Flame (Fireborn) Page 2
"Oh my gosh, I can't breathe!" The girl "next" to me shouts above the cheering to her friend. "I'm so excited! I can't believe they're going to be here, in our town, in our school. Eeek!" she squeals with girlish pleasure. Her friend replies back with similar shrill sounds. Candace. We have Calculus together, but no one would know it looking at the wide space between us. It's crowded. Unusually so, but not a single person thinks to move closer to me.
The second aircraft lands in a cornfield next to us. The screen's split. One half shows images of the ambassador and a few of his cabinet members. The other zooms in on a spot that is probably a door, but it's hard to tell because there are no lines defining it. Someone's trying to talk over the loud speakers, but it's buzzing in the background. The real action is in front of us.
We have an advantage where we are. They call it Lover's Cove. It's corny, and almost no one says it without rolling their eyes or giggling, but it gets the point across. It's a place for lovers. We're on a hill overlooking the drive thru. Vendors are selling their ware like this is a sporting event. I can't fault them though. Even I, Kenna Parker, am toting bloody, almost rare beef patties slathered with cheese, and a deliciously fattening blend of mayonnaise, spicy sriracha sauce, and a touch of sour cream.
The yellow visor over my head is doing a poor job of blocking the heat. It doesn't help that a small cart is strapped onto the front of me like a rectangular backpack carrying sides of cinnamon sticks, fries, and nachos. The mass of people below surges forward, bellowing for more as the ambassador moves closer. Their combined cries overpower Alex's shouts from behind.
"Lemonade!" he yells. "Chucky burgers!" The black Goth clothes and low hanging metal chains are in stark contrast to my yellow, overly bright uniform. His blonde hair is dyed purple at the tips. Being the nephew of the owner lets you get away with things like not wearing the work uniform. I let him promote the product since I've been unable to move for the last twenty minutes. The crowd behind has grown too large to navigate through.
"I bet the students are in the second one!" Candace yells to her friend. The squeals and dreamy sighs following her prediction are enough confirmation. The split screen is now unified. The main cameras face the second aircraft, and two figures appear. The first is a girl. She observes the crowd with confidence. Her blonde brown hair and heart shaped face is as perfect as any can be. She's dressed in a stylish suit. Glowing eyes crinkle as she smiles, waving like a pageant queen. The second figure behind her garners an even louder response.
At first his face is hidden in the shadows, but his eyes glow before his features become visible. He's tall, towering over the girl like a giant. His black hair is darker than the coals we use in the restaurant to smoke meat. When he ducks through the door, his entire face is seen, and a wave of sighs and giggles greet him.
My eyebrows shoot up as I take a step back. He is without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen. I'm not surprised because the Saguinox are known for their beauty, but something foreign flutters through my body. It makes my skin tingle. This is such a strange feeling that I tense. Unable to take my eyes away, I keep looking. A square chin and sharp cheekbones make his appearance hard and intimidating. Even through the screen an air of arrogance emanates from his presence. The first word that comes to my head is intense. Hypnotizing. If I weren't carrying twenty pounds of food, I would've put a hand over my head and swooned the way that Candace dramatically did. Fortunately the smell of grease has a way of sinking through your skin and into your brain. Right now my brain is telling me that I'd be the fried one if I dare drop anything.
"Oomph." Someone bumps into me. Bright blue eyes look down into my hazel ones. "Sorry." He seems surprised. "I didn't see you there." I mumble something incoherent back. Ugh. I'd only been standing here in an extremely yellow uniform for the last half hour. I might've felt hurt if I wasn't so used to it.
He does a double take as he notices the uniform. "Are those wings coming out of your arms?" he asks. Instantly, he bites his lips as if he's said something embarrassing. Most people don't come out and say it the way he does as part of the whole Minnesota nice thing, but curiously stare at the odd choice of work uniform. A yellow shirt and flared golden skirt paired with knee high orange and black striped socks and black flats; all of which are mandatory during work hours. The owner Chuck thought it'd be "eye catching" to add small arm accessories in the shape of fluffy, yellow wings that, when paired with the rest of the getup, made you look suspiciously like a giant chick.
He's waiting politely for an answer, and I nod. "Well that's… interesting," he replies courteously. He turns, and disappears into the group. Within seconds, I'm by myself in my invisible bubble, in a crowd of hundreds. I glance back at the screen. Ambassador Damien is waiting to address the crowd. Even though the mayor is speaking, the cameras focus on the Ambassador's side profile. They capture his prominent nose and the golden luminosity sparkling beneath his thick lashes. Angel eyes, the crowd chants. It's a rhythm that reverberates in my head. Angel eyes, Angel eyes, Angel eyes…
Energy and adoration pour out of every person here with ferocity. Yet, the only thing I feel as I watch his Saguinox smile light up the screen is a sense of resignation.
A lone surfer, barely floating above an empty ocean.
That's what it feels like inside my soul.
Chapter 1
Eighteen years later
I watch as they fly above us. People from all over lined up for days to catch a glimpse. I don't blame them. The TV screen can't quite capture the intoxicating allure oozing out of them like a ripe fruit. Their feet hardly touch the ground before reporters surround them like famished vultures.
The drive thru theater screen looks tiny in comparison to the circular aircraft Ambassador Damien and the other Saguinox arrive in. The ship is round and deceptively flat. It gleams metallic and silver, drawing my eyes to its flashy exterior. No matter how hard I try I can't see any lines where doors or windows might be. Light bounces off the metallic gloss, and it hurts to look closer.
The ambassador is being greeted as if he's a rock star. His mesmerizing looks have been plastered in TV and magazines for months before this day. He's waving to the crowd and flashing a spellbinding smile. Something pink is flying in the air, and hits his chest before falling to the ground. I gape when I realize what it is: a pink, very frilly bra. I'm not surprised, but I do feel a little embarrassed. They're aliens. Do they even like that sort of thing?
Shaking my head at the woman's boldness, I note the rows and rows of vehicles stretched from the screen all the way back to the gate signaling the end of the Valley Drive Thru property. There's less than a foot between each car. Other people are on bleachers set up from the night before. There are multiple cameras. Men hold some, and others are on stands. One camera is higher than the rest. It's also closer. The crane operator knows what people are here to see: a glimpse of the Saguinox Angel eyes.
The sounds of a second ship flying above us ushers another roar of excitement. I wince, covering my ears from a particularly high- pitched scream. The girl next to me- if "next" means a three-foot space separating us- claps her hands enthusiastically. Her whistles are left unanswered as the ship continues forward, ignoring the frenzy. The mass excitement is building, rising higher with each second, like an orchestra crescendo. We have no conductor to pace our energy, and emotions surge, spilling, and swelling until my insides- and my ear drums- might burst at any moment.
"Oh my gosh, I can't breathe!" The girl "next" to me shouts above the cheering to her friend. "I'm so excited! I can't believe they're going to be here, in our town, in our school. Eeek!" she squeals with girlish pleasure. Her friend replies back with similar shrill sounds. Candace. We have Calculus together, but no one would know it looking at the wide space between us. It's crowded. Unusually so, but not a single person thinks to move closer to me.
The second aircraft lands in a cornfield next to us. The screen's split. One half shows images of the ambassador
and a few of his cabinet members. The other zooms in on a spot that is probably a door, but it's hard to tell because there are no lines defining it. Someone's trying to talk over the loud speakers, but it's buzzing in the background. The real action is in front of us.
We have an advantage where we are. They call it Lover's Cove. It's corny, and almost no one says it without rolling their eyes or giggling, but it gets the point across. It's a place for lovers. We're on a hill overlooking the drive thru. Vendors are selling their ware like this is a sporting event. I can't fault them though. Even I, Kenna Parker, am toting bloody, almost rare beef patties slathered with cheese, and a deliciously fattening blend of mayonnaise, spicy sriracha sauce, and a touch of sour cream.
The yellow visor over my head is doing a poor job of blocking the heat. It doesn't help that a small cart is strapped onto the front of me like a rectangular backpack carrying sides of cinnamon sticks, fries, and nachos. The mass of people below surges forward, bellowing for more as the ambassador moves closer. Their combined cries overpower Alex's shouts from behind.
"Lemonade!" he yells. "Chucky burgers!" The black Goth clothes and low hanging metal chains are in stark contrast to my yellow, overly bright uniform. His blonde hair is dyed purple at the tips. Being the nephew of the owner lets you get away with things like not wearing the work uniform. I let him promote the product since I've been unable to move for the last twenty minutes. The crowd behind has grown too large to navigate through.
"I bet the students are in the second one!" Candace yells to her friend. The squeals and dreamy sighs following her prediction are enough confirmation. The split screen is now unified. The main cameras face the second aircraft, and two figures appear. The first is a girl. She observes the crowd with confidence. Her blonde brown hair and heart shaped face is as perfect as any can be. She's dressed in a stylish suit. Glowing eyes crinkle as she smiles, waving like a pageant queen. The second figure behind her garners an even louder response.
At first his face is hidden in the shadows, but his eyes glow before his features become visible. He's tall, towering over the girl like a giant. His black hair is darker than the coals we use in the restaurant to smoke meat. When he ducks through the door, his entire face is seen, and a wave of sighs and giggles greet him.
My eyebrows shoot up as I take a step back. He is without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen. I'm not surprised because the Saguinox are known for their beauty, but something foreign flutters through my body. It makes my skin tingle. This is such a strange feeling that I tense. Unable to take my eyes away, I keep looking. A square chin and sharp cheekbones make his appearance hard and intimidating. Even through the screen an air of arrogance emanates from his presence. The first word that comes to my head is intense. Hypnotizing. If I weren't carrying twenty pounds of food, I would've put a hand over my head and swooned the way that Candace dramatically did. Fortunately the smell of grease has a way of sinking through your skin and into your brain. Right now my brain is telling me that I'd be the fried one if I dare drop anything.
"Oomph." Someone bumps into me. Bright blue eyes look down into my hazel ones. "Sorry." He seems surprised. "I didn't see you there." I mumble something incoherent back. Ugh. I'd only been standing here in an extremely yellow uniform for the last half hour. I might've felt hurt if I wasn't so used to it.
He does a double take as he notices the uniform. "Are those wings coming out of your arms?" he asks. Instantly, he bites his lips as if he's said something embarrassing. Most people don't come out and say it the way he does as part of the whole Minnesota nice thing, but curiously stare at the odd choice of work uniform. A yellow shirt and flared golden skirt paired with knee high orange and black striped socks and black flats; all of which are mandatory during work hours. The owner Chuck thought it'd be "eye catching" to add small arm accessories in the shape of fluffy, yellow wings that, when paired with the rest of the getup, made you look suspiciously like a giant chick.
He's waiting politely for an answer, and I nod. "Well that's… interesting," he replies courteously. He turns, and disappears into the group. Within seconds, I'm by myself in my invisible bubble, in a crowd of hundreds. I glance back at the screen. Ambassador Damien is waiting to address the crowd. Even though the mayor is speaking, the cameras focus on the Ambassador's side profile. They capture his prominent nose and the golden luminosity sparkling beneath his thick lashes. Angel eyes, the crowd chants. It's a rhythm that reverberates in my head. Angel eyes, Angel eyes, Angel eyes…
Energy and adoration pour out of every person here with ferocity. Yet, the only thing I feel as I watch his Saguinox smile light up the screen is a sense of resignation.
A lone surfer, barely floating above an empty ocean.
That's what it feels like inside my soul.
Chapter 2
At first, the sun blinds me. It's unbearably bright, the sort of brightness that pierces your vision even when your eyes are closed. I shield them, and the wind whips my face, blowing my brown hair behind me. I hear her laughter and I turn. She's waiting, gesturing at me. She's wearing a floral dress, and shielding her eyes, too. Her face is blurry, but I know she's smiling; I can sense it from where I'm standing.
"Over here, Kenna," she yells from afar.
I'm ecstatic. "Mom!" My voice sounds small in the wind. "Mom!" I run to her, but I'm slow. No matter how fast I move she stays in the distance with her dress flowing around her. Wait, I try to say. I'm coming. Something changes, and she looks up. Out of nowhere a shadow suddenly appears above us. It's a ship, and its engines are drowning her words. It hovers above her, and she stares at it, transfixed.
"Mom," I yell again. "Stay there!" Unexpectedly I'm afraid. The ship isn't moving. It's right on top of us like smog, and I'm not sure what it's trying to smother. A door opens, and stretches to the ground like a ladder.
A figure appears.
At first he's blurry too, but then he takes a step forward and I recognize the handsome Saguinox alien from the drive in. He's not looking at my mom. He's gazing at me. I stare back. Somehow despite the distance, I see his face clearly. His glorious black hair, glowing eyes, and strong chin make me breathless. I can't read his expression, but I don't care. I just want to look at him.
"Kenna!" My mother's voice breaks my spell. She runs toward me, and for one second her face is abruptly in focus. There's fear there. I run forward, trying to reach her. She's shooing me away, but I won't turn back. I won't let her leave me again.
There is a sound above us, like something being unleashed, and I know it's important to run faster. I try to warn her. "Don't look up!" I shout, but she's motionless. She's lost control of her body. Her eyes are wild, trying to tell me something important. The air is chaos around her like a fan is blowing from underneath. Her mouth opens.
It's a trap.
I can't hear the words, but they're in my head.
"What?" I stop in mid motion.
Her face contorts, and the voice is no longer hers. "Run!" it tells me. "Run, Kenna!" I don't hesitate, and I bolt, reversing away from the ship, sensing the danger. Abruptly, I become aware of a thick blackness growing around me. The man from before is no longer by the door, and blackness is leaking from it like a poison. I stumble to the side to avoid it, but it's no use. The dark fog encircles me, floating closer and closer. When it touches me, a cold tingling envelopes my body. I freeze. I don’t know if the fog is freezing me, or if I'm too shocked to move. All thoughts disappear when the tingling starts at my ankles and travels to my knees. It moves further up, and I forget everything. My blood is icy, and I'm chilled from the inside out. Dimly, I'm aware of a voice. It's too weak to penetrate through, so I ignore it. There's something stronger calling to me now. The fog is icy cold- deliriously so. How can something so cold feel so good?
"Move, Kenna! Get away!" A feeble sound pierces through my delicious haze. I blink to clear away something nagging my mind. My body sways with the intention to lie down.
"Wake up
!" The voice is loud, booming in my mind. The birthmark on my finger burns, and a shaft of heat shoots up my arms, and down my body. The blackness shifts, looming above me, attempting to cave in like a collapsing roof. When I look up I see the dark abyss that waits for me. Its mouth opens to take me…
Wake up!
Cold hands shake me. I welcome the iciness because my body's on fire. Dad's face is unclear at first, but the smell of alcohol drifts into my nose as a pungent breath.
"Kenna, wake up. Whas wrong wi' you?" His voice is slurred, but his eyes are blinking, attempting to focus on me. I sit up, almost begging him to touch me again. I feel so hot. I palm my forehead, but it's impossible to know if I have a fever when my hands feel even hotter than the rest of my body.
"Hot," I choke out, fanning my face.
He nods. "Feels like a f-f-furnace in h-h-he…" Here, he attempts to say, as his words slide together like fluid. "Did y…turn…on..?" His question hangs in midair. I don't need him to say more because a decade of experience has taught me to decipher his drunken code talk.
"I didn't turn on the heat," I reply. It's September in Minnesota, but it isn't nearly cold enough to use the furnace. We can't afford to have heat early. The house isn't big, but I'm lonely at night. Maybe it's because I'm usually the only one home. The thought reminds me of a time when it was different, and I push it away as fast as it comes.
Dad rubs his eyes, making them redder. I check the digital alarm next to my bed. It's 4:30 in the morning. He's still dressed in a light jacket.
"Did you just come back?" I ask softly. He nods.
"Did you go with Jack?" I press.
"Don't need to," he answers vaguely.
"You shouldn't be driving when you've been drinking, Dad," I'm unable to hide the exasperation in my voice. It doesn't matter though because I'm talking to air. He's turned away; his mind already wandered off. He circles unsteadily around my bedroom until he comes to a framed photograph. It's the only thing of value I own. He stares like he expects it to move. In the picture, Mom's brown eyes peek mischievously over my head as she hugs me in her arms. The side of her smile is noticeable behind my thick head of hair. He studies the picture. I wonder what he sees. The silence feels immeasurable.