Scorch Song (Firebloods Book 2) Page 29

  My tears make their appearance, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. I want to feel this; I want to understand his experiences. So I cling to him, letting his emotions pummel me from the inside out. Unloved. Ashamed. Used. Abandoned. I squeeze his hand.

  “You got more years with Dad than I did.” I argue. “That’s something.”

  His expression proves he doesn’t think that’s a fair trade. I sigh.

  “Don’t believe those lies you’re feeling. I see you, Jarron. You are smart, strong, brave. And as for being a freak?” I present myself with a wave of my hand the length of my upper body. “Join the club.”

  This gets a nice, big smile out of him. He may have been locked away his entire life with only tiny glimpses of freedom in the night hours years ago, but he’s watched a lot of television and read even more books—enough to make him aware of the outside world. He’s lived a thousand lifetimes inside those pages, experienced pain and happiness and grief through the lives of one character after another. In this way, he knows about living. But in the end, none of this makes up for what he missed. Our connected thoughts are silent a few minutes. We just sit quietly, being together in a way most brothers and sisters can’t. Sharing the same space in our heads.

  “I don’t want to stay here.”

  I perk up. Now we’re getting to the heart of things.

  “I know,” I answer.

  “They don’t understand me. They don’t know what I want, or what I need. And I don’t want or need the medication.”

  “Mom said it stopped working.”

  “Because I stopped taking it. I hide it under my tongue and then burn it up after the nurse leaves.”

  “Oh.” I lift a brow… and hand him a grin. “So you’re a rebel.” My grin is followed by a sincere frown. “Is that safe?”

  “Probably not. But… maybe with you, I can learn to control myself better… the way I did with Dad.”

  “Could you? With Dad?”

  He nods. “Most of the time.”

  I rub over his hand in a circular motion, not sure what I should say. Because I can’t stay here with him, and I can’t very well take him. Can I?

  I frown. Of course, I can’t. If he was seen, or heard, or… somehow happened to burn the house down, how would we explain it? He says he could control himself better with Dad’s help, but who am I? I can’t even control my own abilities. How am I supposed to help him control his?

  “I—we—Mom and I?” I pause, thinking. I don’t want to get his hopes up, but I don’t want to crush them either. The line between the two is suddenly so thin. “We need to work out all the logistics. We need a plan. But maybe—”

  “Rylin has a plan,” he interrupts. “Talk to him.”

  Rylin has a plan? I bite my lip, working hard to keep the thoughts and feelings about this at bay. “Did Rylin mention something to you?”

  “He may have. I like his plan.”

  So Rylin has a plan that he didn’t bother to discuss with me. That’s irritating. Just when I’m beginning to trust him. It’s always two steps forward, five steps back with that guy.

  Jarron senses something in the sudden rise of my blood. He cocks his head, honing in.

  “You don’t like Rylin, do you?”

  I shake my head with a small laugh. “It’s—complicated. A love/hate kind of thing. I don’t like that he didn’t tell me he had a plan.”

  “Oh.” He studies me. “Well, don’t interfere with it. Please.”

  He adds on “please” like an afterthought to soften his command, but he’s not asking my permission. And why should he? First, we just met, and secondly, he’s twenty years old. And he may have been locked away for most of his twenty years of life, but his mind is fine, capable. He can think for himself. So if Rylin has a plan, and Jarron agrees with it, who am I to stand up against it? But Rylin is going to fill me in on every single detail. This better not be just a renegade move to break my brother out of this facility for an ego trip. Or to prove a point. Or for some other ulterior reason. My distrust bells are ringing loud and clear.

  “I’ll talk to Rylin,” I assure Jarron. “If he has a plan, I want to be a part of it.”

  “I want you to be a part of it.” Jarron’s smile returns, and I once again see Dad in him. It takes all of the breath right out of my lungs. “I don’t want to do anything without you, Jude.”

  I swallow the lump that jumps into my throat. I’m about to cry. I don’t want to cry. My stomach hurts from too much crying today. So… I tackle another subject. The last one on my agenda.

  “Do you dream, Jarron?”

  He shifts his head, cocking it the other way.

  “All the time.”

  I nod. “Rylin had a hybrid sister who dreamed like us.”

  “He told me. The Contingent killed her.”

  I squint. “When did you two have time for all these conversations? I haven’t left this room since I got here.”

  “He batched the information and relayed it to me. You and I did the same thing… when we exchanged memories. Sort and share what you want. It’s faster that way.”

  “Really?”

  “Really?” He laughs. “Dad taught me. We practiced mind-batching a lot. It’s probably how he kept me from knowing about you. Among other things.”

  And now… it’s my turn to be jealous. Yes, I’ll admit it. I’m jealous of the brother who never lived a single day under the same roof as my dad. I was right there under his nose, and I missed out on so much because the truth was kept from me. Mind-batching? Boy, I have a lot to learn.

  “Who’s Kane?”

  I perk up, shocked to hear my brother say Kane’s name.

  “He’s my boyfriend. Why?”

  “I had a dream about him.”

  Okay, that’s just weird. I straighten, shifting my weight to the other hip.

  “How do you know it was Kane?”

  “I saw him in your head.” He fixes his eyes on me, full of caution. “He shouldn’t go to the hearing.”

  Talk about validation. And all of the sudden, those alarm bells explode in my pulse and run the course of my bloodstream.

  “Why not?” The question is cautious.

  “I dream things,” he shrugs. “And then, they happen.”

  I’m floored. Jarron flutters a wing, stretching it and easing it back to its place, but he never drops his gaze from my face.

  “You see the future in your dreams?” I can’t even believe the words buzzing through my head, but he nods.

  “A lot of the time. Yes.”

  “And… what’s going to happen at that hearing?”

  He blinks several times, warring with himself, and it’s evident by the guard that suddenly pops up into his thoughts that he’s questioning how much he should tell me. But I slide my hands along his arms, taking hold of his wrists, and I yank gently.

  “Jarron. Don’t keep anything from me that has to do with Kane. Ever.”

  He blinks again.

  “Okay.” One quick pause, and then, “They’re going to take his wings.”

  With a gasp, I loosen my grip on him and settle back, letting his words sink in.

  “Are—are you sure?” I can hardly breathe.

  With a nod, he shrugs up a humped shoulder, and a swirl of nausea hits me, blinding me with dizziness. Jarron’s eyes soften.

  “Don’t let him go.”

  “I don’t know if I can stop him.” Shaking my head, I stand, pacing. “Could you be wrong? Maybe it was just a dream after all?”

  “I’m not wrong. I dreamt Dad’s death. I dreamt about this place before I ever came here. I dreamt that Mom was going to desert me and try to drink herself to death.”

  “See there?” I spin on him. “Mom didn’t drink herself to death.”

  “Yet.”

  Damnit!

  I nervously chew on a fingernail, pacing the small room from wall to wall. I can’t let myself believe this. That makes it too real, and it isn’t. Something so horrific�
��so unimaginable—that couldn’t really happen. Not to Kane. Not to sweet, beautiful, caring Kane. Punishment or not, why would anybody want to hurt him like that? How could they even think it?

  Jarron lumbers to his feet and stops me in my tracks with a quick grab at my fingers. I focus on his blue, blue eyes, hoping they might drown out the image invading my head… of Kane staggering out of a room, two bloody stumps the only thing left of his wings.

  “I dreamt about you even though I didn’t know who you were for the longest time. Not until you decamouflaged. Then… I knew.” Jarron squeezes my hand. “I’m not wrong about this.”

  He’s not wrong. I sense it in the sheer tone of the words that ride my brain waves like a rocking boat trying to stay afloat in a storm. The Contingent is going to do this horrible thing, and it’s up to me to convince Kane of it. He loves me; he trusts me. But—and there’s a big “but” in my processing here. He’s loyal to his parents, and whether they agree or not, they seem to be fairly loyal to the order of the Contingent. So will Kane listen to me this time?

  I drop my face into my hands. This is a disaster.

  Twenty-seven

  Rylin’s plan is simple. And complicated. And everything in between.

  Apparently, there’s this place—in Vegas. A place for someone like Jarron. A place where he would be safe and whole and free to be himself. That’s all Rylin tells me. He says the less I know the better for now, which brings us full circle. Right back to the point where I have to decide once again if I trust him. Because this time, it isn’t just about me.

  The simple part of the plan? It’s the “knowing what we’re going to do” part. We’re going to get Jarron out of that cell. The hard part? Well, that’s the “how are we going to pull it off ” part. We have to get him from Portland to Vegas… incognito. And then, there’s the public safety concerns, which leads us right into the complicated part. Me.

  Don’t worry, the explanation is coming.

  My mom is wary of Rylin’s plan, well, because it’s Rylin’s plan. Nothing I say will convince her of his good intentions—not even after what he did to save her life. She remains adamantly stubborn. Her breakthrough with Jarron after so many years has made her hopeful that with therapy and an adjustment of his medications, things will start looking up. He may one day even be moved to a less secured room. I let her think what she wants, but honestly, she needs to start with herself, or none of it will matter. We have to make that happen.

  Besides, I know what Jarron wants, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen.

  There’s a doctor on staff at this place in Vegas. A human doctor. Rylin tells me she specializes in telepathy, dreams, and other functions of the Fireblood’s mind. And maybe this sounds crazy—because most things in my life these days sound crazy—but Rylin believes I could tremendously aid in Jarron’s transport with the help of this doctor. She could teach me how to use my mind talk, my thoughts, even my dreams to stabilize my brother. I’m willing to check it out. So while Mom stays on in Portland, allowing Dr. Samson to feed her his crap, I will go off grid.

  I’ve always wanted to say that.

  There’s one downside to the plan: it will take time. Which means leaving Jarron here just a little bit longer.

  Early Saturday morning, I take Frankie to meet the first Fireblood she ever saw in a photo. After her initial awe subsides, she throws her arms around Jarron’s neck, nearly toppling them both to the ground due to her fire retardant suit. And then, she pulls up a chair and pulls out her notebook to bombard him with every meticulously written question that Nancy Babbitt was unable to answer. Thankfully, Frankie is the queen of tact, so Jarron isn’t offended by anything she asks, which includes when he first realized he was a Fireblood and what caused him to ignite the way he did yesterday. He silently passes the answers to me to verbally relay to her.

  Eventually, she leaves us alone.

  “She’s nice.” He offers a smile and takes a seat on the new mattress that was delivered last night.

  “She is something.”

  I slink down next to him. Despite the fresh mattress, the stench of sulphur lingers in the air. The blackened bookshelf stares at us from the opposite wall, and I study it a minute before I stand, making my way over.

  “Are your books still readable?”

  “I think so.” He tosses me a shameful look, and we both laugh. “They probably won’t replace them again, so I’ll have to make it work.”

  I retrieve a copy of a book called Archangel and return to my seat. Every corner is burnt off, but the cover image in the middle is untouched. A female with beautiful, white wings slumps on the dusty ground, watching the sun set in the background. I flip through a few charred pages.

  “That’s one of my favorites,” Jarron says. “Genetically engineered angels.”

  “Oh, yeah? That sounds familiar.”

  He takes the book from me and examines the cover, admiring it as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen it. “Sometimes I like to pretend I’m an angel. They seem less complicated, soaring through the clouds, hiding in plain sight. Free.”

  “You will have all of that.” I curl my fingers into the crook of his elbow. “Not as an angel either. You were blessed to be born a Fireblood.”

  “I’ve never thought of it as a blessing.” Blue eyes pierce me. “Not once.”

  Full of sympathy, I smile, squeezing his arm. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

  His eyes drop to the cover again, then sets the book aside. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “I will be back,” I promise.

  With a smile, he cups my hand between both of his, and relief causes my sigh. I slump against him.

  “Baby sister.” He rests his cheek against me. The reference tugs at my heart. “Don’t take too long this time.”

  “Never.”

  I hug him—for a really long time. I hate this. I want to take him with me now. Just stuff him in a pocket and run. If only…

  An hour later, I let Manuel know through a headset that I’m ready to leave. I take Jarron’s hands one last time, leave a kiss on his cheek, and make for the door. A quick exit is the plan. Because I don’t want to cry.

  “Jude.”

  My name is thick and wobbly on his tongue, and all my resolve is busted the minute I turn.

  “I’ll—see—see you in—your d-d-dreams.”

  And… here they come. Stupid tears.

  “Every night,” I whisper.

  I give him a thumbs up, but that isn’t enough. So I lurch into his arms, squeeze him as tight as I can, and duck out of the cell with a myriad of promises dancing on the edges of my heart.

  And a crippling fear that I won’t be able to fulfill a single one.

  ***

  As promised, Kane is waiting for me on my front porch when Rylin pulls into the drive and parks next to the Kawasaki. I leap out of the car and into his arms practically in one motion. He laughs, hugging me close, habitually tucking his chin into the curve of my neck, and it feels so good. Musky vanilla swarms around us, strengthening when I bump my lips up against his for a sweet kiss.

  “Don’t mind us,” Frankie mumbles, dragging her bag out of the Explorer and popping the trunk to her Mustang parked on the curb. “We’ll just unpack the car ourselves while you two exchange germ-infested saliva.”

  Kane chuckles, plants another kiss on my lips, and swings around to face Rylin. He keeps a secure arm around my shoulders, sending his silent message: Rylin’s responsibility of me is over; he’ll take it from here.

  “Thanks for keeping her safe.” It may be an act, but Kane honestly sounds grateful.

  “It wasn’t easy, but I managed.” Rylin hands me a crooked smile, and Kane’s grip tightens. “I think we accomplished the mission, don’t you, Jude?”

  “I think we did. And then some.”

  I take a breath, eying Kane. Frankie slams the trunk of her car and makes her way over.

  “I’m heading home. I
’ll leave you Firebloods to your business.” With a curt nod of her head, she points at me. “But you will give me a full report.”

  “Sir, yes sir.” I salute her with a laugh.

  “I’m being completely serious, Jude,” she frowns. “I’m one of you now, remember?”

  “Okay.”

  Satisfied, she climbs into her car and spins away from the curb with a peal of rubber, leaving us in awkward silence.

  “So.” Kane swivels his eyes from me to Rylin and back again. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Yeah. My brother is amazing. He’s smart. Nothing like what I expected.”

  “So he’s not unstable?”

  “Not mentally. But—” I look to Rylin for support. “There was… an incident.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  “The explosive kind,” Rylin interjects. “I handled it.”

  Kane stiffens. “So he is dangerous.”

  “He can be,” I concede. “But once I got into his head, things calmed down. He just needed to talk. He doesn’t verbally communicate too well, so… he’s just… a little misunderstood.”

  I pull away from Kane and climb the steps, turning to look down at both of them. They stand side by side, contrasting each other in so many ways. But one thing is certain: I’ve seen the equally amazing side of both of them, and a sick feeling grows in my stomach as I remember the night I shared with Rylin learning more about myself. Things only Rylin could teach me. I shift my eyes away, focusing on the mailbox at the end of my drive, and clear my throat.

  “We’re going to get Jarron out of there.”

  Kane squints, surprised. “How?”

  “Very carefully,” Rylin says.

  “You’re serious?” Kane offers a half-crooked disbelieving smile as he says it.

  “Yes. I know of a safe house of sorts in Vegas,” Rylin begins. “A place where Jarron will be accepted and —”

  “A safe house.” Kane’s voice cuts in, hard. “You mean a Renegade camp.”

  “Does that matter? It’s a place full of people who can help.”

  “Help with what?”