Vanish (Firelight #2)(3)

The vapor intensifies, a chilling mist that reminds me of home, of the fog that covers the township in a cool blanket. Shielding us from intruders, from any who would hunt and destroy us; obscuring the minds of those who stumble into our sanctuary.

“Tamra!” I reach for her, but Cassian’s there, free from his attackers, his strong arm pulling me back.

“Let her,” he says.

I glance at his face, recognize the deep, primal satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He’s . . . glad. Happy at what’s happening. What can’t be happening. Tamra’s never manifested before. How can this happen now?

In the moment I look away, it’s done. By the time I look back to Tamra, she has risen several feet off the ground. Her gossamer wings snap behind her, the jagged tips peeking above her silvery shoulders.

“Tamra.” I breathe, absorbing the sight of her, grappling with this new reality. My sister’s a draki. After so long. After thinking we would never have this in common. More than that—she’s a shader.

Her eerily calm gaze sweeps over all of us on the road. Like she knows precisely what to do. And I guess she does. It’s instinct.

I can’t move as I watch her, both beautiful and terrifying with her shimmery skin, her hair leached of all pigment. She lifts her slim arms. Mist rushes over us like fast-burning smoke. So thick I can scarcely see my own hand before my face. The hunters are completely hidden, but I hear them as they holler and shout, bumping into one another, coughing, dropping onto the road like so many dominoes. First one, then another and another. Then nothing.

I strain for a sound in the sudden tomblike silence as Tamra’s fog does what it’s supposed to do and shades, shades, shades . . . everything in its path, every human nearby. Will.

I break away from Cassian and fight desperately through the cooling vapor that clouds both air and mind. Hunters sprawl at my feet, lowered by Tamra’s handiwork. I see nothing through the all-reaching mist; my arms swing wildly through the cold kiss of fog, groping, searching for the car where Will lies.

Then I see him slumped in the backseat of the car. The driver’s door yawns open, letting in the fog. The smoky haze curls around his sleeping form almost tenderly. For a moment I can’t move. Only stare, strangling on my own breath. Even bruised and battered, he’s beautiful.

Then action fires my limbs. I pull open the back door and reach for him. My shaking fingers brush his face and smooth back the honey strands of hair from his forehead. Like silk against my hand.

I jerk as Cassian roars my name. “Jacinda! We have to go! Now!”

And then he’s found me, drags me away toward our car. His other hand grips Tamra. He thrusts her at Mom. Her sparkly new body lights the desert night, cutting us a path through the great billowing mist.

Soon it will fade, evaporate. When Tamra’s gone. When we’ve escaped. The mist will fade. And with it, so will the hunters’ memories.

I’d once suggested to Tamra that her talent just hadn’t manifested yet. That she was simply a late bloomer. Even though I didn’t believe it, I’d said it. To give her hope. Even though, deep down, like the rest of the pride, I thought she was a defunct draki. Instead she’s one of the most rare and prized of our kind. Just like me.

Behind the wheel, Cassian guns the engine and then we’re shooting down the highway. I look behind us through the rear window at the great cloud of white. Will’s in there. My fingers dig against the seat cushion until I feel the worn fabric give and tear beneath the pressure. No, I can’t think about him now—it hurts too much.

My gaze drifts, brushes over the pale version of my sister, and I have to look away. Alarmed at the sight of my own twin, now as foreign to me as this desert.

I inhale a deep, shuddery breath. We’re going home, to mountains and mists and everything familiar. The one place it’s safe to be me. I’m going back to the pride.





Chapter 2

The shrouded township of our pride rises almost magically on the hazy evening air. The narrow dirt road opens wider amid the towering, mist-laced trees and there it lies. Cassian sighs beside me and the tightness in my chest eases a bit. Home.

At first it simply looks like an imposing tangle of vine and bramble, but on closer inspection you can see that it’s actually a wall. Behind it, my world hides in safety. The only place I ever thought I could live. At least before Will.

A guard stands on duty at the arched entry. Nidia’s mist flows in a thick vapor around him. I recognize Ludo at once. One of Severin’s flunkies, an onyx draki that likes to flaunt his muscles. His eyes round when he sees us. Without a word, he takes off into the township.

A guard is a peculiar sight. Nidia’s cottage is positioned at the entrance for a purpose—so she can mark the arrival and departure of anyone. We have her and the watchtowers. A guard is an added precaution, and I wonder at the reason. Did we do this? Did our unsanctioned departure trigger a hypervigilance in security?

Cassian parks in front of Nidia’s cottage. She’s already outside her door, waiting as if she sensed our arrival. And I guess she did. That’s her job, after all.

She stands so serenely; her hands clasped at her waist. The thick rope of her silvery hair hangs over one shoulder. Hair almost identical to Tamra’s. My gaze involuntarily swings to my sister in the backseat, now a shader, too. Mom touches a tendril of her hair as if checking to see that it’s real. I’ve watched her do this several times now.