The Hidden (Heartfire) (6 page)

And it was a
big
community. It wasn't just the people who were actually involved with the team or the sport. There were hangers on a plenty. Groupies, sponsors, alumni, local business owners. Even agents looking for the next big thing.

"Son!"

A heavy hand slapped my back. I turned, my hand sliding down to clasp Kaylia's. I felt her tense up beside me. I could almost feel her emotions sometimes.
 

From what I could tell, she was definitely not looking forward to this moment.

"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend Kaylia."

I watched as my parents froze, looks of unhappy shock all over their faces. My dad covered it quickly but my mom still had that pinched look of disapproval that she got when something was not to her liking. Which was a lot.

They were pretty much staring at Kaylia as if she were a fish with wings.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. and Mr. Westen."

Her sweet voice cut through the silence with a charming twang. But they didn't say a word in reply. Kaylia raised her chin as my parents continued to stare at her oddly. I started to get angry. I just shook my head at my parents rude behavior.

There was no way I was going to let them treat Kaylia this way.

"Let's get out of here. Mom, Dad, you disappoint me. Have a nice night."

I brushed past them, pulling Kaylia in my wake. I could feel my parents behind me. They were calling my name. Kaylia tugged against my hand.

"Dylan, wait."

I only stopped because Kaylia wanted me to. Not for them. They could go to hell for all I cared.

My mother caught up with us and smiled tremulously.

"We were just surprised dear."

"Yeah, right."

My father wore a stern expression on his face.

"You didn't tell us you had a friend Dylan."

"She's my
girlfriend,
Dad. And I want to bring her home with us for Thanksgiving in the morning."

"We'll have to talk about that first. In private."

"Dyl- it's fine. I have to go see Gran anyway."

Kaylia turned stiffly to face my parents. I could tell how much it cost to her to look them in the eye. She held her head up like the brave girl she was.

"It was very nice to meet you."

I glared at my folks, utterly disgusted. I wanted her with me over the break. They had just ruined everything.
 

Not to mention the way they were acting made me wonder if they were a little bit racist.

"I'm going to walk Kaylia back to her dorm. I'll see you in the morning."

Kaylia

∏

"Dylan. It's fine."

Dylan raked his hand through his hair beside me.

"No, it's not Kaylia."

"They aren't going to let me come. You know that. Just let it go. It's only five days."

He stopped walking and turned to face me. I sighed heavily at the look on his face. Just because Dylan was wonderful, didn't mean his parents were. He took my shoulders, pulling me towards him.

"I want you with me."

"They don't approve of me, Dylan. Of us... You aren't going to be able to change their minds. I can tell."

"Why wouldn't they like you? It makes no sense."

I shrugged. It didn't matter why really. There was no way around it. My boyfriend's parents had taken an immediate dislike to me.

It was easy to understand. I was the mousy girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Why would they want their rich, handsome son to choose someone like me?

But he
had
chosen me. And there was nothing they could do about it.

We were just going to have to work around them.

I had to get him to understand. Nothing would tear us apart. But we needed to pick out battles.

"It's okay, Dylan, I need to see my Gran."

He looked crestfallen. As if he'd been ready for a fight. Looking forward to it, even. I knew he didn't like to be away from me for a whole day, let alone almost an entire week.

"You're sure?"

I cupped his cheek, trying to reassure him. He was upset enough as it was.

"Yes, I'm sure. I couldn't have come for more than a day or two anyway."

He stared into my eyes for a long minute then nodded. He pulled me into his strong arms and kissed me passionately, standing in full view of anyone who walked past my dorm.

It reminded me of the way he had pulled me against his side after the game. It was almost like he was showing off. Claiming me.

He picked me up and twirled me, making me let out a squeal.

"But you're coming home for Christmas with me. I'm going to spoil you rotten."

I giggled against his shoulder. He set me down again, staring down at me intently.

"Promise me, Kaylia."

"Okay, I promise."

I sighed as I watched him walk away. He looked back over his shoulder at me. Twice. I knew how he felt.

I was going to miss him too.

Chapter Nine

Dylan

♛

I stared open mouthed at my father.

"You knew this could happen?"

After three days of sullen dinners and barely talking, my father had brought me into his study for 'a talk.'

I was surprised as hell at what he had to say.

My father poured himself another bourbon and stared out the window of his study. My dad didn't usually drink so much. He was the kind of guy who liked to stay in control at all times.

It had never occured to me before that he might have a very good reason for that.

He took a deep swig of the drink and then another. Clearly he needed courage to get through this conversation. Now I understood why.

"We tried to keep you from it Dylan. To protect you until you were ready- old enough to understand. As my father protected me."

I stared at my father's back, trying to control my temper. It didn't work. I jumped up, grabbing the older man's shoulder and turning him around.

"You knew this could happen and you didn't warn me?"

Garret Westen held up his hands in surrender.

"How could we know you would find one of - of them? There are so few left. I thought they were all gone. And our line has been diluted over the years. Deliberately, I might add."

"One of
what,
Dad?"

My father backed away from me slowly.

"That girl. The one you've been seeing. Don't tell me she isn't involved in this."

I clenched my fists. He was bringing Kaylia into this. That made my anger triple almost instantly.

No. It
quadrupled
.

"What about her?"

"She's trash, son. She's just a low class witch."

I rushed forward, looming over my father. Suddenly he seemed very small to me. Weak. He'd never turned. He didn't have an ounce of my power.

"Never speak about her that way again."

I lifted my fist and grabbed my fathers shirt, yanking him forward. Bourbon splashed all over the rug. I was on the brink of beating the living crap out of my dad.

God knows he deserved it.

"In fact, never speak of her at all."

"Dylan! Garret!"

My mother's voice cracked out like a whip.

"Let go of your father this instant."

Slowly, never breaking eye contract, I lowered my fist. I turned and saw my mother looking at me sternly.

"Come. Now."

She turned and left the room without looking to see if I followed. I was tempted to leave. Just go and never come back. Kaylia and I would be fine without my family money. We'd manage somehow.

It would be better with just the two of us anyway.

I cursed and followed my mother out of the house. I owed her the chance to speak her peace. Plus, I wanted answers.

"Here."

My mother handed me an axe.

"What's this for?"

"You look like you need to destroy something. I need this Rose of Sharon removed. Then we can talk."

I stared at her, then took the axe. Twenty minutes later I was covered in sweat. The ten foot bush was gone, and so was some of my rage.

But nowhere near all of it.

My mother brought out a tray of iced tea and sat in one of the adirondack chairs under the huge oak in the far corner of the yard. I walked over there, dropping the axe at her feet. She said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at me and held out a frosty glass. I took the glass from her grudgingly.

"You're burning up."

I shrugged, finishing the cool drink in one gulp.
 

"It's hot out."

"It's forty degrees outside."

She pulled her jacket closer around herself and stared up me.

"Sit down for Christs sake."

I grunted and did as she asked. I knew that if I was going to get any straight answers, they were going to come from my mother. Pamela Westen always did wear the pants in the family.

"Your father is the same way. Always hot. I used to think it was romantic, like having my own personal furnace. Until your grandmother told me why."

I said nothing. I just waited. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what I heard.

"Listen, Dylan. You have to believe we had your best interests in mind. We were trying to protect you. The family has carefully bred itself for centuries to weaken the strain. Obviously it's more potent than we thought. Or maybe you're something special. A throwback."

She took a deep breath.

"But I don't think it can be stopped. "

"It?"

"The blood. It's something in the blood. That's why you've only seen one doctor since you were born, son. We didn't want anyone to treat you like some sort of a freak."
My lips twisted in a sardonic smile.

"But I
am
a freak, mother. I'm a monster. And only one person can help me."

Her hand came down on my forearm, cool and soothing.

"No. You are a wonderful boy. You always have been. This... disease doesn't change that. But now that this thing is unleashed... well, there's nothing that can be done."

She sighed deeply.

"You've changed already?"

I nodded.

"I think so. Maybe not completely. Not when I'm awake."

"The dreams... your father had them once. A beautiful woman was there with him. He used to call her name in his sleep. But he never admitted it when he was awake. Still, I knew. I hated her for a long time."

She laughed bitterly.

"Then I got the doctor to give him sleeping pills."

She put her hand on my arm, serious again.

"But you've chosen to face the dreams... and you'll need the girl to do it. I don't know how long you'll be able to keep her safe but without her, the strain will take over. You won't be able to control it."

"What do you mean 'keep her safe'?"

"I thought your father told you-"

"What do you mean, Mother?"

I felt rage bubble up from my bones. My teeth were sharpening, my muscles starting to bulge. I growled at her, needing to know the answer, fear clawing at my insides.

My mother shrank back in her chair, clearly terrified. But she didn't run. She must have known I wouldn't hurt her.

"The girl. She's in danger too."

"What do you mean?"

"There are others like you son. They would do anything to have a key like her- like Kaylia. There are so few left."

"A key?"

She nodded. I stared at her, shocked at what I was hearing. Kaylia was part of this... a bigger part than I'd imagined.

"That's what she is. She's from a long line of potent witches. She must have unlocked the strain. She probably can do other things too, though I doubt she knows any of it. Her kind has been descimated by the Western Tribes."

"Tribes?"

"There's so much that I don't know son. We didn't need to think about it. Your father's curse was never triggered. He never sought out the woman from his dreams.

I stared at her, my mind in a whir. One thing I did know, my mother was telling the truth. And she seemed truly sorry.

In fact, she was acting like I was already gone.

"I'm so sorry. We thought about not having children... or adopting. We didn't want anyone else to suffer."

She looked at me, her cool hand cupping my cheek.

"But we wanted you so badly. And I don't regret it. Truly. I just wish I could tell you more."

I stared at my mother. She was telling the truth. She was on my side. Her reaction to Kaylia had been born from that.

My father on the other hand... I had a feeling he was jealous that I'd embraced my dreammate. Something he'd never had the courage to do.

"That's all you know? Is there anyone else I can ask?"

She shook her head.

"Not since your Grandmother passed. I do know that there are others and that they are dangerous. Far more than you can imagine. They killed your grandfather, Dylan. It was... incredibly gruesome."

I closed my eyes. This was worse than I imagined.

"What do they want with Kaylia?"

"They will want to use her to awaken the next generation. And the next. Her kind have hidden themselves for a reason, just like we have."

"So I'll protect her."

"It might already be too late. They aren't like you, Dylan. They aren't good. They're cruel, ferocious. There are dozens of them. They haven't fought the disease. They've embraced it."

She looked at me solemnly.

"They thrive on the kill."

Kaylia

♛

I stood in the center of my tiny, cozy room. Everything was the same as it had ever been, even my quilt. I'd brought it home with me, unwilling to leave it unprotected in my dorm for even a few days.

If Gran had seen me, she would have had something saracastic to say. Something about gathering wool and foolishness. But she was already in bed, reading one of her cozy mysteries that she loved so well.

She also didn't know how frightened I was.

I stared at my bed, chewing my bottom lip nervously. I was tired from traveling all day to get home to Gran. But I was also afraid to go to sleep.

For the first time in my life, I was afraid to dream.

I didn't want to see
him
again. The creature with the gray streak in it's fur. He was visiting me every night now. And lately, he'd been bringing others.