A Matter of Heart (8 page)

I’m a mission. That’s all I
am to him: a stinking mission that’s part of the gig.

I let another rock fly; this
time he does dodge my shot before leaping to his feet. “What the hell!?”

Something unwanted clogs my
throat. “Since you have no phone, can you at least get through to Jonah? So
somebody knows where the hell we are?”

He takes a couple of
tentative steps towards where I’m sitting. “I already did while you were
sleeping. He’s got a general idea of where we are, but he’s on a completely
different plane right now. I’m not sure if . . .”

His pause tricks me into looking
up at him. Bastard. “
If
?”

“Some of the Elders have
tracked his group down, too.”

My mind has trouble
unwrapping these words into something I can understand. “Meaning?”

“He’s in a similar
situation, C. And although he knows about us, there’s not much he can do about
it right now. Not until things are calm on his end.”

Can this day get any worse?
“Are you saying he’s trapped in a cave, too?”

“Not a cave, no.”

I lurch to my feet.
Worst-case scenario, here I come after all. “
Where then?!
”

It’s bad enough when he
says, “Does it really matter, since there’s nothing we can do?” What makes it
worse is how bloody calm he manages to sound while doing so. I very nearly blow
a fuse.

My teeth grind together. “
Tell
me
.”

A little bit of his edge
comes out. “Fine. He’s in a dungeon.” When my eyes threaten to pop out of their
sockets, he clarifies, “Not as a prisoner, mind you. It was the easiest place
for the team to defend.”

Jonah. Is in. A DUNGEON. I’m
just about to destroy the wall I’d so carefully reinforced hours before when
Kellan blocks my path. “Calm down. There’s absolutely nothing you can do about
Jonah right now.”

“Wanna bet? I can blast us
out of here so we can go get—”

Kellan’s eyes unfocus as he
cuts me off. “Quiet, will you? Jonah wants to tell you something.” Then he’s no
longer really paying me much attention. He’s listening to his brother, instead.
“Chloe . . . Please don’t worry about me right now . . . I’m okay, I swear . .
. I’m far more worried about . . . what’s going on with you and my brother . .
.there.” Kellan rolls his eyes, but continues, “Promise me you’ll stay safe.
It’s hard enough . . . knowing that you’re under attack, but . . . it would
ease my mind some if I knew you and Kellan were . . . not taking unnecessary
risks.”

I stare at Kellan like he’s
a Hydra. They’ve never communicated like this to me before. It’s unsettling, at
the very least, to hear Jonah’s words delivered via Kellan’s voice.

“Fine,” I tell them both.

Kellan turns away and is
silent for a long time, no doubt talking to his brother. The flashlight clicks
over and over again. The fire in me extinguishes and is replaced with a
sickening sense of dread: I’m in a cave, trapped. So is Kellan. Jonah is in a
dungeon, trapped.

We
are all trapped and under attack by beings that want us dead.

The Elders never let up. If
I’d thought my nerves were raw before, that was nothing compared to the shreds
I’m left with now.

I ask Kellan for perhaps the
fiftieth time how long he thinks we’ve been in here. Once more, he patiently
endures my question before estimating a proper answer.

Why this is annoying is
beyond me. Or why it nearly enrages me when Caleb suggests asking him to keep
track of time rather than Kellan, considering he’s actually not in the cave and
in company of numerous time-telling devices.

If only Caleb was able to
tell somebody where I am, or where Jonah is. But Consciences are never allowed
to speak of their charges. Which is normally great, but now? Highly
inconvenient.

It’s Kellan’s turn to study
me as I pace back and forth, alternately kicking and throwing rocks. I’m well
on my way to making us a rubble-free zone when he finally says, as quietly as
one can over the mind-numbing din from outside, “Being angry serves no real
purpose right now.”

Why does he have to be so
good at being an Emotional? Not only can he and Jonah pinpoint an exact feeling
in a plethora of jumbled, messy ones, but they can also sense out the whys,
wheres, whos and hows beyond such emotions. Jonah tells me that he chooses to
tune most people out when he isn’t on a mission because it can wear him down to
be privy to numerous emotions over an extended amount of time, but I’m the one
person he never, ever blocks out. It’s a Connection thing, he says, less
because he’s physically incapable of doing it and more because he sees that
link to me as comforting. How anyone, even Jonah, can find my crazy feelings
comforting is truly astounding.

I wonder if Kellan is the
same.

But no—he’s chosen to block
me out for eight months. Longer even, if I were to count the time in high
school he avoided me. He chose to stay away.

He chose to let me go.

Anger transitions to sorrow.
My emotions are all over the place, and I don’t know if I ought to just hold
onto the roller coaster or simply let go.

“You know this is how it has
to be,” Kellan tells me from his spot on the wall. He’s twisting the studded
leather cuff on his wrist over and over, looking as miserable as I feel. But
then, when he realizes my eyes are on him, the misery is replaced with
indifference.

The fact that he can look so
calm, so indifferent at will when I am angsting thankfully turns the sorrow
back to anger. “Must be nice, having all the answers.”

His head leans back against
the wall. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

I laugh. It’s completely
unattractive sounding, all brittle and false. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He lets go of the cuff and
rubs at his hair. “What do you want me to say here? I’m trying my best.”

Maybe it’s the situation
we’re in, trapped inside some random cave on the Elvin plane. Maybe it’s the
fact that we haven’t spoken more than a sentence to each other in nearly eight
months. Maybe it’s because I’m incredibly messed up, someone who selfishly
clings to things she shouldn’t. Maybe it’s in reaction to hearing that Jonah’s
struggling right now, too and it’s making me needy because there’s nothing I
can do. Maybe it’s because there’s a very real possibility that we might never
get out of this cave alive. But I can no longer help myself. I blurt out,
laughing that ugly laugh, “What’s that? Trying your best to pretend I don’t
even exist anymore?”

Caleb does the mental
equivalent of throwing his hands in the air in defeat. I ignore him. Clearing
the air, seeing where we stand, laying the cards on the table—whatever it is
I’m trying to do, and the truth is, even I’m not so sure at the moment what
that might be, feels just as critically important as breathing.

The cuff spins on his wrist.
“Don’t do this, C.”

Where does he get off,
acting the victim? I plow forward, incensed. “You—”

“
Don’t
,” he stresses,
and his eyes are so sad, so . . . so vulnerable, I guess. Only for the quickest
of seconds, not long enough for me to assure myself they were really there or
not. But I pause long enough for Caleb to barrage me with a hundred and six
reasons why Kellan is right with his request.

Not to mention remind me how
Kellan is technically receiving the short end of the stick when it comes to the
Connection we share. Because I chose Jonah. And how that must truly suck for
Kellan, knowing he can never be with his Connection.

The large cave closes in
around me. My skin is too hot, my clothes too tight. The air is hard to pull
into my lungs. All of my thoughts scatter, and I’m seeing Kellan for the first
time in my history class in high school, and the letter he wrote telling me he
no longer thought we could be friends in perfect, excruciating clarity, and a
zillion other moments, small and large. And my heart hurts, physically aches
while bites are taken out of it.

But when I look back at
Kellan, boredom practically radiates from every pore. And that just slays me,
because here I am, feeling so many, many things, and he’s acting like he
doesn’t have a singular care in the worlds, now I’ve gone quiet and he’s gotten
his way.

Had I imagined it? Was the
vulnerability yet another act he’s perfected that I’ve always been too blind to
notice before? Or, worse yet—did he
force
me to back down by
manipulating my feelings without my permission?

I want to wipe that
expression off his face.

I want to hurt him like he’s
hurting me. Hit him where it counts.

My fists clench. “You’re an
asshat.”

And he proves it, because he
doesn’t even bother looking at me. Instead, he yawns before offering a
leisurely, “That’s probably true.”

Nothing Caleb can say will
stem this tide now. “Do you want to know what I hear about you?”

Now he’s picking at his
nails. “Not particularly.”

I stomp closer. “Why are you
acting like this?”

His eyes finally find mine.
And if he’s truly acting, he’s worthy of golden awards, because damn if I don’t
see anything other than boredom and disdain in those orbs of blue. “Acting like
what?”

“Like you . . . I don’t
know. Don’t care or something!”

He looks me up and down, and
had anyone else done that with the same look of carefully cultivated derision,
I just might’ve slapped them. “Whatever.”

I struggle to find anything
that will sting. “Jonah would’ve gotten us out of here by now. He wouldn’t be
sitting on his ass, picking at his nails. He would have done something by now.”

Kellan looks up at me,
eyebrows raised. Daring me to continue.

I throw out my coup de
grȃce. “I wish it was him here.”

He surges to his feet. “That
makes two of us.” When he’s not two feet away, he snaps, “Jonah puts up with
your shit way too often. Grow up, Chloe.”

I bristle. “Yeah, well, to
put up with my shit, he actually has to be
around
me. Which isn’t
something you are mature enough to do.”

Now he laughs. “Is that the
problem? I’m not being mature enough for you?”

“Let’s see.” I pretend to
consider this. “
No
.”

I’m scrutinized before he
lets out another laugh. “Wow. You actually believe that.”

I cross my arms and lift an
eyebrow of my own. Despite Caleb’s very vocal censure, I let my body and soul
fill with all of the toxic sensations of just how much Kellan’s let me down
this last year.

It hits home, just like I
knew it would. Kellan’s eyes narrow; his lean frame tightens with barely
controlled anger. “You think
I’m
an asshat? How about this: you’re a
bitch.”

This might’ve once made me
cry, but I’m reveling in the fact he’s losing his perfect control.
“That’s
probably true.”

A step brings him so close
his hot breath hits my cheek. “It’s always all about you, isn’t it? What Chloe
wants. What Chloe needs. You never stop to think about what other people want
or need, do you?”

I lob another of his words
at him. “
Whatever
.”

He surprises me by
immediately cutting to the heart of the matter. “Have you ever stopped to think
why I keep my distance?”

All the time, I think,
before my self-righteous anger slaps back the rising guilt.

My neck cranes to look up at
him. He’s trembling, he’s so angry. “Or stop to consider that Jonah might be
listening to all of this insane bullshit you’re spewing right now?”

Okay. That gives me pause,
not to mention alarm.

“That he can see right
through your tantrum and know, just as easily as I, why you’re actually doing
all of this?”

My heart does a funny
stutter. “Is he?”

“Oh, so it’s alright to put
the brakes on if Jonah’s listening, but otherwise, it’s okay to torture me,
huh?”

I don’t need Caleb to tell
me to retreat. I’ve crossed too many lines here, and I’m well aware of it. I
physically take a step back. “Kellan, I—”

“You,
what
?” He
closes the gap I just created. “You’re
sorry
? I already know you are.
You’re upset over me keeping my distance? I already know that, too.”

“You chose to stay away,” I
manage to whisper over the screaming outside.

And then he says, “You’re
engaged to my brother.”

And my heart breaks.

“I am
trying
.”
There’s no more indifference, no remnants of boredom. He is all wild anger now.
“Do you know how hard it’s been for me, what it’s been like to actually act
upon what’s best for you and my brother, rather than myself?” I open my mouth,
but he cuts me off immediately. “No, of course you don’t. You’re only thinking
about yourself, about your hurt feelings. Gods forbid you actually take a
moment to consider
mine
.”

The cave spins around me. I
want to reach out and grab something, to steady myself against his attack, but
there’s nothing, no one nearby but him.