Scorch Song (Firebloods Book 2) Read online

  “This is my daughter, Manuel.” Mom plants herself beside me, her hand at the small of my back. I hold still, giving Manuel a minute to swallow the clear shock holding his tongue. I guess nobody told him I was coming. Or that I existed. “And Jude, this is Manuel, and the space monsters here are Cissy and Bryan. They’ll be accompanying us into the cell.”

  Bryan… or Cissy… it’s hard to say, raises an arm in greeting. I don’t miss the stun guns hanging at their sides.

  “This is your daughter?” Manuel’s accent is thick. He points a rude finger at me. “Is she… dangerous?”

  His fists clench into balls, his way of arming himself for a fight. I exchange a glance with Mom, and I can’t help it; I laugh.

  “Not only am I not dangerous…” I load up on sarcasm. “But I can answer my own questions. Imagine that?”

  While Manuel continues to gawk, Dr. Samson nods toward the suits. Mom has already selected one and dropped onto a bench to remove her shoes.

  “You’ll need to put on a fire retardant suit.”

  My raised eyebrows cast just enough suspense for him to give me another one of those uncomfortable smiles. Wow. I didn’t realize the lengths it would take for a visit with my brother.

  “I think I’m good.” I take my hair, twist it up, and slide the rubber band off my wrist to hold the messy bun into place. That’s as suited up as I plan to get. Dr. Samson assesses me.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you go in there without it. That would be a liability.”

  “I’m pretty sure I won’t need it.”

  I slink out of my shoulder bag and drop it to the floor next to the bench. Dr. Samson looks to Mom for verification, which once again makes me laugh. How would she know?

  “We’re not going to sue you Dr. Samson, if that’s what you’re worried about,” my mom interjects. “I have faith in my daughter. If she says she doesn’t need the fire retardant suit, then she probably doesn’t.”

  At a loss, he runs a hand through his thinning, grayish hair. Clearly, he’s never been faced with this dilemma. I mean, everyone puts on a suit. Soon, Mom is swallowed up in hers. She struggles to fasten the masked hood into place until Manuel steps in to help. I can barely see her face through the small glassed opening. Dr. Samson dons a headset with a microphone curled around the side of his cheek to his mouth.

  “Can you hear me, Ellen?”

  Mom hands him a thick-gloved thumbs up, then turns toward me.

  “I’ll send for you in a few minutes.” Her voice is muffled and faint, covering up her already sluggish state. She turns and blends right in with the other two staff members in their bulking, over-sized suits.

  The opening and closing of the door is quick, and Mom, Bryan, and Cissy disappear inside. Everything becomes surreal then, like this is some B-level space movie where the astronauts find a mysterious door with light behind it that turns out to be some kind of ancient wormhole. They vanish through it never to be heard of again. I shake the thought away. Nope. My mom is coming back. She always does.

  I sink onto the bench to wait, and Dr. Samson drops into one of the rolling chairs and wheels it up to me—right up close where his knees are a half inch from mine. He tips the mic upward and away from his lips to speak to me.

  “Your mother says you just recently learned of your condition.”

  I wish he’d stop referring to it as a “condition.” I don’t answer him.

  “Have you noticed any changes in emotion since the revelation? Depression? Anxiety? Any other warning signs that you may need treatment of some sort?”

  Treatment?

  “I’m not an experiment, Dr. Samson.” I adjust, moving over slightly to get away from him. “I’m just a girl who happens to only be half human. That doesn’t make me a mental case for you to study.”

  “Of course. It’s just that I’ve never seen anything like you.” He rubs at the few whiskers lining his chin in a neatly shaved jawline arc.

  “You’ve seen my brother,” I argue.

  “True, but he is far from fully functional. You, on the other hand, are one hell of a paranormal being. Human, but not.”

  Oh, if only he knew. I bet this guy would sell his soul to get a glimpse of Kane or Rylin. I peer at him, disgust lining my gut and manifesting on my face. How much would he be willing to pay me to hand one of them over?

  “May I?” His sweaty hand penetrates my white hot skin. I jerk away; his smile sharpens, revealing his pointed canines. Too pointed, in my opinion, and all of Frankie’s stories of vampires flash through my head.

  But he’s not a vampire. He’s too ordinary for that. Slimy, but ordinary.

  “You have to tell me what this feels like.” He watches the orange markings fluctuate, fading then resurfacing every few seconds to the tune of my heartbeat. “Does it hurt? I’ve always wondered.”

  “No.”

  “Fascinating.” He leans away, propping a hand under his chin and crossing his legs. “Jarron has been kept well-medicated, but even without it, he is not capable of communicating much.” I narrow my eyes at this statement. “I’ve hardly been able to ascertain what the inner workings of a Fireblood really entail. I’d love to do a full analysis of your psyche. And, of course, your physical condition. I’m sure the two are interlinked.” He leans in, whispering confidentially. “You just might be the newest medical phenomenon. I see fame in our future.”

  I stare at him, catch a whiff of that peppermint on his breath. Did he just imply that he wants to experiment on me and gain credit for his findings? And therein lies the reason the Firebloods have to remain hidden. This is what humanity would do to us.

  “No, thanks.” I scoot across the bench and stand just out of his reach. How in the world could my mom trust this sleeze ball? How could Dr. Melmack have recommended him? Was he literally their only option in all of the fifty states? Ugh.

  I glance at the metal door, wishing Mom would hurry it up a little. Manuel sits at the desk, playing Solitaire with a deck of cards and pretending not to listen. But even with his own headset crowning his dark head, I can tell he’s heard every word. One curious flick of his eyes my way is all the proof I need.

  I’m suddenly very wary of this entire situation. I don’t know these people, and as nice as the facility is, I think in her desperation, Mom made some serious mistakes by placing my brother in this doctor’s care.

  “Can you hear my mom?” I ask.

  “The coms work like walkie-talkies.” Dr. Samson flips the mic back into place at his lips and presses a small button on the side of the headset. “Everything all right in there?” A pause. He nods. “Bryan says so far so good.”

  I shove my hands into my pockets and lean against the wall. Dr. Samson studies me.

  “You are truly incredible, Jude. Intelligent, mysterious. Clearly, you have some Fireblood power.” He gestures to my glowing form. “I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to explore further. With your mother’s permission, of course.”

  With Mom’s permission. Right. I like how he threw that in at the last minute. He obviously has no idea who I am, or who my mom is. If he did, he never would have announced his desire to “explore” me. It’ll never happen.

  Ignoring him, I move to Jarron’s cell and place a flat palm against the door. It’s hot. Too hot. Concern flushes through me.

  “Is this—”

  My question is interrupted by a loud thump that reverberates against my hand, sending a solid vibration up my arm. I bounce backwards.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  Dr. Samson presses the button on his headset. “Bryan? Cissy? Can you hear me?”

  No response. He stands and joins me, barely touching a fingertip to the door before he snaps it away with a hiss of agony. The tip of his finger swells with an immediate blister, and a look of sheer, white panic overtakes him.

  “It’s happening again.”

  “What’s—”

  A glaring siren peals to life, cutting off my words and ushering in a
barrage of flashing red lights overhead. I smash my hands over my ears and sink low, wide eyes glued to the door that separates me from the only two members of my family.

  Something is seriously wrong.

  Twenty-five

  It takes Dr. Samson two seconds to recover once the sirens go off. Immediately, he abandons the headset. He and Manuel scramble for the fire retardant suits, practically tripping over themselves to get into them. I watch, so grateful that they seem to have a plan to get my Mom out of there. I stand perfectly still, heart pounding. Neither one of them says a word—not to me, not to each other. The moment has been rehearsed a time or two; this is evident. Dr. Samson presses his palm against a hidden panel in the wall, and a tiny, metal door swings open, revealing another keypad. He punches in a number, and a portion of the opposite wall slides open. A wall—not the door to Jarron’s cell.

  “We must hurry!” he yells. He shoves a fire retardant suit into my hands. “Put this on, Jude. Please.”

  Manuel doesn’t have to be asked twice. He lumbers through the opening in the wall and disappears while Dr. Samson’s frantic gaze rests on me. He reaches for my elbow; I shift out of his way, flinging the suit at him.

  “What is this? Are you leaving?” The shocked anger in my voice matches the irritating scream of the sirens. “My mom is in there!”

  “We’re not leaving!” He rests his masked hood against his hip. “We’re taking cover!”

  Panic shudders through my every fiber. This is bad. Really, really bad.

  “What’s happening?” I manage.

  “It appears your brother has reached the pinnacle of his heat register again! It happened once before when he first arrived!” He pauses, appearing to question whether what he has to say next will be productive. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but everyone in that cell is more than likely dead! The intercom is down! The building will be evacuated in the guise of a fire drill, and we will wait it out in here until the danger passes!” He waves toward the opening, but even if I intended to walk through it, I can’t. I can’t move as his words penetrate.

  Is he serious? He truly believes the best resolution is to go under shelter and wait to see if there are any survivors when it’s said and done? I have never wanted to slap someone so hard in all my life. My mouth goes dry, and my skin simmers deeper—a white hot blaze driven by a mixture of fear and heartache at the thought of losing my family in one fell swoop. Of truly being an orphan. Of feeling helpless to do anything about it. But it takes one thought to flip the coin, and then, I’m just pissed. I clench my fists as an involuntary shaking overtakes me, burning from the inside out with emotional fire.

  “Dr. Samson, you open that door!” I point, a fierce anger rising up inside me. “Open that door now!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jude! I’m sorry!” He drops the suit at my feet and edges to the opening, peering back at me. “This is your last chance to come with me!”

  At a complete loss, I shake my head at his crassness. He announces the possibility of my mother’s death like it’s just an ordinary fact. An item removed from a menu. A book missing from a library’s bookshelf.

  “Open the door!” Clenched fists, I scream at him from the top of my lungs. I rush him, slamming my fists into his chest. He feels nothing through the thick fire retardant suit, but the momentum shoves him right through the wall’s opening.

  “I’m sorry, Jude.”

  His eyes pierce me with one last look, he slips the helmet over his head, and the wall slides closed.

  And I’m alone.

  “No.” The whisper in my head is loud. “Dr. Samson!”

  With my hands, I search the wall he entered, looking for a seam. Looking for the tiny panel that hides the keypad. But it’s no use. He’s gone.

  “Dr. Samson!”

  Frantic, I turn back to Jarron’s door, tapping random numbers into the keypad next to it to no avail. I bang my fist against the door once more before I grab up the headset and press the button.

  “Mom? Mom can you hear me? Are you all right?” Nothing but static answers. I peel the headset off and throw it against the wall. I thrust against the searing door with all my weight, thinking in my foolish desperation that I might actually be able to pry it open. There’s no way. It’s a thick, metal door controlled by a code. A few numbers is all that separates me from them. Nausea rides in.

  “Mom!”

  My voice squeaks with desperation, and I pound on the door until my fists pulse with painful throbbing. The heat of my own flesh sears me to the very core, burning up the room and battering me with beaded drops of sweat. But it’s no use, and I know it; I can’t get through that door. So the tears come on hard, flowing in hot rivers, and I can’t think straight. I pull at my hair and crumple to my knees on the hard tiled floor, face to the ground and an ache replacing my initial fear. Is this really it? Is this how my story ends?

  This can’t be right.

  “Jude!”

  My name blaring inside my head catches me off guard. I jerk up, scanning.

  “Jude, can you hear me?”

  Standing, I spin a full circle.

  “Jude, talk to me so I can locate you.”

  “Rylin?”

  My heart gives a little leap of joy. Never in my life have I been so happy to hear his Jezik invading my thoughts.

  “I’m here! Rylin, I’m here. Can you find me?”

  “Yes. Just keep talking.”

  “Okay. Mom is trapped inside the cell with Jarron. He’s going to explode or something. I don’t know. The doctor left. We have to get her out of there.”

  “I’m coming. Hold on.”

  A banging at the outer door signals his arrival, but as hard as I try, I can’t open it from the inside. There’s isn’t even a handle.

  “Rylin? I’m locked in.”

  “Just a minute.”

  The sirens grate on the ends of my nerves, and the flashing red lights only serve to strengthen my panic. I press against the outer door just as an influx of heat surges through it, burning my hands with its sweet heat. Brightness follows, filling up the entire tiny room with an orange blaze that dances on the metal walls. I edge back a pace, and Rylin manifests, pulling his fiery self through the door. He stands tall and fully flared, every inch in flames, and I just want to hug him, but he doesn’t address me at all. He makes a beeline for the door to Jarron’s cell, running his hands across it, examining it.

  “Fireproof,” he says.

  “I know.” I wring my hands, worry defining every nerve. “What do we do?”

  He turns, planting his burning eyes on me, and for a split second, he says nothing. And then…

  “You won’t like it.”

  “Who cares? We do whatever we have to do to get Mom out of that room, do you hear me?”

  He pauses, hesitant. What is he waiting for? I shove him hard in the chest, jarring him into revealing the plan.

  “What?”

  “We have to link.”

  He says it so matter-of-factly that I freeze. Even my blinking pauses.

  “What?” I leave our minds to yell the word above the sirens.

  “It’s the only way!” he hollers. “We’re stronger together! If we link, we may be able to get through that door and into your brother’s head!”

  I’m fiercely shaking my own head before he finishes the sentence. “There has to be another way!”

  “There isn’t, Jude.” He reverts to Jezik and slides back into my thoughts. There’s a desperation in him that tugs at me. “Regardless of what you may know so far in your limited knowledge, our mantras are not just powerful love songs or pretty lullabies; they’re the power to everything we are. Linked, we can be unstoppable. I can try to go in alone, but he wouldn’t recognize me. He wouldn’t trust me.”

  “He doesn’t know me either,” I counter.

  “Yes, he does.” He squeezes my fingers. “He’s seen you in your dreams. He’ll respond to you.”

  I clutch at
my stomach as the thought of what I’m about to do pummels me. What’s worse, I’m going to do it. I’m going to link with Rylin McDowell, and I don’t like how that makes me feel. I tell myself Kane will understand, but will he? When it’s done, and there’s no going back, will he be able to accept that?

  I shake myself loose from those thoughts. I can’t go there. Not now. We’re wasting time, and I don’t know why I’m even trying to reason it out. I have to do whatever it takes to save my mom. This moment, right here… it’s my only priority. So I take a deep breath, swallow my hesitation, and with a bold nod, cross the forbidden line.

  Rylin takes hold of both of my hands.

  “Call up your mantra.”

  That’s not a difficult request at all. I’m fully decamouflaged, skin buzzing with heat and light, and my mantra has been waiting for me to call to it. In an instant, it floods my brain, triggering all my senses. It’s loud and soft at the same time, pounding and whispering. It burns hot, hotter than it ever has before, and I grasp hold of it and sink into the rhythm, wrapping myself inside it like a blanket.

  As for Rylin, he doesn’t ease in; he dives in full force, sending his familiar song to dance right up next to mine. It sears me, bringing up all the memories of my childhood that connect us. Hazel eyes finding mine across the classroom. A baseball rolling over into my yard. His laugh and the sudden absence of his song that he took with him when he moved away. The very first mantra I ever recall hearing, and now, bits of it become a part of my own. He holds it there with mine, waiting.

  “It’s your move,” he says.

  My move. My stomach lurches, but with one deep breath, I grasp hold of his song and pull it into me. Immediately, it interweaves, playing its harmony in sync with my melody. Fire scorches, melding us together as one unit, and when Rylin flares deeper, unfurling his blazing wings to crash against the walls of the room, his power surges through me as if it were my own, encasing my bones, boiling my blood, tightening my muscles. We are one in every way.