Singe Read online

“Okay.” That sounds reasonable. “So you’ve studied dreams in other hybrids?”

  “We have.” Joshua says, rubbing at his short beard. “But not to the level we’d like.”

  “And not one of them could have passed as human or Fireblood,” Petra interjects. “All of them were stuck in the middle somewhere. You’ve been blessed with the best of both worlds, and we think this might contribute to your dreams.”

  Jarron slips into my thoughts, but it’s Clara I mention.

  “Did you work with Rylin’s sister?”

  The doctors exchange another glance.

  “We flew to Ireland to see her on Sean McDowell’s request.” Petra furrows her brows, her voice tearing up. “She was the first hybrid we tried to stabilize in hopes to bring her here. We had to abandon the mission once the Contingent caught wind of her existence.”

  “We got her killed,” Joshua interjects, moving a nearly indistinguishable step closer to Petra’s side, but he doesn’t balk as he admits it. “And the whole process nearly exposed us. You’re the first we’ve allowed in since, and only because you were able to walk in undetected.”

  “Rylin says your ability reminds him of his sister.” Petra picks up a post-it pad and taps it against her palm. It’s pink with hearts all over it. One of the least harsh items in this lab.

  “He’s told me,” I admit. “And I don’t seem to be any better with them.”

  I say this a little shamefully. Because I’d really like to be able to control one thing about my life. You’d think the inside of my head was fair game.

  “Clara was very powerful,” Petra continues. “The readings of her brainwaves on our mobile machines were genius level. She dreamed of future events, but due to her weak physical and mental capacities, she was too unstable to control herself, negating her extrasensory ability altogether.”

  “Like my brother.” I say it quietly, not really wanting to commit to the comment.

  “Yes,” Petra whispers. “Which is all the more reason we need to get him moved here.”

  “Yes.”

  It grows quiet as the three of us weigh our own goals. Petra squints, assessing me like she did first thing this morning. Like she’s measuring my worth, jotting down notes on her own mental clipboard. I shift uneasily, run my sweaty hands nervously down the front of my jeans. Joshua guards his own clipboard like his life depends on it, and Kane’s words sting me.

  In all honesty, I don’t know these people. Are they really for me or is all of this kind attentiveness a ploy to earn my trust and catch me off guard?

  “Working with us could be dangerous.” Joshua’s voice cuts right through my nerves, hitting the spot I was just considering. An involuntary tremble captures me. “With that on the table, are you still willing to follow through with dream therapy?”

  Petra’s face beams with expectancy—as if she’s the one who asked the question. I swallow hard. This is clearly a test, and I have a sneaky suspicion that failure is obsolete. There’s no right or wrong answer. That’s not why he asks. They both want to know if I’m a risk taker. If I have the guts to do what needs to be done before they invest in me.

  So they’re actually the ones with their guards up, and Clara consumes my thoughts. The lab’s involvement exposed her, and now I know this. But she wasn’t here in this fortified facility, which makes my chances better. This is what I tell myself. For my brother’s sake, it has to be true.

  The white machines with their bundles of cords draping from the backings hum like a chorus accompanying my words. I focus on the red and yellow and black strands for a second, processing my thoughts.

  “My life has never been what I thought it was, but I didn’t know what I was lacking either. When Kane broke the news, I sort of came to life.” I take a couple of steps, wringing my hands, fighting the nerves. Everything in me wants to stop talking—to stop spilling my unsolicited emotions all over the floor in front of two strangers, but I can’t. My words keep flowing out. “And when my brother connected us through mind-batching, I lived an entire lifetime with him in a few seconds. In a single heartbeat, it was like I’d missed nothing and everything all at the same time.”

  Petra’s cheeks grow red, empathy staring at me from her dark brown eyes. Her shoulders sag a little as my story touches her. The story of a lost Fireblood who’s found her way home. The orange markings on my skin have grown darker. I clench a fist, tracing the branching lines of fire with my thumb.

  “My point is I’ve always had fire flowing through my blood and never knew it, so I risked nothing. And I have nothing to give that doesn’t already belong to someone else. My parents, Kane, his family… they were the ones to make sacrifices over the last seventeen years so that I could be here today… to make things right for my brother.” I’ve set off an avalanche, but I’m not finished. “Rylin has high hopes that I can make a difference because of it, and I want to believe he’s right. So I guess the short version is, yes. I am willing.”

  Apparently, my speech hits the spot. Joshua’s mouth takes a moment to drop open a little. And when Petra, finally speaks, there’s a definitive tear in her voice.

  “You’re very brave, Jude.” She croaks with emotion.

  “It’s a harsh world,” I don’t want any credit for being honest. “And I’m not so sure about how brave I am. I just know it’s required.”

  “Well, then…” She drops the post-it and takes my hand. “We’d best get to work.”

  Five

  After this, I get a crash course in Hybrid Dreaming 101. The theory holds that all hybrids dream, but not all are capable of “interfacing” with other Firebloods. That’s the term Joshua uses to describe my ability to let Kane and Rylin into my dreams. It’s a very complex action that happens at the exact moment that my body enters REM sleep, a stage that Firebloods don’t possess. He explains that this is the only window, and if I don’t send the invite then, no one gets in.

  Humans can interface with Firebloods as well, but only highly sensitive humans acutely aware of their consciousness during REM. My mom, for example. But most people don’t even realize that they’ve just invited a Fireblood into their heads. So to them, a dream about the camouflaged hunk who sits next to them in History is just that. A very vivid dream.

  As for Firebloods, they don’t need to be sleeping at all to enter someone’s dream, although it’s easier if they are at least relaxed. They “feel” the invite, and can allow their consciousness to accept it. A mild trance-like state with full functioning ability at the same time follows. It’s pretty wild.

  This moves us to part two: controlling the dream. See, humans can’t do this. Not at all. Everything that happens to them in sleep is out of their hands. But for someone like me…

  For someone like me, a dream is the world at my fingertips.

  Petra is itching to test this. The catch? It will be physically and mentally trying. Then again, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks immersed in the secret life of Firebloods. What isn’t trying these days?

  Phase one: preliminary physical testing, which begins with a physical exam and bloodwork to ensure I’m healthy.

  Petra leaves me to change in a small examination room. It contains nothing more than a chair, an examination table, a rolling tray of medical utensils, and a couple of machines that stare at me blank-faced at the moment. I clutch the small hospital gown. It’s freezing in here, and she expects me to put this on?

  I’m not too sure how I feel about phase one, mostly because I don’t like the idea of someone poking and prodding and probing me with who knows what kinds of instruments. I sneak a peek at the assortment of utensils on the tray. I have no idea what any of them are for, but they don’t look fun.

  I’d love to text Kane. To let him know I’m down here in the “rat maze” but obviously, we left our phones in Carson City. We also left our laptops, iPads, and anything else that could potentially be used to track us to this very spot. It’s a strange feeling being so disconnected from the world. If by some
miracle my mom bothered to contact me, she’d find nothing. I’ve vanished without a trace.

  Like him, Kane’s parents concern me more. They’ll be angry at first before they start to worry. And they will worry. Gema will likely be frantic; she’ll think the worst when she doesn’t find Kane in his bed. She’ll call me, then the rest of the gang one by one, and finally my mom, just like Kane said. Eventually they’ll arrive at the real truth: that Kane ditched the hearing and took me with him, leaving his parents to clean up his mess.

  She’ll only be wrong about one thing: It was me who dragged Kane away.

  I hate to think it, but I’m not sure we’re going to see our parents again. At this point, with the Contingent’s judgment hanging in the balance, we can’t make any predictions, and we can’t contact them. All we can do is wait for the verdict. And hope.

  The hearing is only hours away now, and I give off an involuntary shiver and tuck the whole ordeal away inside me.

  I kick off my shoes and undress quickly, leaving my socks on. Still, the floor is ice cold on my soles, and the hospital gown with its lovely open back doesn’t help. Why in the world do places where you’re asked to prance around half-naked always feel like the North Pole? I hop up onto the table just as Petra knocks.

  “Come in.”

  I adjust the gown, feeling super self-conscious as the door creaks open and Petra peers around it, blinking at me.

  “Wow.” She eases the door closed, a slight surprise in her voice as she takes in the whole of me. “You’re really unfolding there.”

  I examine the back of my hand, my eyes trailing up my forearm. The lights are dimmed, and my skin has slowly illuminated more deeply each half hour. Even my orange veins are visible lava lines.

  “I guess so.” I ease into a grin.

  “Are you all set for this?”

  “Sure.” I cross my ankles, tense. “What now?”

  “We need to take your vitals.” She has one hand tucked into the pocket of a white lab coat, a stethoscope looped around her neck, and a clipboard clamped against her chest. “Blood pressure, temperature, heartrate, lung capacity. The usual. I want to make doubly sure you’re healthy and capable of handling the experimentation we have in mind.”

  I swallow. “What kind of experimentation are we talking about, exactly?”

  “Well, we’ll put you to sleep intravenously, and monitor your brain activity while you’re under.” She drops the clipboard onto the tray and lays her hands on the edge of the table. A large diamond solitaire glints at me from her left ring finger. “Once we understand how you dream and how you connect to others subconsciously, including interaction with your brother, we’ll have a better idea of how to proceed.”

  “O…kay.” The tension edges off just a smidge.

  “Now we know that you’re different,” she continues. That’s a palpable statement. “We know that your vitals will not register as fully human, but we also know that you won’t read as a full breed Fireblood either. I expect you’ll be somewhere in between, perhaps more heavily human based on your physicality. But we shall see.” She runs a warm hand the length of my arm. “Don’t worry, Jude. You’re in good hands. And I think you’re enough of a Fireblood to sustain my procedures.”

  “Let’s hope,” I concede. “Because I really want to get my brother here as soon as possible.”

  “As do I.” She clasps her hands together. “Okay. Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll begin.”

  For the rest of the morning, I feel like one of those test monkeys I’ve seen in movies. The blank-faced machines come to life with a whirring hum, and I’m hooked up to both. The EKG machine begins its reading, frantically scratching out lightening shaped lines and spitting them onto a roll of paper that feeds out of the side. The other machine is some sort of all-inclusive gadget used to monitor everything from how many breaths I take each minute to the activity of my brainwaves, which are connected in some way I’ve never been inclined to think about.

  “Are you comfortable?” Petra settles a thin sheet over my legs. “You’re going to be here a while.”

  “It’s a little cold in here.”

  “Really?” Her dark brows furrow together into one mass. “You’re cold?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s like a freezer in here.”

  “Interesting.” She taps her lip.

  “Why do you say that?” My heartbeat kicks up a notch, thinking the worst.

  “Your body temperature is registering at 103. Do you know what it usually is in your natural form?”

  I know. Kane and I took my temperature last week out of curiosity.

  “It was one-hundred and eight, last time I checked,” I say.

  “Well, that explains it.” She adjusts a thermostat on the opposite wall. “We thought you’d be more comfortable at a cooler room temperature, but I imagine your heat fluctuates.” She indicates my brightened skin. “We’ll continue to monitor this to get an average reading. Nothing to worry about.”

  She offers me a hand, bracing me to pull up to a sitting position, and then proceeds to listen to my heartbeat through her stethoscope.

  “Breathe in for me.” I do. She presses the cool instrument to my back. It’s freezing too, and I jump a little. She moves it to another point. “Again.”

  Through the thin gown, she listens at several other marks, and satisfied, she drapes the scope around her neck and pauses in front of me to run her fingers along my glands just under my jawline.

  “Your heartbeat sounds very human,” she smiles.

  An occasional beep and the scratchy sounds of the scanning needle whispering across paper are the only sounds after this, and in the quiet, I attempt to read Petra. She’s got a pretty good poker face. She’s at least mid-forties, her skin taut, barely distinguishable laugh lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes. Her tone is a light warm brown, her features mostly Indian. She turns my head, using a lighted instrument to check my ears.

  “Your brother is lucky to have you, you know?”

  “I hope that’s true.” I think of the last time I saw him, and all my nerves begin a full gallop again. This is a big job, and I can’t fail. “I haven’t been much help to him at all, honestly.”

  “But you will be.” She drops the instrument back into her pocket and takes another look at the monitor.

  The room is warming up nicely. I concentrate on my swinging, socked feet for a moment while the doctor tears off a section of pages from my brain scan and studies them. Nothing seems to alarm her, thankfully. That was my biggest fear at being tied up to all of these machines. That we would inevitably find a tumor or a blood clot or some other horrible ailment. So far so good.

  “Have you always known about Firebloods?”

  It’s as good a time as any to broach the topic, so I dive right in. Plus, Frankie would kill me if she knew I was locked in a room with Amir Ademov’s granddaughter and didn’t have the sense to get an interview.

  “Not always,” she answers. “My grandfather spent most of his time traveling to various countries, leaving my grandmother in London to raise their three children, sending money each week. My father and he were not close, and I’m not certain Father knew of my grandfather’s work. He never expressed it to me.” She scoops up a special type of thermometer and rolls it across my forehead. It beeps once. “You’re temperature is up a degree.”

  “He had to have known,” I argue, ignoring her comment about my temperature. “Your grandfather’s exploits made the paper a time or two.”

  “Yes.” She turns soft at a memory that I can’t see. “But Grandfather was the master of discretion. Most of those stories were unfounded, and he was written off as a dreamer.” She leans in confidentially. “Nobody believed he’d actually found the Phoenix, let alone captured it long enough to extract its blood.”

  She grapples with a gold chain around her neck and pulls a charm free from the folds of her lab coat, angling it so that I have a clear view. It’s a small vial of dark purplish liqui
d. My jaw falls open.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s the last of the Phoenix blood my grandfather collected, then yes.” She toys with it a moment before safely tucking it away again. “He gave it to me just before he died.”

  “Is that when you learned about Firebloods?”

  “No. I was twelve the first time Grandfather took me to his lab.”

  “The lab in Dublin?” That can’t be right. “I read that the backers pulled out, and the project ended.”

  “Obviously, it didn’t.” She waves that notion off, pressing a couple of buttons on the EKG machine before facing me. “Dublin held the original lab, and yes, it disappeared. But the project is still going strong. It simply went underground to avoid the hungry greed of the authorities. Volunteers did not entrust their lives to my grandfather just so they could be pawns in the hands of the government, and that isn’t why my grandfather did this. He was a man of adventure. Imagination. A scientific artist.” Her voice looms with pride. “He did things to prove to himself that he could.”

  Well, isn’t that nifty? His aspirations created an entire species that has to keep just as hidden as his underground labs. All because he wanted to see if he could do it. Don’t get me wrong, being a Fireblood is amazing. But seriously, he should have put some thought into this wild idea.

  “After Dublin, Grandfather planted labs in various places, hence the reason for his frequent travels. The first lab was relocated to Galway. Others were set up all over the world, including this one here in Vegas. This lab was established long before the casino was built on top of it.”

  “Wow. So you first came here when you were twelve?”

  “Not here.” She takes a seat on a rolling stool and wheels in close. “My grandmother’s family was originally from India. The family took a holiday there every summer. My father met my mother at a wedding in Mumbai when he was twenty-three. He moved her back to London after their marriage, and so the trips to Mumbai continued for my whole growing up life.” She wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm for the third time today and pumps vigorously. “The first lab I ever saw was the one in Mumbai. In fact, the very first Fireblood baby was born in that lab that summer. After experiencing that miracle, I was sold.”