Vanish f-2 Read online

  I bite back the stinging retort that we would have taken good care of her, too. Mom and me. We’ve always looked out for each other… except the pride won’t let us anymore. I’m not sure who they consider the worse influence: me or Mom. I stare at the moonlight pale version of my sister and wonder whether she even wants to be with us. Does she miss us? Does she want to remain here?

  “You look good, too, Jacinda,” Tamra adds, and I know she’s lying. She’s never been a fan of my T-shirt and jeans wardrobe. And the rest of me… I gave myself a cursory inspection as I brushed my teeth this morning. The shadows under my eyes looked like bruises, and even my lips seemed pale, colorless. Funny that I should look my worst here, in the cool mountains that have always revitalized me so much, in the mists and mountains I thought I needed to keep my draki alive.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I’m starting training tomorrow.” Tamra props herself up a little higher on the couch cushions. “With Nidia and Keane.”

  I nod. Keane is the pride’s flight master. No draki takes to the sky without going through the ropes with him first.

  “I bet you’re looking forward to that.” And I smile, truly happy that she’ll know what it’s like to fly. She’ll taste wind and sky and clouds. I know how wonderful it is and now so will she. We’ll have that in common at last. She’ll understand what I’ve been talking about all this time — she’ll understand my need to keep my draki alive. It’s a strange concept. I can hardly wrap my head around it as I stare at the stranger my sister has become. Tamra. Flying. Tamra finally understanding why I can’t give it up. Why I can’t let my draki wither away.

  Nidia speaks then, and her words are like a surge of cold wind. “I knew both of you were destined for great things. You were such special children… and twins are so rare among our kind.”

  My gaze swings to her as she lowers herself down on the window seat, picking up her discarded knitting. Needles click clack as she smiles and shakes her head, clearly pleased with herself. “A fire-breather and a shader.” Beams of mote-filled light stream through the window at her back. Her silvery hair glints as if diamonds were buried in the dense mass.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Tamra marvels, looking dazed and a little giddy.

  “Believe it,” Cassian says, squeezing her shoulder.

  I stare at his large hand, his blunt-tipped fingers on her delicate shoulder, and I can’t help wondering whether he’s ever even touched her before. I know he hasn’t in the last five years. I suppose he did before then. When we were children and you just liked who you liked and played games together.

  Things were simple then. Before I manifested and Tamra didn’t. Before she became a defunct draki in the eyes of the pride.

  I draw a deep breath and tell myself that it’s okay for him to touch her. It doesn’t mean anything, and even if it did, even if Tamra ends up with Cassian, is that so bad? She’ll get what—who—she’s always wanted. I can’t begrudge her that happiness. Not when she’s had so little before now.

  And it wouldn’t mean I’d end up with Corbin. No matter what he said. I could still be the pride’s fire-breather without bonding with someone. Corbin was wrong about that.

  Moistening my lips, I say, “I owe you a big thank-you, Tamra.”

  She blinks her frosty eyes. “For what?”

  “For saving us back in Chaparral.” For saving me here, I think but don’t say. Without her, the pride would probably have unleashed its full wrath on me.

  “You’re thanking me? That’s unexpected. I didn’t think you would appreciate me shading Will’s memory.”

  I inhale a shallow breath. “You did what needed to be done. I know that.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  I wince, certain she’s implying that I didn’t. I didn’t do what I should have. I manifested before hunters to rescue Will. She wouldn’t condone me ever doing that.

  I glance uneasily at Nidia by the window. She focuses on her knitting, but I’m not so foolish to think she’s not absorbing every word, spoken and unspoken.

  As though she wants to make sure I catch her meaning, Tamra asks, “But you didn’t, did you? You didn’t do what you should have.”

  “Tamra,” Cassian says warningly. As though he’s trying to protect me. From my own sister. The irony isn’t lost on me that I spent years protecting Tamra from him. Even if he didn’t know it, he hurt her constantly with his cold indifference.

  “Stay out of this,” I growl.

  “Cassian, come.” With a jerk of her head, Nidia rises and motions to the door.

  Cassian nods. Together, they step outside, leaving us alone to talk.

  I inch closer to the couch. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Her features soften. “Neither do I.”

  “So,” I say lamely, sitting across from her. “How’s it going? How are you handling all of… this?”

  “Pretty good.” She glances out the window at air that grows murkier with every moment. After a minute she looks back at me with her frosty gaze. “Come with us tonight. We’ve never flown together. I want you there.”

  “Sure,” I agree. Flying always revives my spirit, gives me strength. I could use that now. “When does Nidia start training you?”

  “Actually we’ve already begun,” she says with a laugh. “Which is basically her talking a lot and giving an occasional demonstration. She says I’ll get to try it again soon.”

  I couldn’t ask for a better lead-in.

  “About that, how much damage do you think you did that night?”

  She blinks those crystalline eyes, looking so otherworldly right then. Like those eyes are looking at me through some kind of veil while the real Tamra hides beneath, buried away.

  “Damage?”

  I wince. Too late, I realize I should have chosen a better word. A nicer word. Her talent is a gift. Each draki talent is a gift. That’s what we’re taught since primary school anyway. Even talents best geared to create harm. Like fire-breathers.

  She’s a shader. A draki that doesn’t have to harm anyone to protect and save lives. I should be so lucky.

  I quickly try to recover. “I mean do you know the extent of”—I wave a hand—“of what you did that night?”

  She looks at me intently with her ghost eyes, making me squirm.

  “You cleared their memories, but do you know how far back you erased?” I pluck at the edge of a pillow. “Do you have any idea—”

  “This is about Will, isn’t it?” She drags a hand through her silvery hair. “You want to know how much of you I cleared from his memories, is that it?”

  The sound of her voice is tinny in my ears and makes me nervous… like a wire that’s about to snap and might catch me in the face. I shake my head, knowing instinctively that I don’t want to hear whatever she’s about to say. “N-no—”

  “You haven’t let any of it go, have you?” she asks evenly, but the words feel as though she yells them. “You’re still hung up on him.”

  “No,” I deny, but my voice sounds small and weak. Even I can’t convince me. “That’s not true. I know I have to let him go, but it’s not just a switch I can flip off. I wish it were.”

  She sighs. “I guess I can understand that. I pined long enough for someone I stood no chance of winning.” She means Cassian, of course. “But you can’t ever forget that he’s a human. You can’t keep going on loving a guy who hunts our kind.”

  A sharp gasp rips the air behind me. Jumping to my feet, I spin, spotting Az and Miram, Cassian’s sister, in the open doorway.

  Nidia stands behind them, her expression shocked and regretful. “Tamra, you have more… visitors,” she says lamely.

  Cassian is there, too, towering over them all. The look in his eyes makes me feel foolish and pathetic. I take a long-suffering blink, wishing suddenly I’d told Az about Will rather than have her walk in on the truth like this. Opening my eyes again and seeing her face, I feel my stomach sink.

  I make a
move toward her.

  “Is it true?” she demands, looking only at me. “You fell for a hunter? One of those… dogs that chased us through the forest? Tried to kill us?”

  I can see in her eyes that the memory still haunts her, and I know with a sick twist of my heart that she’ll never believe that Will is anything but an animal.

  “Please, Az. Let me explain. Will’s not—”

  “This is priceless,” Miram cuts in with relish.

  “Miram,” Cassian rebukes his sister. She just shrugs.

  Az drops the basket she’s carrying. Fruit and muffins tumble to the floor as she turns and flees.

  “Az,” I whisper, the look of betrayal on her face permanently etched in my mind. Another guilty memory.

  Miram remains. With a grin spreading across her face, she’s the most animated I’ve ever seen her. Visiocrypters don’t show much emotion. They don’t show much of anything. That’s part of their nature. Bland, sandy-colored hair with eyes to match. They’re nondescript, equipped to blend into the background.

  “Oh, this is good,” she says. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

  “Miram,” Cassian says sharply, but she’s already gone.

  She moves so fast, I’m not sure she didn’t just fade out into invisibility.

  Cassian moves to my side and looks down at me. “I’ll talk to her.”

  For a moment, I let myself soak up his nearness and take comfort from the reassuring words. Then, I catch myself and give my head a small shake. Even if Cassian means that, I can’t expect him to rein in his younger sister. Still, as I watch him take long strides out the door, I can’t help hoping he can stop her from spreading what Cassian himself had tried to keep from the pride. For my sake. But I doubt he can.

  Miram was never a fan of mine. Combine that with her love for gossip and this news is probably already halfway across the township. And she’s a visiocrypter. She can make herself invisible and hide her very presence whenever the mood strikes. As much as I hate to stereotype, such draki are deceptive by nature.

  What Cassian sought to spare me from is unavoidable. Everyone will know that the pride’s fire-breather gave her heart to a hunter. I might be pardoned and spared a wing-clipping, but I’ll never be forgiven, never be viewed as brethren again.

  Panic surges in my chest as I listen to Cassian’s tread fade away outside. I hurry to the door and look after him until he disappears into the misty morning.

  Turning back around, I face Nidia’s pitying stare. When did I become the pitiable one? That’s something new. Evidently, I’m not to be envied anymore.

  Tamra looks down into her mug, unable to meet my gaze. The nervous fidgeting of her hands tells me she’s sorry she said what she did — that Az and Miram overheard.

  “Hey.” I force my voice to sound normal, even cheerful. “Don’t look so sad.”

  She lifts her gaze. Her eyes glisten like ice. “I’m so sorry, Jacinda. For what I said… that they overheard…”

  I move, drop down beside her on the couch and hug her. “It’s not your fault.” I stroke her back in soothing circles. “None of this is your fault.”

  The only person I can blame is me.

  School in the pride is nothing like in the human world. We attend year-round, but never for a full day, and maybe only a few days a week depending on the course of study.

  Everyone has duties and tasks to attend to in order for the pride to function. We grow various crops, leave lines in the mountain streams for fish, occasionally hunt for meat. We also repair and maintain our current structures, fence lines, and, of course, the outer wall is always cultivated to look indigenous to the wild terrain.

  Even though we buy supplies from sporadic outings into the human world, the pride must be self-sufficient. Which is why, before my afternoon class, I head over to the library to do my part and resume my assigned duty.

  The library detail is one of the most coveted assignments. It beats plowing a field or maintaining the pride’s sewers.

  The library sits beside the school. The two buildings are attached by a breezeway. The door gives a single, muted chime as I enter, eager to see the librarian, Taya, one of the oldest earth draki in the pride. She doesn’t talk much, preferring the pages of a book to actual company, but we shared a sort of camaraderie from the years I’d been assigned as her assistant.

  I’ve always found her a fount of information. She’s not simply the pride’s librarian. She serves as historian, too — responsible for recording all significant events in the pride’s Great Book.

  She looks up from this book as I enter, pen poised in one hand over the mammoth leather-toiled tome. A page flips without touch, landing as gently as the brush of a moth’s wing.

  She never has to actually touch the pages to turn them. As an earth draki, she has influence over any material originating from the earth. Since the pages of a book derive from trees, she pretty much doesn’t have to handle anything directly in the library at all.

  She squints as I approach, the only draki I know in need of spectacles. As draki have excellent vision, I’m certain it’s a consequence of the centuries she’s spent poring over texts by dim lighting.

  “Jacinda,” she says hollowly, in a tone I’ve never heard from her before. Her features don’t move, don’t give the slightest flicker. She doesn’t even rise to move around her desk. She is completely unmoved at the sight of me. And I know she knows… probably heard the whispers fluttering through the misted streets of the pride since yesterday.

  I spent most of the day hiding, hoping against hope that Cassian was able to rein in his sister. Mom went out, though, and when she came back, I took one look at her grim face and knew that Miram’s work was done.

  “Hello, Taya.” I pause to deeply inhale the musty scent of books greeting me. “I’ve missed this place.” An awkward silence hangs on the air. “So.” I attempt a smile. “What do you have for me to do today?”

  Taya blinks. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Her lips purse unhappily — not because of whatever news she has to impart but because she’s the one who has to impart it. “Your position has been filled.”

  “Filled?” I echo.

  “That’s right.” She nods briskly.

  Then I hear it. My heart sinks as a soft hum ripples through the quiet library. It’s a bland, unremarkable tune, and I instantly know who it belongs to and who’s about to round the corner.

  Miram appears, carrying a stack of books. She stops when she sees me, her face revealing nothing. Naturally. “What are you doing here?” Her lips, very nearly the same color as her strangely neutral skin, barely move.

  “I work here. At least I thought I did.”

  “You thought wrong. Lots of things have changed since you left.”

  I’m beginning to see just how many.

  Taya looks back and forth between Miram and me. This is probably more conversation than she gets in a week. With a faint smile and shrug of apology that lacks any real regret, she returns to her work.

  Miram waves her fingers at me. “Good-bye.”

  Without a word, I turn and head out the door, walk past the school, ignoring the stares, the indiscreet whispers, and pointing fingers.

  I’m almost to the meeting hall when something hits me in the head. I stagger, clutch my face, more stunned than hurt. It’s a ball.

  There’s a burst of laughter, and a shouted taunt followed by children’s feet scampering away. Heat flares through me, spreading from the inside out. It hadn’t been an accident.

  Tears burn and prick at my eyes, which makes me furious. I loathe this weakness — that I would crumble over a child’s prank. I lean against the short stone wall edging the meeting hall, taking a moment to reclaim my composure. I will not cry.

  It’s hard sought. As the throbbing in my cheek really penetrates, really begins to smart, the steam builds in me.

  Closing my eyes, I sip air, cooling my lungs. It’s a
dangerous feeling, this anger, this building fire inside me that wants to unleash itself. And not just because some kids hit me with a ball. It’s everything. Az ignoring me. Getting rebuffed by Taya… I always thought she liked me. I sniff and rub at my burning nose.

  I should expect no less. It’s no less than I deserve. These children playing in the streets — I put them in danger. I can’t ever forget that.

  Still, Will’s face rises in my mind. His changeable eyes so clear, so tender as he gazes at me. I see him so well just then that my chest clenches, the ache terrible and fierce. Longing overwhelms me. For the deep sound of his voice rolling through me. For the way he made me feel. Not like I am now. A useless creature, deserving of contempt and ridicule.

  Chapter 7

  “Well, let’s see what we have available right now, shall we?” Jabel clicks at her keyboard and peers at her monitor, and I decide it’s not in my imagination that she treats me with decidedly less warmth than before. Expected, I suppose, but still ironic considering that a little more than a month ago she invited me to every family gathering she hosted, plying me with food and drink and sitting me between Corbin and Cassian. Her son and her nephew. One way or another, she would have the fire-breather in her family. I’ve always known this was her goal.

  I stand in front of her desk and try not to fidget. She’s not looking at me right now, and for that I’m glad. I always avoid her gaze. Even though hypnos draki are unable to use their talent on fellow draki, I feel like she can get inside my head anyway, whispering her words, trying to influence my actions.

  A deep rumble of voices flows from the office behind her. Severin, I’m sure. In there with the elders. At least I don’t have to see him. Or worse — I don’t have to endure some remark about losing my duty being the least of what I deserve.

  “Ah, here we have something.”

  I nod, eager to leave.

  Grabbing a slip of paper, she starts scrawling, saying, “There’s always room on the gutting crew. I’m putting you down for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Those are big hunting and fishing days. They can use an extra hand then.”