Tremble (Denazen #3)(3)
“Where is he, Kiernan?”
Eyes narrow, she pulled herself upright using the edge of the tub and folded both arms in defiance. With an attitude I’d grown to love—before she went dark side—she said, “Screw me sideways, bitch.”
I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and that was fine. Better than fine, in fact. It meant I got to hit her again. And I did. I’d had dreams that started like this. Me getting the opportunity to kick the crap out of the girl who’d been the catalyst for the destruction of my life. The problem was, the dreams never ended well—for me.
As soon as she went down, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her feet. There was a comb on the sink beside me. Picking it up, I concentrated on one of Mom’s kitchen knives.
A shudder rippled through my body, along with the tiniest twinge at the base of my temple. A tickle and nothing more. The physical cost of mimicking—which was what I called my Six ability—had, for the most part, become a joke. Bigger things still took a lot out of me. Mimicking an entire person knocked me for a loop, but the days of debilitating pain and gut-wrenching agony had passed and left me with one hell of an advantage.
One I was eager to test out on Kiernan.
The plastic handle of the comb grew cold and smooth as its weight changed. Now, instead of feeling flimsy, it was solid and heavy. The whole process used to fill me with a sense of dread. Now I found it oddly comforting.
Kiernan snickered and shrugged, not the least bit worried. She’d always been the cocky kind. It’d gotten us in trouble on more than one occasion. “You don’t have the guts.”
I pressed the blade against the back of her forearm and moved it a slip. A thin line of red appeared a moment later. “Wanna put it to the test? I think you might be surprised what I have the guts to do now.” I straightened. “You should be proud, actually. You drove me to it.”
She laughed. “Me? It’s the other way around, sister.”
A part of me wanted to know what the hell she was talking about—I’d never been anything but friendly to her—but it was a small part. The rest only wanted to know one thing.
“Tell me where he is.” A small voice inside my head goaded me to make another cut—this time deeper. Kiernan had provoked me by lying and, worst of all, helping Dad recapture Kale. She’d posed as my friend, infiltrated the Underground, then not only fed Dad important information but gave him an all-access pass to the Sanctuary hotel that ended with its destruction and the death of Rosie, one of our own. Did I have the guts to hurt her?
She laughed, unfazed by either the knife or my threats. “Oh, Dez. Dez, Dez, Dez. You sure you really want him back? He’s not the guy you thought he was, trust me.” She leaned closer and blew me an exaggerated kiss. “He’s a screamer, did you know?”
Did I have the guts?
Oh, hell yes. Yes I did.
I jerked the knife away, dragging it hard against her skin. This time, she let out a hiss and tried to yank away from my grip, but I held tight. For a moment, neither of us said anything. A stare-down of epic proportions.
I’d been working with Mom to learn how to fight, but I had a long way to go. Maybe force wasn’t the right tact. Maybe appealing to something deeper would get me the information I was so desperate for. Kiernan was Dad’s lapdog, but she was also my sister, and that had to mean something.
“How could you let him do this?” I released her arm and took a step back to give her some room. “You know what he’s doing to these people—to us! He’s using you just like he is the rest of them. If we stick together, we can—”
“Stick together?” She pushed away from the sink and advanced. “How could I possibly trust you? You turned on your own father!”
I blinked. “Turned on my own father? Have you met the guy? He’s a monster.”
“What he and Denazen are doing is best for all of us.” She shook her head and leaned closer. “Besides, I know you knew about me. You begged him to leave me.”
“Weren’t you there the day we met? Did I look like I had any clue you were my sister?”
“All an act.”
An act? She’d never seen me in the school production of Annie. I had a bit part as an orphan and blew it when I caught sight of Uncle Mark and Brandt in the audience halfway through. I broke character and started waving like an idiot. I’d never lived it down.
“What’s going on?” someone asked from behind.
I froze. The tiny hairs along my arms and on the back of my neck jumped to attention. That voice played on repeat each time I closed my eyes. It was the soundtrack to my dreams and the thing that kept me from slipping over the edge of crazy. I almost didn’t want to turn for fear that I’d finally lost it, and the whole thing was in my head.
When I got the nerve, I turned and found myself face-to-face with the most amazing crystalline blue eyes I’d ever seen.
Kale’s eyes.
2
It was like I’d landed hard after a wipe, air knocked from my lungs and blobs dancing like a Technicolor kaleidoscope behind each eye. He stood in the doorway dressed in worn blue jeans and a long-sleeved black button-down shirt. His hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him. Shaggier in the front and reaching down just below his ears.
Our eyes met and every inch of me filled with a happiness I never expected to get back. Kale. Here. In one piece.