His breath smells like a candy cane—in a sickening sweet sort of way—and I take two backward steps to get away from him. “The fact that you can hide your true identity is… well, there really are no words.” He plants his hands on his hips. “I’ve studied up on Firebloods quite fiercely since Jarron became my patient. You wouldn’t happen to know any full-bloods, would you?”

  I frown. “My brother’s treatment plan?”

  His lips curl just enough for me to decide I definitely don’t like him. Maybe he’s discreet. Maybe he’s kept Jarron safe since the transfer from Willow Springs, but that doesn’t mean he really cares about my brother. For all I know, Jarron is simply a pet project. Something to experiment on like an animal. That’s exactly what Nancy Babbitt said my parents were afraid of. What if Mom dropped him right into a lion’s den after all? Sometimes, private companies and their laboratories can be more vicious than the government. I hate to say it, but Dr. Ademov’s experiment with the Phoenix is a perfect example.

  Dr. Samson avoids answering my question just as the elevator opens. My skin begins to burn with white light, and he notices this too. His jaw clenches enough for me to feel wary.

  “We’d better get going before someone sees you who shouldn’t.” He steps inside, holding the door for us. Mom, takes a step, but I tug on her arm. She halts, peers at me, and smiles sluggishly at Dr. Samson.

  “We’ll be down in just a minute.”

  With a nod, he eases back and lets the door slide closed on his ever present smirk. I shudder and face Mom.

  “You really trust this guy?”

  “Jude, you have to stop being so suspicious of everyone. He’s a psychiatrist; I imagine they’re all a bit eccentric, but he has never sold us out. He came highly recommended by Dr. Melmack, even though until recently, I didn’t remember him.�
� She senses my doubt in the exasperated tilt of my head. “He’s proven himself. Stop overanalyzing everything.”

  “Mom?” I take a step. She refuses to look at me, giving the elevator button a good punch. “What is Jarron’s treatment? Is it something terrible?”

  “It’s something necessary.” She punches the button again and again. “We have no choice,” she whispers.

  She still won’t look at me, and my blood turns cold in my hot veins because her words are like an ice cold knife to my heart. The door eases open, and Mom steps in, facing me with a sluggish, half-sober expression. I don’t recognize her anymore. The loving, compassionate nurse I grew up with has sacrificed her only son out of convenience. I feel sicker by the minute as I climb into the elevator after her.

  By the time we reach the basement level, the overpowering need to get to my brother is strong. All the dreams I’ve had about him fold into a tapestry of SOS signals. Alarms banging against the sides of my brain with every image calling to me, tugging my heart toward this one point in time.

  The first thing I see is a pair of large metal doors, locked from the outside and accessed only with a password on a keypad. Dr. Samson waits just inside, his foot already propping open the heavy door. With Mom on my heels, I pass into a metal chamber, thick and solid and very bright. The room contains two office chairs on wheels situated at a small desk and a long bench against one wall. Several thick red and black jumpsuits—hooded masks included—hang on large hooks, and two staff members, suited up and ready to go, turn to stare at me out of tiny windows in their helmets. A very large, Hispanic man dressed in dinosaur print scrubs and white tennis shoes comes to his feet. His eyes practically absorb me as I step in.

  “¡Es increíble!” His arms are about as big around as my waist, and I’m not embarrassed to say, he’s intimidating. So the fact that he stares at me like I’m about to eat him for lunch is a bit humorous.

  A faint mirrored reflection on the metal walls proves Rylin has fulfilled his promise. The white light from my skin shimmers, and my orange markings are just beginning to crawl to the surface. My red-orange eyes stare back at this stone-walled giant and his two companions, and I have to smile. Who would have ever thought little old Jude Gallagher would leave someone in awe?