Firelight

21

That night it rains for the first time since I’ve been here.

I’d started to think that I might never again see it or taste it on my skin. That I had moved to some forgotten corner of the world without rain, without lush greens. Where the earth whispers no song.

But tonight the sky breaks open — weeps copious tears. On the day Mom reveals the final ugly truth she hid from me. It’s appropriate. Fitting somehow that rain should fall.

With droplets licking at the windows, I think about Will stuck with his awful family. A prisoner like me. I trace my chapped lips, feel him there with the brush of my parched fingertips.

Idly, I wonder what it would have felt like if Cassian had kissed me. Another draki. Would my draki have responded to him? Would the kiss have held the same magic? Could he have kissed me and still lied to my face? Would he have stood by and watched as they clipped my wings?

I roll onto my side. Listen hard. Listen like I’ve never heard rain before. My skin savors the thrumming sound. Its gentle beat on the pebbled path outside. Its pinging on the metallic roof of the garden shed.

I smile a little. Feel hope in the soft, steady pattern that fills the silence of night. Exhilaration. Anticipation. The same way I felt when Will’s lips touched mine.

Dad wouldn’t want me to blame myself for his death, and he wouldn’t want me to give up. I love my mother, but she’s wrong. My draki is too much a part of who I am. I can’t go back to the pride. And I can’t stay here, avoiding Will, waiting for Cassian to show up.

There has to be another way.

Dad would want me to fight, to find a way to keep my draki alive. He died trying to find another option for us. He made a choice. And it wasn’t to bury us within the mortal world. Even if he didn’t succeed, he believed it was possible.

His voice floats through my head, almost as though he sits beside me: Find a new pride, Jacinda.

My fingers curl, flex open, and shut against the edge of my comforter. That’s it — the answer. What I need to do.

I may not know the exact location of any other prides, but I know someone who does. I can question Will. And I saw the map with my own eyes. If I could just study it a little longer, I could memorize the precise spots.

It’s something. A start.

Whether I can get the information out of Will and get into that room again without raising his suspicions is another matter. Clearly, I’ll have to spend more time with him….

A chill rasps the back of my neck as I contemplate how I might do that without making him wonder at my sudden change of heart.

A bird calls outside. The sound is bewildered, desperate. A yippy ka-kaa-ka-kaa. And I wonder at the stupid creature. Picture it sitting on its branch as the rain beats down on its frail, slight body. Wonder why it doesn’t take shelter. Seek cover. Hide. Why it doesn’t know any better. Maybe it’s lost, like me — out of its element. Maybe it can’t go home. Maybe it has no home.

My contented smile melts away. I shiver at a sudden cold in the room. Pull the bedspread higher, up to my chin, and try to get warm.

Rolling into as tight a ball as possible, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block out the sound.

I feel Mom kiss my cheek, brush the hair back off my forehead like she used to do when I was little. The room is dark. Not morning yet. The barest light spills in from the kitchen.

She must have come home after her shift to pick up her things. The amber. My heart seizes with the memory.

I inhale, detect the nutty musk of coffee in the air. She’ll need it to help her stay awake on the drive. Wherever she’s going can’t be close and she’s been up all night.

“Be good,” she whispers just like I’m six again. She would say that every day when Tamra and I walked out the door for school. “I love you.” Yeah, she said that, too.

Through slit eyes, I watch her shadow move to Tamra, asleep in her bed. Hear Mom’s lips pat her cheek. Another hushed good-bye.

Then she’s gone from the room. Gone to sell our family’s legacy. A piece of my soul I may never get back.

The light in the kitchen disappears. Snuffs out like a doused match. The front door lock clicks into place behind her. I resist jumping to my feet, running out the door, grabbing her, stopping her, throwing myself in her path and begging her to see me, love that part of me she could never love inside herself.

Tamra rustles in the bed opposite me, settling back to sleep and peaceful oblivion.

Then, quiet. A funereal hush. Only I’m awake. Aware.

My heart bleeding.