That word comes up a lot with Mom. Safety. It’s everything. It’s led me to this. Leaving the pride, killing my draki, avoiding the boy who saved my life, the boy who awakened my draki in the midst of this scorched sea—the boy I want very much to know.
Can’t she understand? What good is safety if you’re dead inside?
Mrs. Hennessey stares at us through her blinds. She must have been waiting for us to come home. We enter quietly through the back gate, careful not to let it clang after us.
And yet, as quiet as we are, she is ready, peering at us from the security of her house.
She’s done that a lot since we moved in. As if she’s not sure she didn’t rent her pool house to a family of convicts.
Apparently I’m not the only one who notices. “She’s watching us,” Tamra hisses.
“Again.”
“Don’t stare,” Mom commands. “And keep your voice down.”
Tamra obeys, whispering, “Isn’t it kind of creepy living in some old lady’s backyard?”
“It’s a lovely neighborhood.”
“And all we could afford,” I remind Tamra.
We skirt the pool, walking one after the other. Mom leads, balancing a small bag of groceries on her hip. I’m last. I look down into the cerulean blue pool to see a shuddering reflection of myself. The chemical odor stings my nostrils.
Still, the water looks refreshing in this dry, skin-shriveling heat that makes my thirsting pores contract. We don’t even have a tub. Just a shower stall. Maybe I can sneak a swim later. I’ve never been good at following rules.
Tamra grumbles, “I just hope she doesn’t go through our stuff while we’re gone.”
What stuff? It’s not like we smuggled out much in our haste. Clothes and a few personal belongings. I doubt she could find our gems. I haven’t even been able to find them. And I looked when Mom left us to job hunt, hungry for the sight of them. Just a touch. A revitalizing brush against my skin.
Mom unlocks the door. Tamra follows her inside. I pause and take another look over my shoulder—find Mrs. Hennessey still watching. When she sees me looking, the blinds snap shut. Turning, I walk inside the moldy-smelling pool house, wondering what time she goes to bed.
That water is calling my name. And for now, it’s closer than the sky.
As Tamra and I wash dishes, Mom changes for work. The smell of rich butter and cheese lingers in the tiny kitchen. Mom’s five-cheese macaroni with her unique blend of herbs is my favorite. Not that she’s not a fantastic cook in general. She’s a verda draki—was, I mean.
Verda draki know everything there is to know about herbs, specifically how to optimize them into food and medicines. She can bring the blandest dish to life. In the same vein, she can also concoct a poultice that gets rid of a pimple overnight or draws poison from a wound.
Tonight’s dinner was for me.
She’s trying to be good to me—feels sorry for me, I guess. It’s me Mom worries about.
Me she wants to be happy here. With Tamra, it’s a given—she wanted to leave the pride years ago.
Dinner tasted good, delicious. Like home. My stomach is pleasantly full from too much food.
Mom emerges from her room, dressed in black slacks and a purple sequined halter top.
Her bare shoulders gleam like pale marble. Maybe she’ll get a tan here. I frown. Maybe we all will.
“You sure you girls will be all right?” She looks at me as she asks this.
“We’ll be fine,” Tamra replies cheerfully. “Now go out there and earn those tips.”
Mom’s smile is shaky. “I’ll try, but I do hate leaving you girls alone.”
I know it’s terrible and selfish of me, but I’m glad she got hired on for nights. It’s too hard to be around her right now. And this way I only have to worry about Tamra if I sneak out. When I sneak out. Once I decide on the safest place for me to manifest. It can’t be far. I’ll have to walk to get there after all.
Laughter bubbles like acid inside my chest. Because no place is safe to manifest here. It’s a desert. Without mists and mountains for cover, I’d never be fully cloaked.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Mom instructs. “And do your homework.”
It’s her first night working at the local casino. The night shift pays best. She’ll be gone from ten at night until five in the morning. This way, she can see us off to school, get a nap and then head back for a few hours during the day, clocking out in time to pick us up from school and spend the early evening with us. Ideal as long as she can keep functioning on five hours of daytime sleep.
“Remember, Mrs. Hennessey is just next door.”
I snort. “Like we’re going to bother her.”
“Just be careful.” Her gaze swings meaningfully between me and Tamra, and I wonder what’s really worrying her. That the pride might show up to drag us back? Or that I’ll take off and return to them all on my own?
“You know,” Tamra points out. “You could just sell a few rubies, an emerald or diamond.” She shrugs. “Then you wouldn’t have to leave us alone. You wouldn’t have to work so much.” My sister glances around the small, wood-paneled living room. “We could rent a nice condo.”
Mom picks up her purse. “You know we can’t do that.”
Because the pride would know instantly if any of the jewels that had been in our family for generations started circulating. They would be looking for that very thing. That’s what they would expect us to do to survive.
If not for that, I know Mom would sell off every gem we possessed. It’s not as though she places any sentimental value on them. The stones are our draki family legacy, after alland she wants to kill all ties to that.
Jewel salvaging’s part of our ancestry. This, in part, is why we are hunted. Money.
Greed. Besides the greed for our blood, skin, and bones—which are said to hold healing properties for humans—we’re tracked down for our troves.
But for us, it’s not about money. It’s about life.
Arable earth sustains us, but gems offer something more. They’re the icing on the cake, the earth’s purest energy. They fortify us. As with our dragon forefathers, we can detect gemstones beneath the ground. We’re attuned to their energy. Without proximity to either arable earth or gems, it’s akin to starving.
Tamra props her hands on her hips. “C’mon. Just sell one. I need some new clothes.”
Mom shakes her head. “I get paid on Friday. We’ll see what we can spare then.”
“Would it be such a big deal to sell one little stone?” I say lightly, pretending I’m not fully aware of the potential danger. Not to mention the pain of losing one of my family’s gems. Selling one would be like selling a piece of me. But maybe worth it. Because nothing will be left of me if I have to stay here. This way the pride would find us and take us back.
Mom’s gaze swings to me, all glittery and hard. She sees through my words, knows my game. “That would be a bad idea, Jacinda.”
It’s a warning. Her threatening tone rings final.
“Fine,” I reply, setting the last plate into the dish rack and marching through the living area to the room I share with Tamra.