Silver (24 page)

FOR
T
Y
-
o
n
e

I cough and cough and cough. I can't seem to stop. I puke up what feels like a gallon of water. My hair is sticky and knotted with seaweed, scratching my arms as I cough some more. When I finally stop and collapse on the sand, I'm staring up at the stars. They don't seem nearly bright enough.

Then I remember. Blake. I sit up and look around the beach. The fire still burns, smaller than it once was. Blake's body lies in the sand beside it. I struggle to my feet and move as fast as I can, then crumple next to him.

His blond hair looks almost silver in the moonlight. His hand is cold, no trace left of the life that flowed through him. The bloodstains on his shirt look nearly black, but they're not as dark as the charred area around his heart, the place where he was hit.

I double over as the tears finally come. I cry out, screaming to the sea. This gut-wrenching ache is different from the physical sensation of our soul bind. So much worse. There's nothing except a black hole, a light-sucking void that can only collapse in on itself, absorbing everything in its path, including me.

I don't know how long I cry, my teeth chattering and clacking. I glance up at the fissure in the cliff wall, half-expecting Austin to step out and say “I told you so,” but of course he can't.

There's no denying the reality of what I am now. A killer. Not in the way that Austin or Sherri wanted me to be, but a killer all the same.

A different path to the same place.

I should go find Joe. We need to move Blake before someone comes by. We need to take Blake to his family. I don't even know Blake's parents, but the thought of telling them that their son is dead sends me into another round of sobbing.

I put my hands on the charred area of his shirt, over the blackened flesh covering his heart. The skin is still warm. I pull my hand away. The rest of Blake's body is cold. His skin should be cool to the touch, but the magic still burns in him.

My
magic. It's still there. What did Austin do with Dart? A reversal. I try to remember the foreign words that Austin used when he ran his hands over Dart's cuts. I place my hand over the burn mark on Blake's chest.

“
Draiocht leasaigh
,” I whisper, hoping I'm pronouncing it right.

Nothing happens. Blake is so still, so empty.

“Please.”

Blake's hair is wild, sticking out in all directions. It's somehow exactly right, mirroring my crazy desperation as I say the words again.

The skin beneath my palm starts to cool, and for a second I think it will work. Then I realize the opposite is happening. My magic had been the last bit of life force left in Blake, the final holdout. Even it couldn't stay there forever.

As the last of the magic leaves his body, I slam my fist into his chest. As if I can beat the life back into him.

There's a blur of motion. A hand grabs my wrist and I'm thrown back into the sand. “What was that for?” someone yells.

Blake—
Blake!—
pins me to the ground.

I throw my free arm around him and pull him closer, grinning like a maniac. I hold him as tightly as I can. “Thank you,” I say into his neck. I can't believe he's here.

Alive.

“Easy,” he says. “You're choking me.”

I loosen my hold, reluctantly letting him sit up. I keep my hand on his shoulder, unable to let go completely.

Blake looks up and down the beach. “Where's Austin?”

I bite my lower lip. “I might've banished him from the earth for a while.”

He crinkles his nose, apparently noticing that I smell like something close to a beached seal. “I have a feeling there's a story here.”

The air makes contact with my wet clothes, but it's the icy chill on the inside that makes me shiver. I drop my hand from his shoulder, shaking my hair in a pointless attempt to get the sand out.

We both look out at the ocean, neither one of us in a rush to have this discussion. I just want to sit here and breathe him in. I reach for him, but let my hand fall at the last minute when I realize he's not even looking at me.

He breaks the silence first. “I can't feel you. You're right here next to me and I don't feel anything.”

Ironic, that. Because I feel everything. I may not carry a piece of his soul, but every beat of my heart is alive with him.
Blake. Blake. Blake.

“Did you find a way to break the bond?” The hope in his voice is a shot with a poisoned arrow.

“That's one way of putting it.” My jeans are still wet and starting to chafe. I pull my knees to my chest. “I killed you.”

He laughs, and I almost let myself laugh with him. It would be so much easier to pretend it's all a joke. It's not like he can feel me anymore. He wouldn't even know if I lied. But I don't lie. I ramble instead.

“Austin was going to kill you. He had your sword. I tried to stop him, but he disappeared and you were too weak to get out of the way. I thought I was saving you.” I'm crying now, remembering the look on Blake's face as my fireball hit his chest. “I was right about Austin. He couldn't kill you himself. I had to be the one.”

Bl
ake looks at me sideways. “Brianna, chill. You're missing something kind of important.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I'm not exactly dead.”

“Not now.”

He laughs again. “Did I get hit in the head? Did you? Is that what broke the bond?”

He's not getting it. He still thinks Austin is the one who hurt him. I've told him the truth—it's up to him whether he wants to believe it. I should be relieved, so why can't I let this go? For some stupid reason, it's important that Blake understand. Who I am. What I am.

“You're not listening.” I wait until he looks at me. “I. Killed. You.” There's a question in his eyes. He's alive, so of course none of this makes any sense to him. I try again. “I used a reversal spell.”

“A reversal?”

“Let me see your hand.” As he puts his hand in mine, I conjure a fireball. He pulls back his hand with a shout.

“Christ!” He holds up his reddened hand. Blisters are popping up along his fingers and there's a large piece of his palm with the skin missing. The smell of burnt flesh rises in the air.

“Watch.” I place my fingers over his hand again, feeling the magic as it courses through. I repeat the reversal spell. As I say the words, his palm cools and the magic retreats. Within a few seconds, the blisters are gone. His skin is back, perfectly smooth, no trace of the wound.

“Oh my God.” He's looking at me like I'm some kind of freak, like I've broken every law of nature. Which I have. There is no scientific explanation for bringing the dead back to life. His face is white. “I was dead?”

I nod, taking in the pained look in his eyes without feeling it. I want to feel it with him. For him. I owe him that. But there's nothing but emptiness where his emotions should be.

Before I can say anything else, Blake turns away. I follow his gaze to the dark figure approaching us.

Joe pulls out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. “You've looked better.”

I look down at my still-soaked clothes. My hair hangs in a knotted mess of sand and sea water. Blake's shirt is covered with blood and burn marks. There's a fresh stain where the cut along his chest has started bleeding again. His hair sticks straight up.

I try to smile, not quite managing it. “Nice to see you too.”

Joe offers his hand and pulls me to my feet.

I make a half-hearted attempt at brushing sand from my jeans. “How's Haley?”

Is it my imagination or do Joe's cheeks redden? “Good. Worried, but good.”

Blake doesn't move to get up. He stares back out at the ocean.

“Coming?” Joe asks.

Blake finally looks at Joe. Not at me, even though I'm standing right here. “Not yet. Can you take the girls home?”

The girls. Plural. Haley and me.

Joe nods. “No problem.”

Blake looks back to the water, his eyes vacant. I've been dismissed.

“Wait.” I walk toward the firepit. Blake doesn't turn to watch me. My bracelet lies in the sand right where I left it, and I lean down to pick it up. Before I do, I look at Blake one more time. I'm not two feet away from him, with no magic to hide me, but he doesn't turn around. I curl my fingers around the charm. I don't need its protection anymore, but at least I can pretend it's the reason Blake doesn't look at me.

Joe picks up Haley's jeans and shirt from the beach before taking my arm to lead me back toward the parking lot. “You gonna tell me what all that was about?” he says as we walk.

“No. Are you going to tell me what you and Haley were doing while we were out here saving the world?”

Joe's lips turn up into a closed-mouth smile. “Nope.” He reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a lighter. He stops walking just long enough to scratch the flint and bring the dancing flame to the cigarette that hangs from his lips.

He inhales deeply before turning up the path to the parking lot.

FOR
T
Y
-
t
w
o

On Saturday morning, Joe calls to give me directions to Rush Bruton's house for my initiation as a new breeder. “It's not too late to back out,” he says halfheartedly. He knows I'm not going to change my mind.

I should. I should get as far away from the Sons as I can. But I have to try to make them understand that I don't want to fight.

Dad stops me on the way out the door. “Hot date?”

“You know it.” It's even less true than he realizes.

“I got the oil changed in the Blue Box today. I was thinking you might want to trade her in now that Dart is sold. We could go to some dealers tomorrow.”

I don't think I can handle losing Dart and the Blue Box in one weekend. “No thanks. She's got at least another fifty thousand miles in her.”

“Okay.” Dad stares at me, which is weird in itself. “Is that a new dress? It looks nice.”

“It is.” I spin around so he can see the blue silk dress that Mom got me for my birthday.

“You look great.”

“Thanks.” I'm in my car before the full implication of what Dad said hits me. I rub the bracelet on my wrist. The charm isn't working anymore. I can't hide behind the little silver blossom. Today, the Sons will meet the real Brianna Paxton. Whoever that is.

Rush lives in the Heights, in a sprawling house that didn't burn in last fall's firestorm. Everything about the house is proud, from the long driveway to the huge round pillars that frame the front entrance. A six-car garage is attached to the side, but a red Ferrari sits in the driveway, uncovered. Large double doors are framed in an intricate pattern of blue and green stained glass.

Micah answers the door at almost the exact moment I press the bell. “Dude, you look amazing! Are you trying to blow your cover?”

I accept his kiss on the cheek. “Can't a girl just look her best?”

He laughs. “Hell yes. If you weren't already with Blake, I might even consider breeding with you.”

I raise my eyebrows.

Micah laughs. “What? You have to admit we'd make some damn fine babies.” He leads me down an elaborate hallway with archways every few feet, then stops at another set of double doors. “It will just be the Sons for the ceremony. You'll meet the rest of the breeders for refreshments in the sunroom, afterwards.”

“You make it sound so civilized.”

“Mrs. Bruton wouldn't dream of anything less. Right down to the crustless cucumber sandwiches. It's completely lame.”

I smooth out the skirt of my dress, grateful that I've dressed appropriately for the occasion for once.

Micah smiles. “Relax. You look hot.” He knocks on the door and we wait.

After an awkward minute, Jeremy opens the door. He looks at me twice, as if he isn't sure it's really me, then he grins. “Hel-lo, new blood.”

As I enter the room, I feel them staring, hear the murmurs that roll on the air. None of it means anything. There's only one person who matters.

Blake is leaning against a wall in the back corner of the room, next to a giant picture window that opens up to what must've been an amazing view at one time. Now, the black, barren canyon looks like a war zone. It's somehow fitting. Blake sips a glass of dark wine, the deep crimson color of blood. His eyes meet mine over his glass.

My heart flutters, skipping in places like a scratched record. But there's no indication of his emotions. Nothing I can feel. Nothing I can read in his dark gaze. For the first time since coming here, I feel the fear I should have felt all along. It's not the fear that my enemies will not accept a truce, although that's certainly a possibility; it's the fear that there's nothing left between Blake and me now except my breaking heart.

The twins flank me as I walk to the center of the room. I nod politely at two large men sitting at either end of one of the two black leather couches. I recognize one of them as Dr. McKay, the geneticist who came to my school. I force myself to look at Jonah, who sits opposite him.

I turn my shoulder, blocking him out as I smile at Jeremy and place a hand on his arm. Jeremy puts his hand on top of mine and squeezes. Blake is no longer leaning against the wall. He stands at attention, easing closer. My pulse picks up speed with every inch of distance that closes.

Rushmore Bruton stands in the center of the room. He's wearing a dark suit. Instead of a tie, his shirt is topped with a deep red neckcloth tied in a fancy knot that flows in an intricate cascade.

“Well, Jonah, it seems you're not completely insane.” Rush looks me in the eye. His stare is hard and I immediately look away. “She's quite pretty, isn't she?” He places his hand on my shoulder, his thumb moving along my collar­bone. “She might make good breeding stock after all.”

It's an effort not to pull away from his touch.

Blake takes another step toward me. I don't have to feel him to know that he's on the verge of violence. His shoulders tense. The vein at the base of his throat expands and throbs. I swallow. If Blake wanted to attack me, he wouldn't do it here. At least that's what I tell myself.

Rush finally speaks to me directly. “On your knees.”

I automatically respond to his command, but my eyes watch Blake, who moves another step closer. The wine in his glass is lapping and churning though his hand is still.

Rush places both of his hands on my shoulders. “You will swear your fealty to me and mine. Repeat after me.” From this angle Rush looks even taller. “I will to the Sons be faithful and true.”

I repeat the words, going through the motions.

“And love all that we love.”

All that they love. I can't help looking at Blake. He lifts his wine glass to his lips, downing half the glass in one swallow. I wait for him to look at me. “And love all that we love.”

Rush closes his hands tight on my shoulders, pinching the skin. “And shun all that we shun.”

I say the words, though my mouth is dry and sour.

“Putting the good of the Sons above all.”

I hesitate.

Blake moves another step closer so that he's standing right next to me. Waiting. For what? For me to swear fealty so he can expose me as a fraud?

Rush repeats the words, louder this time.

I won't let him do it. I won't give him that power.

“Is there a problem young lady?” Rush glares down at me. My shoulders tremble.

Jonah laughs, a sound that barely registers as I pull away, breaking the contact with Rush's hands. Although my legs feel like Jell-O, I find enough strength to stand, forcing myself to meet Rush's hard eyes.

I may be a killer, but I am not going to be anyone's monster but my own. It's now or never. Every man in the room is standing at full attention now, nerves on alert, waiting for some sign from Rush.

I gather my courage. “I've agreed to be faithful to the Sons. But I will not fall to my knees for you, and you have no right to ask.” My voice shakes.

“On your knees!” Rush's eyes turn silver.

It's almost enough to send me back to the floor. I force myself to stand firm.

Blake has moved so close I can smell vanilla and mint. I close my eyes, breathing him in. It's almost too much. I might cry. Some stand against tyranny that would be.

I open my eyes and focus on Rush. “Mr. Bruton, you have my word that I will not harm the Sons. I will protect you if I can. On my terms.”

Blake's hand slips into mine and he gives me a light squeeze. A shock of heat flares where he touches me. My heart dances in response. Blake wasn't about to attack me—his anger is directed at Rush.

Rush's eyes drop to our joined hands, then he glares at Blake. “You will pay for this,” he whispers. It's far more powerful than if he'd yelled.

Blake doesn't move from his place beside me.

“I offer a truce.” My legs wobble, barely holding me upright.

“
Why would I want peace with you? You're no threat to us. A lowly human with an attitude not fit for breeding.”

I hold on to Blake tighter as I let the earth seep into my bones. The clinking of the glasses above the bar is the first indication, and then the earth shakes in earnest. Blake starts to laugh as the roar fills the room. Rush steps back, off balance. A blast of air pushes him the rest of the way, so that he falls back onto the floor.

The rumbling stops. “Let's try this one more time,” I say. “I will protect the Sons from others like me, and you will ensure my safety from the Sons.”

Rush scrambles to his feet. “How dare you!”

Blake pulls at my hand, moving me away from Rush. I have no intention of running. Not this time. I hold my ground. “Perhaps you misunderstood. I offer peace, not war.”

“This is impossible.” Dr. McKay gets up off the couch. “We tested you. You have the Killian gene. You're one of us.”

It seems even Dr. McKay needs to be reminded of basic genetics. Danu's heirs are Killian's heirs just as surely as the Sons themselves are. “I am an heir of Killian,” I state. “I am descended from his son Brom.”

Rush gasps. I turn to look at him just as he disappears, reappearing as a bright, powerful demigod, a large sword in his hands. The power that flows through me is a swirl of wind waiting to be unleashed. I send the wind at Rush, picking him up and throwing him against the window. A large crack forms down the center of the window as he smacks against it and slides to the floor.

Dr. McKay steps back.

“Anyone else want to play?” I look directly at Jonah, practically begging for him to take me on.

“I hate to say I told you so,” Jonah says to Rush. He looks back at me. “It's a shame we have to kill you. We would've been good together.” He disappears and reappears, holding his jeweled knife, his silver eyes flashing.

Seconds later, Dr. McKay turns, then the man sitting next to him, who I assume is Levi. I am surrounded by Sons, nearly blinded by the light that surrounds them. So peace is out.

Austin would be thrilled to know he was right. They won't let me live. My only choice is to fight. I raise my hands just as Dr. McKay leaps forward, sword drawn.

“Enough!” Blake yells, throwing himself in front of me. Dr. McKay sees him too late. He twists to the side, glancing Blake's shoulder with the butt of his sword and knocking him down.

“Stop!” Blake shouts from the carpet. “Think about what she offers. Protection against the others. And there
are
others.” He glares at Rush, who's only now pulling himself up from the floor. “You've seen them.”

They close their circle around us, but Blake's distraction is exactly what I need to gain the upper hand. I can take them all out in one fiery burst. The flames build in my blood until it hurts. I shake from the fire that rages inside me.

Blake turns to face me, his eyes pleading.

Move.
I pray for him to understand, even though I know he can't feel me anymore. I can't attack them with Blake in the way, but if I don't strike soon, I'll lose my only chance. My hand itches with heat. But I won't kill Blake. Not again.

Yet another cruel irony in my twisted life. My weakness is not the killer inside me at all. It's the girl.

Weak, weak, weak.

I shake violently now.

Blake sees my struggle. He looks at the gathered Sons. “Last chance before I let her at you.”

I grab the couch again. My legs start to give out as the power and heat build with each second. I need to let it out. Now. “Blake. Move.” My voice is a rasp.

“Hang on. They'll come around.”

I can't take the fire much longer. The flame burns my blood, boiling it from the inside. My ears are ringing, a blaring siren perfectly suited to the fire that consumes me.

I love you
.
I'm not sure if I say the words or not, but I hope he hears them. Then it's too late for me to do anything but scream as I fall to the floor.