Kiss of Fire (29 page)

“I am not surprised,” she said darkly. “Edmund made Ryland torture Ilyan, too.”

“What?” I asked, the memory of Ilyan’s scarred chest filling my mind.

Wyn looked at me guiltily for a minute, thinking she may have said something she shouldn’t have.

“About three years ago, Ilyan was captured in Greece. Edmund could have killed him then, but he made Ryland do it instead, or rather try to; Ilyan is exceptionally powerful...” she faded out and I looked away, not really wanting to hear anymore.

Ryland was about thirteen in the Tȍuha. Only years before that, he had been forced to kill his mother. About the same time, the bright red hand print had appeared on his face and we had fled to the mountain for the first time. Three years ago would have made him about fifteen, about the time we started breaking into hospitals and defying his father even more. Ryland had gone through all that, and through it all, he had smiled and never said a word. I felt the bile rise in my throat.

“I need a shower.”

“You still have five minutes,” Wyn protested, but I just waved her off. I doubted five minutes would make that much difference.

I was grateful it took so long to get all of the hair dye out. The bright red and dark black streams of color swirled around each other as they slid across the floor of the tub on their way down the drain. I watched the water as I thought about all the people Edmund had hurt, all the people he was still hurting. Strangely, I didn’t feel like I wanted to cry; I just felt sick and angry. I fought the anger; I didn’t like the way it consumed me.

The swirls of red against the tub began to fade as I thought of my mother, even though the pain of her loss was still an open wound. I thought of how Ryland had hugged her the last time I had seen her alive. I thought of our happy smiles and of painting our fingernails ridiculous colors. I thought of Ryland when we got lost in the cemetery, when we played in the fountain at the park near his house. Also, strangely enough, I thought of my father.

He had, in his own way, tried to save me, too. I thought of the good memories from my childhood, part of me wondering where he had disappeared to since giving me the stone. Even Ilyan had said he didn’t know where he was. Before long, I was smiling. While the anger at what Edmund had done was still there, it no longer dominated me.

As I continued to rinse the dye out of my hair, it became apparent exactly how much Wyn had cut off. I wasn’t even sure I had any hair left. The hair on the back of my head was all but gone; only short hairs, about an inch long, were left. The front half was longer, one side more than the other. I guess I needed some hair to cover the kiss.

I stepped out of the shower reluctantly, not really wanting to look in the mirror yet. I threw on my pajamas and went to find Wyn, a towel wrapped around my head, even though there was no point. I walked into the bedroom to find not only Wyn, but Talon, Ovailia, Ilyan and about seven other Skȓíteks as well. I wished I could run back into the bathroom, but the sight of Ilyan made me stop short.

He was dressed in one of the many perfectly-laundered tunics I had seen in his closet that first day. The shirt was long and white, with simple trim in deep gold and purple. A large gold medallion hung around his neck, reaching down his chest halfway. The shirt was cinched to him with a dark leather belt that matched the boots that came to his knees. The worst part was the intricate, jewel-encrusted gold crown he wore on his head. He looked like he was going to a masquerade party. I fought the urge to laugh, instead opting to stare at him, open-mouthed.

“Manners, Joclyn, mrȁvy,” Ilyan scolded roughly.

I looked around me confused and then did the only thing that made sense, given the situation; I curtseyed.

“My Lord.”

“Let me see it, Joclyn,” Ilyan commanded sternly, his eyes glancing toward my hair line. I removed the towel obediently, feeling uncomfortable. I felt the two remaining clumps of hair swing forward, a chilled breeze tickling my neck.

Ilyan came forward and ran his fingers through my wet hair as he dutifully inspected Wyn’s work. My hair was now so short, I could feel his fingers rub against my scalp. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and my shoulders jerked up toward my ears. Ilyan just smiled at me.

“Good, Wyn. The darker, the better on the face, I think.” He moved away from me, his small entourage following him to the door.

“We leave tomorrow at nine. Sleep well, Joclyn.” His voice softened just enough to take away the tension that had formed in my neck. He motioned the others out and closed the door behind him, leaving Wyn and me alone.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated.

My nerves and butterflies came back instantly; twenty-four hours and Ryland would be here. Safe.

I could do this.

After Wyn had finished with me, I didn’t even recognize myself. My eyes looked like pools of black on a pure white face. Every time I opened them, the glittering silver of my irises flashed menacingly, the shimmering color surprisingly bright against the black. My lips were dark, too; the dark burgundy setting off the vibrant red that saturated the front of my hair. The severe cut was nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. It was almost like a reverse mullet; a short, boy-cut in the back and stark, straight, longer lengths plastered to my head near my face. The back was dark black that faded into the bright red framing my face.

Wyn had gone one step further by giving my body the persona to match my hair. She had insisted I place a small magnet in my nose that resembled a nose ring and had taken about an hour to draw on a tattoo with a ball point pen. The constant pressure of the tiny pen-tip against my skin had hurt, although not as much as I assumed a real tattoo would. After an hour of being drawn on, my skin had thankfully gone numb, and she had left me with an intricate spider web that stretched all the way down my left arm and across my back.

I wore what could only be described as “club clothes”: tight black pants that Wyn had to magically get me into, matched with what my mom would deem stripper heels, and a lime green, loose-fitting, backless shirt. Combine the face and hair with the tight-fitting, revealing clothes, and it gave me the appearance of a popular girl on her way to the club. I felt a desperate need to appear more confident than I really was.

I still felt like the insecure, scared girl I had always been. I looked at myself in the mirror and tugged at my clothes, desperate for some sort of comfort. Standing there alone reminded me so much of my first day without my hoodie. I clutched my necklace, remembering how Ryland had been right there to support me that day, how he had only looked into me and told me how beautiful I was. I exhaled deeply, the memory heaving through me like caffeine.

After Wyn had placed the finishing touches on my disguise, about twenty of us met in the middle of the courtyard in preparation for leaving. I wasn’t the only one who had changed my appearance. Ilyan had cut his hair short and dyed it brown. Talon had kept his hair long, but had bleached it white; from the back he almost looked like Ilyan. I got the distinct impression that was the idea.

I pulled and tugged at my clothes as I walked toward the group, not wanting so much of my body to be visible. We all gathered together and took off into the sky, following Ilyan to a small run-down conference center in a city I didn’t recognize. He herded us into a small room, with the sole intent of holding a planning meeting.

Ilyan had been speaking nonstop since the meeting began; he wrote on an old chalkboard, separated us into groups, and spoke to each member of each group individually. I didn’t understand a word; everyone was speaking only in Czech. I shifted my weight again, my body sore and stiff against the folding metal chair I sat in.

I looked around; luckily, I wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Wyn sat in the back next to Ovailia whose icy stare was penetrating Ilyan as he continued to lay out what I could only assume was the plan of attack. Ovailia had spoken up several times during the meeting, and although I had no idea what she was saying, her voice was still venomous.

Suddenly, everyone stood in succession, the quick movement startling me. I stood with them, but immediately regretted it as they all began to pull chairs together and sit down in smaller groups. I sat back down, hoping no one had seen my blunder, and focused on my strappy four-inch heels as I once again adjusted my clothes.

I just wanted to disappear, and this outfit did not give me that opportunity. I tried to pull out my confidence for rescuing Ryland, but it was no use; only nervous energy remained.

“So, did you enjoy the meeting?” I looked up just as Ilyan pulled up a chair directly in front of me. His hair was too off-putting; I couldn’t seem to stop looking at it. It just made him look too much like Ryland would look without his curls.

“I suppose it would have been great if I had understood anything.”

“Sorry about that. But don’t worry, I’m here to give you the Cliff Notes.” He leaned forward and my eyes drifted to his short brown hair again in an effort to avoid eye contact.

“Gee, thanks.”

“We discussed our attack plan.”

I looked up expectantly, but he just sat there staring at me.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

Two hours of sitting in a hard chair and they had discussed the “attack plan”. Great.

“So what are they doing now? Planning the after-party?” I spat bitterly, but instead of laughing, Ilyan’s face fell instantly.

“They are saying goodbye to their loved ones, Silnỳ.”

I peeked around him to see Wyn and Talon with their arms wrapped around each other, a few other pairs coupled off around them. Most of the others were quietly talking on cell phones. I sat back in my chair, my nerves jumping angrily.

“Are you saying goodbye to your loved ones, too?” My eyes floated to Ovailia who stood against the wall, her head bowed.

“Of course.”

My stomach jumped at his response. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it as my confidence wavered. Ilyan chuckled at my indecision and leaned back against his chair with his arms folded as if he was getting ready for a show. I determinedly looked away from him, but my eyes were automatically drawn to his hair again.

“Are you going to be looking at my hair all night, Joclyn?”

“No!” I responded, a blush at being caught rushing to my cheeks. “It just looks so weird on you.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Ilyan said, pulling on one of the long, red strands that hung down at the sides of my face.

“Don’t remind me. My hair grows slowly, too; I am going to be stuck with this hairdo forever.”

To my embarrassment, Ilyan laughed, causing several people to turn.

“What?”

“You can grow it back with your magic, Joclyn.” Ilyan chuckled deeply at me, causing a furious blush to deepen against my cheeks.

“What?”

“Didn’t Wyn tell you?”

“No!” My mouth hung open in frustration.

Ilyan only continued to smile. “No wonder you looked so depressed when I saw you last night.”

Truthfully, I hadn’t been depressed because of my hair; I had been more concerned about his wicked father, but I wasn’t going to get into that right before we left to rescue his youngest brother.

I shook my head and slammed my bare back against the cold, metal chair. I tried to shift my clothes again, but there simply wasn’t enough fabric.

“So… are you going to tell me what this attack plan is?”

He sighed before nodding once and then angled his chair so we could both see the group that was still shuffling around the conference room.

“Wyn, Talon, Evert and Glenna will be clearing the roof. Ovailia, Ferne and Nyse will be clearing the upper hallways. Adyl, Benton and Eber will already be stationed at the party. Delia, Iolo, Jevon and Evadne will be clearing the exterior; and Tace and Zilla will be our forward guard. You will be with me.” He pointed each of them out as he spoke; my mind unable to connect faces with their unusual names.

“And what do we do?”

“Rescue Ryland,” he stated quietly. “I need you to get him to leave with you. We will all serve as some form of a distraction and guard while you get him out. Once you leave, we all leave. The longer you wait, the more dangerous this mission is for everyone.”

“Get him out, sounds easy enough,” I sighed sarcastically, thinking my task sounded anything but easy.

Getting him to follow me out would be easy, as long as he was Ryland. If he wasn’t Ryland, I wasn’t sure what he would do. He had attacked me in the Tȍuha when he had changed. If he did attack me tonight, I was not sure I was powerful enough yet to fight him off. Worse yet, what if I got him out as Ryland, and he changed once we left.

I sighed and sank into my chair a bit, feeling completely useless.

“I hope you’re right.” Ilyan’s hands writhed; he seemed to be thinking along the same lines I was. “We will go in under Zmizȇt and make our way into the main hall; that is where Ryland will be.”

“Zmizȇt?”

“Yes, it’s a shield that can cause you to be invisible. Of course, if it works in the LaRue estate with the same effectiveness it did on you, then we are all in trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my face squished together in confusion.

“All those times you saw me in your school, I was shielding myself with Zmizȇt. But it didn’t work so well on you.” He narrowed his eyes at me curiously. “I wonder why that is?”

I shrank away from him as his blue eyes flashed dangerously. Was I broken or something? I couldn’t get my magic beyond my necklace, but I could see people who were supposed be invisible? Definitely broken.

“You’re the king; you tell me.” I wished I could move away from him a bit.

“Manners, Joclyn.” Ilyan didn’t even flinch as Ovailia came up beside him. I, however, got the full extent of her glare and had to fight the urge to run away.

“I hate to interrupt, but it is time to go.”

“So it is.” Ilyan stood and moved away, leaving Ovailia alone with me. I had hoped she would follow him, but instead, she stepped closer.

“I would like you to know, Joclyn; I am only doing this to save my brother. I have no intention of saving you. If you get cornered, you’re on your own.” She smiled acidly at me, waiting for me to respond. Her look reminded me of the way Cynthia McFadden would use to egg me on. I shrank away from her instinctively. She glared toward me for only a moment longer before striding out of the room. I slumped back down in my chair.

I had the excited nerves of an audition, mixed with the raw, icy fear of going into the unknown. I shook my head, emptying the thought of Ovailia’s comment from the nervous strangulation that was taking hold of me. The room had emptied of everyone but me and Ilyan before he turned and gestured toward me.

“I am going to have to carry you to Ryland’s house, if you don’t mind?” he said as we walked outside to where the others had gathered.

“What?” I was suddenly appalled.

“It’s a risk for everyone if you have liquid memories of how to get back to the motel.”

“What do you mean? I’m not a risk,” I retorted, remembering all too vividly Ovailia’s words in the courtyard.

“If you are captured, I don’t need your memories to guide them to the motel. Since I don’t have time to teach you to perform a Zmizȇt, I need to be in contact with your skin.”

“And you have to carry me? Why can’t we just hold hands or something?” I suggested, irritated by the idea.

“If you won’t let me carry you, Joclyn, I will just put you to sleep.”

I grumbled in acceptance before allowing him to cradle me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck, worried that he would drop me. He laughed at me softly; I knew full well how ridiculous I was acting, especially considering that the last time he had carried me like this, I hadn’t been able to move.

We all swept into the air in unison, Ilyan leading us to what I was sure was certain doom.

This whole week, I had been confident that this was a sure thing, that everything would go perfectly. Then, last night, Ilyan had shattered my little delusional fantasy. This was not going to be easy; it would be dangerous. What was worse—we might fail.

“You need to close your eyes, Silnỳ.”

I obeyed him.

“What happens if we can’t get him out, Ilyan?” I asked into the darkness.

“We will get him out.” His voice was so determined, I could almost detect that maniacal power in him already.

“But what if…”

Ilyan’s arms tightened around me, pushing my torso into him.

“We will get him; do not worry.”

I didn’t dare say anymore. I didn’t really want to think about it, anyway; thinking of failure almost seemed like a curse on this whole venture.

We landed among the lilac bushes, azaleas and roses behind the kitchen door to the large estate. Ilyan put me down, and I opened my eyes apprehensively, surprised to see only Ilyan and the two he had pointed out as our “forward guard”. The others must have already taken their positions.

I looked up at the building curiously, surprised to see nothing but pale white stone. I knew the fire and explosions must have spread to this part of the mansion, yet there was nothing damaged. Ilyan must have been right; they must have repaired the building magically.

Being so close to entering the mansion made me edgy and I found myself shifting my weight and exhaling more than I should. This gained me quite a few dirty looks from Tace and Zilla, but I didn’t care. I doubted anyone could hear me over the noise, anyway.

Happy screams and catcalls filled the air from the pool beyond the bushes; the heavy beat of the music inside pulsed through the air and shook the ground. Ryland’s graduation from high school should have been a happy occasion, not the site for a rescue mission.

I could feel the tension; the pulsing, magical energy flowing from each of us as we sat ready, waiting to pounce. The magic seemed to beat in time with the music that surrounded us; the longer we waited, the louder it grew. Ryland’s necklace sat hot on my skin under my lime green shirt, the intense heat warning me that danger was nearby. I pulsed my magic reflexively, hoping that being this close to Ryland, to Edmund, would provide me with additional control. Nothing happened; Edmund’s restrictive blanket remained a suffocating force over my ability. I swallowed hard, hoping that when the blanket slipped off me, I could control the pent-up energy it would surely release.