Flame (Fireborn) (48 page)

There was light and
colors…

Like fire.

Remember.

"Me," I
whisper.

He presses his face to
me. "Yes," he reinforces quietly. "Kenna, you are the
carrier of the fire crystal. You're the miracle we've all been hoping
for."

The stars suddenly look
brighter than they've ever looked. I try to imagine somebody living
there, someone using magic even. But it all sounds so unbelievable
that the only image I can get in my head is E.T. riding his bike.

Kaiden is next to me,
trying to sleep. He tells me he only needs an hour to regain his
strength, but he's been knocked out for almost two so I'm not sure if
he's telling the truth.

Its still night, and I
wonder if it will ever be day again. The pain shooting up and down my
body has intensified, but the throbbing in my head is worse. After
the fire has cooled, my head is a field of dead brain cells. When
Kaiden catches me massaging my head, he tells me the pain is normal.
It hurts so bad what I really want to do is cut my head open with a
rock. Would
that
be normal? Somehow I think not.

Soon, fatigue, pain- or
maybe both- makes me drowsy. My eyelids are heavy like bricks, but I
don't want to sleep. I'm scared about what I might see.

I play a game with
myself to keep me awake. I make pictures with the stars, connecting
them like dots. There's one star in particular shining brighter than
the rest. For some reason, I'm drawn to it. My eyes keep returning to
the star, staring at the sparkling white perfection, transfixed by
its beauty.

The throbbing pain in
my body is making me dizzy, but I don't stop. Gazing intently, I
start to see something shift, moving gently. Lightheaded, I
concentrate deeper until the faraway light seems to drift closer.

I should be afraid, but
I'm not. I'm motionless, waiting for it.

Losing myself in the
haze, I finally close my eyes.

The stars suddenly look
brighter than they've ever looked. I try to imagine somebody living
there, someone using magic even. But it all sounds so unbelievable
that the only image I can get in my head is E.T. riding his bike.

Kaiden is next to me,
trying to sleep. He tells me he only needs an hour to regain his
strength, but he's been knocked out for almost two so I'm not sure if
he's telling the truth.

Its still night, and I
wonder if it will ever be day again. The pain shooting up and down my
body has intensified, but the throbbing in my head is worse. After
the fire has cooled, my head is a field of dead brain cells. When
Kaiden catches me massaging my head, he tells me the pain is normal.
It hurts so bad what I really want to do is cut my head open with a
rock. Would
that
be normal? Somehow I think not.

Soon, fatigue, pain- or
maybe both- makes me drowsy. My eyelids are heavy like bricks, but I
don't want to sleep. I'm scared about what I might see.

I play a game with
myself to keep me awake. I make pictures with the stars, connecting
them like dots. There's one star in particular shining brighter than
the rest. For some reason, I'm drawn to it. My eyes keep returning to
the star, staring at the sparkling white perfection, transfixed by
its beauty.

The throbbing pain in
my body is making me dizzy, but I don't stop. Gazing intently, I
start to see something shift, moving gently. Lightheaded, I
concentrate deeper until the faraway light seems to drift closer.

I should be afraid, but
I'm not. I'm motionless, waiting for it.

Losing myself in the
haze, I finally close my eyes.

I'm in a tunnel.

The whiteness isn't
a star.

Before I become
alarmed, a deep voice says, "We really should stop meeting this
way." Instantly, all fears evaporate. He's waiting for me at the
end, a tall shadow in the startling brightness. Suddenly I feel
lighter inside.

"Maybe you
should visit more." I can't keep my tone as stern as I would
like. Looking at his face makes my heart jump faster. "You know,
instead of leaving me in a prison."

My sneakers produce
soft sounds on the cement floor, and it reverberates gently like the
noises of a grandfather clock. "FYI," I continue to inform
him. "It ranks first on the list of worst ways to court a girl."

Rhys smiles, but
doesn't reply. Inwardly, I sigh in dismay. He's so handsome, and has
done the worst thing possible, yet my heart is still fluttering,
aching to be held by him.
Without
a doubt I belong in the psych ward.
Maybe he hears me
because he laughs, gazing at me with a strange tenderness.

Ignoring how his
expression makes my skin scorch, I ask, "Is this another dream?
Or am I really dead this time?" My footsteps are loud in the
serene silence as I come to stand by him.

"No," he
answers softly. "You're not dead. Not yet, anyway."

"Comforting,"
I say as I reach him. There is light all around us in the tunnel, and
it seems to go for miles and miles. "Where are we?"

He shrugs. "I'm
not sure. The In- between maybe?"

"Another
cryptic answer." I want to touch him, and so I do. Only this way
can I say what I want, and feel him the way I want to. In real life
it'd never be like this. It could never be like this.

His cheeks are
firmer than I imagined, and I trace the bones lightly. He catches my
hand, and presses his face into it. He flips it over, studying my
palm. It's completely black. It's so dark my birthmark isn't visible.
He looks angry. His scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, and I try to
snatch my hand away.

"Killed a
couple evil creatures today," I tell him lightly. "I think
I should be promoted from sidekick to hero."

"I always knew
you could do it."

"It would've
been nice if you told me earlier, then I could've gotten out of that
hell hole faster." This time my voice
is
stern.

"Your powers
come when you're ready for them," he tells me. "They
wouldn't have come any earlier than now."

"How do you
know so much about me?"

"I make it my
business to know things about beautiful women." He kisses the
middle of my blackened palm tenderly. "Like this, for instance,"
he says, rubbing the spot where my birthmark is. "Where I come
from, a mark defines who you are," he reveals quietly. "If
you're a guard you're marked with that symbol. If you're a warrior,
you're celebrated with that symbol." His eyes catch mine. "And
if you are a carrier, then it's imprinted into your skin, hidden in
your body." More questions swirl in my mind, but whenever I'm
with Rhys like this they become less important.

Without looking away
from me, he kisses each part of my birthmark until he reaches the
end. His lips suck the tip of my index finger gently. I'm barely able
to breathe, and hot chills wash over me with every kiss that he
gives.

"Sometimes when
you're afraid, all you have to do," he traces my scar again "is
find your mark." His touch makes me ache.

"Rhys," I
whisper. "How can we be together like this?"

"Magic."

I'm frustrated with
his answer. "How come you always leave me when I need you the
most?" My voice breaks.

"Sometimes the
choices we make are not always the right ones, but they are the
necessary ones for right now."

"
Necessary?
Imprisoning me is necessary? Letting someone
hurt
me
is necessary?" I ask, shattered.

"I have to."
His confession sounds pained. He grips my shoulders hard. "I
feel everything you feel when you hurt, Kenna. I
feel
it. In here," he points to his head. "And in here." He
points to his heart.

"Then leave and
come with me!"

"I can't."
For the first time he sounds angry with me. "There are things
that are bigger than us. Everyone has a part, and I have to play
mine."

"What is my
part then?" I snap back. "Tell me. I'll do it. Anything for
this nightmare to be over."

His lips clench
together. "You're already doing your part."

I stare at him,
livid, and sad at the same time. He's looking at me, too, and it's
like we're each trying to stare the other down. Neither one of us
wants to give in, but the fatigue in his eyes hurts my heart so I
look away.

"Are you always
going to stay with me in my head?" I ask quietly, staring ahead
into the white nothingness.

"Only until
you're part is done."

I want to screech at
him, to tell him to stop playing these dangerous games. I want to
shout at him be with
me
.
Choose
me
. But I don't
get a chance to say those things.

The second I turn to
him, his lips crush mine. It's a forceful kiss, a kiss filled with
frustration, anger, and injustice. He hurts me when his teeth nip my
lips, but I want more. I crave the pain because it means he's real.
It means he's just as shattered as I am.

I bury my fingers in
his hair, reveling in how close I can pull him. When my whole body is
pushed against his, I wrap my legs around his waist, forcing him to
carry me the way my heart had been carrying him since the moment he
saw me.

We pull away because
the light is dimming around us. I know what he's going to say before
he says it.

"Yes," I
answer. "I'll survive. I'm a survivor," I echo his words.

He clutches me hard.
"You need to believe it. Now is not the time for you to die."

Shadows cover us,
slowly rising like mists. They get to him first, but before they can
pull him away, he grabs my hands, touching my birthmark.

"This is who
you are." His eyes stay on me until the last possible second.

When the blackness
starts to pull me back, I'm afraid it's the last time I'll ever see
him again.

I'm in a tunnel.

The whiteness isn't
a star.

Before I become
alarmed, a deep voice says, "We really should stop meeting this
way." Instantly, all fears evaporate. He's waiting for me at the
end, a tall shadow in the startling brightness. Suddenly I feel
lighter inside.

"Maybe you
should visit more." I can't keep my tone as stern as I would
like. Looking at his face makes my heart jump faster. "You know,
instead of leaving me in a prison."

My sneakers produce
soft sounds on the cement floor, and it reverberates gently like the
noises of a grandfather clock. "FYI," I continue to inform
him. "It ranks first on the list of worst ways to court a girl."

Rhys smiles, but
doesn't reply. Inwardly, I sigh in dismay. He's so handsome, and has
done the worst thing possible, yet my heart is still fluttering,
aching to be held by him.
Without
a doubt I belong in the psych ward.
Maybe he hears me
because he laughs, gazing at me with a strange tenderness.

Ignoring how his
expression makes my skin scorch, I ask, "Is this another dream?
Or am I really dead this time?" My footsteps are loud in the
serene silence as I come to stand by him.

"No," he
answers softly. "You're not dead. Not yet, anyway."

"Comforting,"
I say as I reach him. There is light all around us in the tunnel, and
it seems to go for miles and miles. "Where are we?"

He shrugs. "I'm
not sure. The In- between maybe?"

"Another
cryptic answer." I want to touch him, and so I do. Only this way
can I say what I want, and feel him the way I want to. In real life
it'd never be like this. It could never be like this.

His cheeks are
firmer than I imagined, and I trace the bones lightly. He catches my
hand, and presses his face into it. He flips it over, studying my
palm. It's completely black. It's so dark my birthmark isn't visible.
He looks angry. His scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, and I try to
snatch my hand away.

"Killed a
couple evil creatures today," I tell him lightly. "I think
I should be promoted from sidekick to hero."

"I always knew
you could do it."

"It would've
been nice if you told me earlier, then I could've gotten out of that
hell hole faster." This time my voice
is
stern.

"Your powers
come when you're ready for them," he tells me. "They
wouldn't have come any earlier than now."

"How do you
know so much about me?"

"I make it my
business to know things about beautiful women." He kisses the
middle of my blackened palm tenderly. "Like this, for instance,"
he says, rubbing the spot where my birthmark is. "Where I come
from, a mark defines who you are," he reveals quietly. "If
you're a guard you're marked with that symbol. If you're a warrior,
you're celebrated with that symbol." His eyes catch mine. "And
if you are a carrier, then it's imprinted into your skin, hidden in
your body." More questions swirl in my mind, but whenever I'm
with Rhys like this they become less important.

Without looking away
from me, he kisses each part of my birthmark until he reaches the
end. His lips suck the tip of my index finger gently. I'm barely able
to breathe, and hot chills wash over me with every kiss that he
gives.

"Sometimes when
you're afraid, all you have to do," he traces my scar again "is
find your mark." His touch makes me ache.

"Rhys," I
whisper. "How can we be together like this?"