Firelight

20

We’re almost home when Mom makes her big announcement.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

I’m stunned for a moment, actually thinking she might mean we all will be leaving tomorrow. Then I remember. She’s going to sell a gem. The glowing amber. Frozen fire.

I lean forward to look at her, straining to see for myself if she’s serious.

How can she do it? How can she pretend she’s not taking away a piece of me, tearing off a bit of my heart and selling it to someone who thinks it’s just a chunk of rock? Valuable, but lifeless. Dead.

“First thing tomorrow morning. You’ll have to take the bus. I plan to be back in time to pick you up Friday afternoon. I’ve told Mrs. Hennessey already and she’ll check in on both you guys.”

A feeling starts in my belly, a twisting dread…the same way I felt years ago when Severin arrived at our door to tell us Dad was missing.

“Mrs. Hennessey?” Tamra wrinkles her nose. Since she doesn’t ask why Mom’s leaving, clearly she already knows. And doesn’t care. Only I care. Only I feel sick at the thought….

“Where are you going?” I demand, needing to know. Like it will somehow matter. Like maybe, someday, I can find the stone and save it from being lost into perpetuity.

Mom is silent.

“Where are you going to sell it?” I press.

“This is so great,” Tamra says, digging for something in her backpack and asking with an idleness that sets my teeth on edge, “Can we move? But stay in the same school zone, of course. Oh, and how about cell phones? I think we’re the only two in the entire school who don’t—”

“Settle down, Tam. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Mom pats her knee. “This is just to ease some of the strain. We’re not moving yet. This should help buy you girls some new clothes…cheer supplies if you make the squad. And maybe I can ease up on my shifts. Stay home a couple nights. I miss my girls. Maybe”—she slides us both a warm look, her eyes bright, shining with promise—“maybe I’ll even see about getting you two a car.”

Tam squeals. Flies across the seat to strangle Mom in a hug as she drives.

A car? A family gem for a car? A hunk of machinery that will last maybe a decade? Hardly a fair trade. I stare out the window, too outraged. Hot emotion thickens my throat, moving me beyond speech.

The car will be for Tamra, of course. Tam wasn’t kidding before about me not driving. I can’t. The world would be safer with a toddler behind the wheel.

Blinking burning eyes, I watch the yards fly past. All rock and strategically arranged boulders. Cacti, sleeping bougainvillea, and desert sage. Flowing ribbons of heat dance above the sun-bleached asphalt.

“I need you girls to promise to behave, check in with Mrs. Hennessey. Let her know if you need anything. I’ll call every day.”

“Yes! Anything!” The seat springs protest my sister’s bouncing.

“Jacinda?” Mom says my name from the front seat. Like she’s waiting. Expecting something from me.

It’s no use arguing with her. Her mind is made up. But so is mine. Something has to give. Break loose. And it’s going to be me.

They’re too happy here, settled, well on their way to making the life they’ve always wanted. They don’t want to leave. And I can’t stay.

“Whatever,” I choke out — vague enough to satisfy her, I hope. For a moment I feel winded, like the air has been punched from my chest.

Once Dad took us to an amusement park in Oregon. One of those brief getaway vacations from the pride Mom always made a point to plan. Back when Tamra and I were simply sisters whose chief complaint with each other revolved around sharing toys. Before I ever manifested. I plummeted twenty stories on a drop ride. Totally helpless to gravity. Unable to fly, to save myself…

I feel that same helpless terror now. Because nothing I say will divert Mom off her present course. Nothing will make her realize what she’s doing to me.

I’m falling.

And this time, nothing will save me. No mechanical device will work its wonder and jerk me back at the last minute.

But she does realize, a small voice whispers through me. That’s why she’s doing it. That’s why she brought you here. She wants me to hit ground.

Later that night, I find Mom packing in her room. She’s dressed for work, planning to leave after her shift ends. The stainless steel box sits on her bed, near her half-packed duffel. Alarm stabs my heart at the sight of it. “You’re not selling them all?” I demand.

She looks up, folding a shirt. “No.” She resumes packing, her movements measured, slow.

I nod, relieved, inch toward the lockbox. My palms tingle, itching to open it. “Can I see it?”

She sighs. “Don’t do this to yourself, Jacinda. Just forget about it.”

“I can’t.” I touch the lid, stroke it. My throat aches. “Just show me. One last time.”

She shakes her head. “You’re determined to make this hard on yourself.”

“Show me.”

She digs in her pocket, her movements angry, her voice a low mutter as she brandishes the key. Unlocking the box, she flings back the lid.

I suck in a breath at the instant glow of color.

Lilting voices surround me. Whisper-soft, they embrace me, remind me of my true nature, slowly fading from this world. But not as fast as Mom thinks. Not with Will around. He’s probably the only reason my draki still lives. In this desert, without gems, without him, I’m doomed. Like Will’s kiss, the stones reach my core…resuscitate me. My skin snaps. Trembles.

One stone reaches me over the others. I close my eyes, absorbing the thread of fresh energy.

“Which one?” I whisper, opening my eyes, but already suspecting.

She lifts the amber from the cozy nest of its brethren.

Of course. My jaw tightens. I knew. Somehow I knew this was the one leaving me.

I lean in, staring, memorizing, vowing to find it again. Silently, I communicate this, watch the amber pulse with light. Wink and glint as if it hears me and understands.

I will reclaim you. Someday. When I’m no longer a prisoner of my mother’s whims. If I haven’t faded entirely by then. Wilted to nothing, turned into the phantom she wants me to be. I reach out to stroke its surface. Warm and throbbing. Life infuses me instantly.

Like she knows it’s feeding me, Mom pulls back, holding the gem just out of reach.

My skin weeps, contracts. I surge forward, hungry for its feel again.

“You have to stop this. Let go of the old life.” Mom’s gaze burns into me, and I’m reminded of the way she used to look. Alive, vibrant. Maybe the stones are still singing to some part of her, too. “There’s so much waiting for you here, if you’ll just open yourself to it.”

“Yeah,” I growl. “Maybe I’ll try out for cheerleading.”

She angles her head, looks at me sharply. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Yeah. She would love that. And I wish I could. It would almost be easier if I could do that. If I could be like Tamra.

“I’m not Tamra, Mom! I’m a draki—”

“No, you’re—”

“It’s who I am. If you want to kill that part of me, then what you really want is to kill me.” I inhale deeply. “Dad understood that.”

“And he’s dead. It got him killed.”

I blink. “What?”

She turns away, slams the amber back into the lockbox, and I think she’s decided the conversation is over, but then she faces me again, and her face isn’t hers at all. A stranger stares at me, her eyes overly bright, darting wildly like an animal’s emerging from the cover of woods. “He thought he might find another pride to take us in. One that wouldn’t expect that we sacrifice our daughter—”

“A rival pride?” I demand, hot denial sweeping over me. It’s forbidden to consort with other prides. Ever since the days of the Great War when we practically killed one another off. “Dad wouldn’t do that!” Did he think he could simply find a pride that wouldn’t slaughter him on sight?

“For you? For us?” She laughs a broken sound. “Oh yes. He would. Your father would go to any length to protect you, Jacinda.” Her eyes turn bleak. “He did.”

I shake my head, fighting her words. Dad did not die because of me. It can’t be.

“It’s true,” she says, like she can read my mind, and I know it’s the truth. The terrible, sickening truth. I tremble, hurting so much I can barely breathe. I’m the reason Dad’s dead.

I suck in air. “And you blame me for that. Why don’t you just say it?”

Her eyes flash wide before narrowing. “Never. I blame the pride.”

I move my head side to side slowly, as if underwater. “I want to go back.” I don’t even know anymore if I mean this. I just want to get away from her, from all she’s telling me. It’s too much. I almost tell her about Cassian right then. Something stops me though, keeps the words from tumbling out. “You and Tamra can stay here. Maybe I can visit—”

She shakes her head fiercely. “Absolutely not. You’re my daughter. You belong with me.”

“I belong with the pride. With mountains and sky.”

“I’ll not have you bonded at sixteen!”

Can’t she see? There’s only trouble, pain, and death, for anyone who tries to leave the pride? “They won’t do that.” Cassian promised. “I won’t let—”

She laughs then. The wild sound frightens me. “Oh, Jacinda. When are you going to get it? Do I need to spell it out for you?”

I shake my head, confused, starting to feel like maybe I shouldn’t have believed Cassian so readily. That night outside Chubby’s suddenly feels long ago. Why is it I believed him again? “I already know they want me to bond with Cassian…sooner than—”

“That’s not the half of it.” She stalks forward, snatches hold of my arm. “Do you want to know what the pride planned for you?”

Cold dread sweeps over me, deep and awful, but I nod.

“If we hadn’t left when we did, they were going to clip your wings.”

I jerk my arm free and stumble back, shaking my head…just shaking. No, no, no. Our pride hasn’t performed the barbaric practice in generations. Wing clipping is an ancient form of corporal punishment for draki. To rob a draki of the ability to fly is the ultimate punishment…and extremely painful.

“They wouldn’t do that to me,” my voice rasps.

“You’re property, an object to them. A precious commodity for their future. They would do anything to keep you.”

I see Cassian’s face, remember his earnest expression. He couldn’t have been lying, couldn’t have known this was in store for me. He couldn’t have wanted me to return with him and face that. No way. I don’t believe it. “It’s not true. You would have told me before—”

“I’m telling you now. They had very specific plans for you, Jacinda. They weren’t willing to take any chances with you. Not after that last stunt you pulled.”

Now the tears roll down my face, hissing on my steaming cheeks. “You’re just saying this so I won’t go back.” My voice isn’t my own. Hot emotion clenches my throat so that I can hardly breathe.

“Grow up, Jacinda. You’re not a little girl anymore. It’s the truth. Deep in your bones, you know it. Do you want to go back to that?”

“Mom,” Tamra says from the doorway. She stares at me in concern. Her smooth brow creases in a way that reminds me of when we were little girls, both so protective of each other. We constantly snuck into each other’s bed at night…just to assure ourselves that the other one was okay.

With that memory, I don’t feel so terribly alone. Just embarrassed. I dash a hand against my wet cheeks. Tears make me feel weak, small. Two things a draki shouldn’t be.

Maybe I’m more human than I thought.

Mom’s voice softens and I jerk as she touches my shoulder. “You can’t go back, Jacinda. Ever. You understand now?”

Nodding, I lower my head. Let my hair fall into my eyes. So she won’t see the tears. The defeat. Because I know she’s not lying. Everything she said is the truth. I can’t go back to the pride.

I’m trapped if I stay here. I’m trapped if I return to them. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never be free.

The truth presses down on me. A brutal, cutting pain driving into my shoulder blades.

I dart past my sister standing in the doorway, nearly tripping in my rush to escape. Numbly, I hear her whispering to Mom. For a second, I wonder if she knows about the wing clipping, too. If she’s known all along. Cassian had to know that his dad and the elders intended to cut my wings. How could he stare me in the face and lie with such sincerity? Did he care nothing for me? For the friendship we once shared?

I feel foolish and lost…stupid. My certainty that they would never force me to bond too young is ridiculous knowing now that they were willing to cripple me in the worst possible way. They’re capable of anything.

Hunching over, I clutch my midsection as I shove through the bathroom door. Lunging to the toilet, I empty my stomach, sobbing through the painful shudders, retching over and over again.

Shaking, broken, I finally stop. Collapse back onto the floor. Weak. Listless. Leaning against the cool wall, I grip my quivering face with both hands and accept that everything I ever knew to be true, everything I ever believed in, doesn’t exist.

I can never go home. I have no home.

I don’t know how long I sit on the floor before a knock sounds at the door. From the painful needles prickling my numb back and bottom, I’m guessing it’s been a while.

“Go away,” I call.

Exhausted from crying, I listen to the sound of my own breath sawing from my lips for several moments.

Tamra’s voice floats through the wood, so soft and low it takes me a moment to process.

“It’s not your fault, Jacinda. Don’t beat yourself up. Of course, you trusted them.”

My head snaps up, stares at the door.

She knows? She cares?

I guess I shouldn’t feel surprise. She’s my sister. As different as we are, I never felt she hated me or blamed me for fitting in with the pride when she couldn’t. At her core, she never blamed me for Cassian. For having him without trying. Now if I screwed things up for her here, in Chaparral, she would blame me for that.

As if she can read my mind, she continues, “The way they treated you…like some kind of monument for the pride. Not real, not anyone they respected or cared about…it was wrong. Cassian was wrong.” She sighs, and I wonder how it is she knows what I need to hear from her right now. “I just want you to know that.” Pause. “I love you, Jacinda.”

I know, I almost say.

The shadow of her feet beneath the door disappears. I bite my lip until the coppery tang of blood runs over my teeth. Slowly, I stand and leave the bathroom.