Vanish

Chapter 4

We haven’t been alone since Chaparral. On the journey here, the four of us trapped in the tight confines of the car, we hardly ever spoke, stopping only for gas, the restroom, and the chance to grab some food. But now it’s just the two of us.

I can only stare at him, dreading the torrent of admonitions I’m convinced he’ll heap upon me. For the obvious reasons: Exposing myself to our greatest enemy. Loving one of those enemies. And even worse, for still loving Will after seeing his blood. How can I explain to Cassian that Will’s not the bad guy? He’s just a victim of birth. The blood transfusions forced on him when he was sick. But then does it really matter that I explain anything? I’m not going to see him again.

In the silence I can hear the muffled voices of our parents. The tone is heated.

“What did you tell your father?” I slide off my bed, suddenly aware that I’m on my bed… that he’s so close, looming right above me. He doesn’t move, and I have to brush past him to get to the overstuffed sofa chair near the window.

“You mean did I tell them that you revealed yourself to humans?” His gaze cuts into me. “To hunters?”

I fight back my cringe. It sounds even more awful when he says it. I wish I could deny it.

“Yeah. That.” Settling into the chair near my window, I try to act casual, unbothered at this reminder, unbothered about everything. Especially him. Here in my bedroom, staring at me in that consuming, searing way that makes my lungs pull and contract. “Did you tell your father about that?”

That I did the one thing that could ruin us all. Not just the pride but our entire species.

His gaze sweeps me, missing nothing. Not the tangled mess of my hair trailing over my shoulders. Not my bare feet, peeking out beneath my folded legs. If he told them what happened, if he told them everything, how could they not punish me? Even a part of me believes I deserve it. I betrayed my kind.

Not that I would change anything I did even if I could. I know this much. It’s a strange realization. Feeling guilty does not mean I regret anything. Stronger than any guilt I feel is the pain in my heart at losing Will. I can’t imagine what that pain would be like if I hadn’t saved him. If he’d actually died out there in the desert.

Finally, Cassian answers me. “I couldn’t keep it from them, Jacinda. Not that. It affects all of us.”

I sink down a little in the cushions. Almost like I’m disappointed in him. I don’t know why. Despite our past friendship, I expect no loyalty from him. The pride is first and foremost with Cassian. Still, Tamra shaded the hunters. They won’t remember. Couldn’t he have kept it a secret? Would it have been such a bad thing to do?

Bleakness washes over me, slides through me like ice water. I had almost believed that he cared about me, that he would protect me. Like he promised. Instead, he threw me to the wolves.

“I had to tell them you revealed yourself to hunters, but I didn’t tell them everything. I didn’t tell them about him.”

I stare coolly; say the word he cannot bring himself to utter. “You mean Will?”

Something passes over his face. For a second his pupils shudder, shrink, flash to the barest slits. Then nothing. He’s the ever-stoic Cassian again. “Yeah. I didn’t tell them about the blood.”

That injects me with a shot of helpless shame. Will’s blood. The blood that’s the same color as mine. I nod.

“They would hunt him down if they knew. I guess I owe you for that.”

“You’re not in love with him,” he says so suddenly and with such force that I jerk. “You don’t even know him. He doesn’t know you. Not like I do.” His chest rises and falls with serrated breaths.

I say nothing in the awkward silence that follows. Tension swirls around us, as dense as Nidia’s mists pressing at my window. I stare down at my hands, noticing the tiny half moons my nails dug without my even knowing.

He releases a heavy sigh. “Look at me, Jacinda. Say something.”

I force my gaze back on him. Does he expect me to agree that I don’t love Will? Determined not to discuss my feelings for Will, I say, “Tamra shaded them. Why did you have to tell them anything? They look at me like I’m a criminal.” I wave an arm. “I’m practically under house arrest! They’re never going to forgive me.”

“I had to tell them. What if any of those hunters ever remember? Tamra doesn’t know how to use her powers yet. What if it doesn’t last? What if she didn’t shade them enough?”

I nod, the motion somehow painful, nearly as painful as the tightness in my chest. “I understand. It’s fine.”

“Clearly, it’s not fine. You’re upset.”

I press a hand to my chest. “And wouldn’t you be, Cassian? I’m going to be treated like a traitor for the rest of my life.”

He shakes his head slowly, a muscle feathering the flesh of his clenched jaw. “They’ll forget and forgive. Eventually.”

“You can’t know that.”

He’d said he would try to do everything he could to keep me safe, but even I know he’s not in total control here.

“The fact that Tamra’s here, that she’s a shader, has greatly appeased them. That you’re both back has.”

Even after he told them what I did? I stare at him doubtfully, afraid to drop my guard. “So I’m not in trouble?”

“I didn’t say that.” Something loosens in his face as he says this. A hint of a smile plays on his mouth. “You did reveal yourself to a human, Jacinda. And his family of hunters.”

And for that, I must pay. I nod, accepting it.

“You’ve got a lot to make up for,” he adds, fully serious again.

“And if I can’t?” I’m not sure I have it in me to prove myself to anyone anymore. Right now, the thought of never seeing Will again tears through me and makes me feel bruised and tired. Even though a part of me is relieved to be back in the pride, I’m not exactly in the best condition to properly suck up to anyone.

“Then things will be hard for you. Harder than they have to be. And your mother…” His voice fades, but the threat hangs.

My eyes narrow, skin tightening and prickling. “What about my mother?”

He glances over his shoulder as if he could see her wherever she stands in the house. “There’s no love for her. They blame her for taking you and Tamra. There’s talk of banishment—”

I inhale sharply. “That’s not fair. I’m the one—”

“She took you away. You didn’t leave on your own. Come on, Jacinda. Would any of this have happened without your mother hauling you off to some desert?”

I swallow thickly and look back out the window. I hate that I can’t argue this point with him. Hate that I see his logic, as cruel as it is.

“None of us is an island. Think about that. The actions of one affect all.”

I guess this is how I’m not like the rest of them. Why I’m the one who has endangered us all.

I lightly brush my mouth, speaking through my fingers. “Don’t you get sick of it? Don’t you ever want what you want? Don’t you think you deserve that once in a while? Why must you put the pride first above everything? Above the life of one? Do you ever draw a line? You can rationalize the sacrifice of one, but what about when it’s two? Three? When do you say enough?” I shake my head.

Cassian stares at me. “It’s the way we are. It’s how we’ve survived this long. The fact that you even question it when no one else does—” He cocks his head to the side. “But then maybe that’s what makes you so special. Why I’m even here talking to you. Why I care at all.”

I swallow against the tightness in my throat and hold his stare. “So you”—I struggle for the right word, a word that won’t make my face heat unbearably, and settle on—“you like me because I’m the kind of person that puts us all in jeopardy?”

That rare smile plays about his lips again. “You’re not dull, that’s for sure.”

“Cassian.”

My nerves snap tight as Severin himself steps inside the room beside Cassian. The two of them… in my room. Not something I ever envisioned. Cassian is one thing. Severin, another.

Mom hangs back behind Severin, her face hard with defiance. I guess whatever they discussed did not sit well with her.

“We’re finished here, Cassian.”

Severin’s gaze rests on me. I feel myself shrinking inwardly. But I don’t show it. I force myself to hold his stare, pretending he doesn’t make feel weak and shaky inside, that I don’t deserve censure.

Severin waves Cassian to the door. “Wait for me outside.”

Cassian sends me a lingering look and then departs.

Mom moves more fully into the room, her thin arms crossed over her chest. She’s lost weight. I wonder how I could have missed this. She always had curves before.

Severin looks at her coldly. “I would like to have a word with Jacinda.”

“Then you’ll have to do it in front of me.”

Severin’s lip curls up over his bone-white teeth. “You’ve already proven yourself a mother of dubious parenting, Zara. No need to behave as though you care for your daughter now.”

A stricken look flashes over my mother’s face before she manages to mask it, but the paleness is still there, making her eyes stand out like giant gleaming pools.

Since Dad was killed, Tamra and I are all she has. Every decision she makes is in our best interest… in what she thinks is our best interest. She might have made a few mistakes, but I never doubt her love for me.

A quick simmer froths to life at my core. “Don’t talk to my mother that way,” I warn.

Severin looks back at me, down at me, as though I were something soiled at his feet. “Have a care, Jacinda. You are pardoned for your offenses. A fact you can thank Cassian for. I’d just as soon see you punished—” He looks at Mom again. “And you banished.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” I snap, unable to strike the proper chord of penitence with Severin.

“Jacinda,” Mom says in a low voice, grasping my arm with cool fingers.

Severin’s features harden. “Heed me well. You’re on thin ice, Jacinda. I expect perfect behavior from you from now on….” His voice trails, the threat deliberate, implicit. I practically hear him say, Or else we’ll clip your wings.

I refuse to show that he affects me — that the threat works, sending a bolt of fear through me that makes my skin tighten and the heat shiver beneath my flesh, a writhing serpent seeking release.

“She won’t be any trouble,” Mom says in a voice I’ve never heard her use. She sounds almost beaten.

Severin’s mouth curls in a smug smile. “Maybe this time you’ll do a better job of keeping her in line.” With a crisp nod, he leaves, his tread a thudding retreat from our home.

A home that no longer feels like home. Just a house that is not ours anymore. Not if Severin can march inside and issue commands and threats as if it were his right to do so.

For the first time I ask myself whether this is what the pride has become — or whether it has always been this way?