Talon, Page 2

  But before I did anything else, I carefully dug my jewelry box out from where it was nestled within a pile of shirts and set it on my new dresser. Talon had provided us with everything—clothes, food, entertainment—but this small wooden box, fashioned like an old chest, was where I kept all my personal things. I unlocked the box with the hidden key and gently pushed back the lid, peeking in. The bright sunlight sparkled off a collection of small treasures: a couple of rings, a gold necklace, an assortment of old coins collected over the years. I picked up a piece of quartz I’d found in the desert one afternoon and held it up to the light, letting it glitter in my palm. Hey, I couldn’t help it. I liked shiny things; it was in my blood.

  Replacing the crystal, I closed the box and checked myself in the mirror above the dresser. A short, somewhat spiky-haired human girl gazed back. After what seemed like an eternity, I had become used to her face; it had been a long time since the human in the mirror seemed like a stranger.

  Whirling around, I strode to my door, flung it open and ran straight into Dante.

  “Oof,” he grunted, staggering backward as I tried not to trip and fall over him. He had changed into shorts and a loose sleeveless shirt, and his red hair was mussed as if already wind tossed. He gave me a rueful look as he caught himself on the railing, rubbing his chest. “Ow. Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go check out the beach, but it looks like you beat me to it.”

  I shot him a grin, the same as when we competed against each other in school, defiant and challenging. “Race you to the water.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Come on, sis. We’re not in training any—” But I had already rushed past him down the hall, and heard him scramble to catch up.

  Bursting out of the house, we flew down the steps, leaped the picket fence and broke into a flat-out run toward the ocean. I loved running, or anything that involved speed and exertion, feeling my muscles stretch and the wind in my face. It reminded me of flying, and though nothing could compare to the pure thrill of soaring through the clouds, beating my twin in a footrace, or anything really, ran a very close second.

  Unfortunately, Dante and I were pretty evenly matched, and we reached the water’s edge at the same time. Splashing into the turquoise sea at last, I gave a breathless whoop, just as a wave came out of nowhere and smashed into me, filling my mouth with salty water and knocking me off my feet.

  Wading over, Dante reached down to pull me up, but he was laughing so hard he could barely stand. Grabbing the offered wrist, I gave it a yank, and he toppled in after me as another wave came hissing in and covered us both.

  Sputtering, Dante rolled upright, shaking water from his hair and wringing out his shirt. I staggered to my feet as the water receded, sucking at my ankles as it swept back to the ocean. “You know,” my twin muttered, giving me an exasperated half smile, “you typically take off your regular clothes before you decide to do a face-plant into the ocean. That’s what normal people do, anyway.”

  I grinned at him cheekily. “What? Now you have an excuse to take off your shirt and show everyone the manly six-pack you’ve been working on all year.”

  “Ha-ha. Hey, look, a shark.”

  He pointed behind me. I turned, and he shoved me into another wave. With a shriek, I sprang up and tore after him as he took off down the beach, the foaming seawater lapping at my toes.

  Sometime later, we were both drenched, hot and covered in sand. We’d also traveled pretty far down the beach, passing sunbathers and families, though the strip was emptier than I’d thought it would be. Farther out, I could see surfers on their colorful boards, gliding through waves much larger than those close to shore. I wondered, again, what it was like to surf, if it was anything like flying. I made it a priority to find out.

  Closer to the edge of the beach, a volleyball net stood in the sand, and several teenagers bumped a ball back and forth over the net. There were six of them, four boys and two girls, all wearing shorts or bikinis. They were very tan, as if they’d spent a lifetime out in the sun, the girls slender and beautiful, the boys shirtless and muscular. A pair of sleek yellow boards lay nearby, showing that at least a couple of them were surfers. Curious, I stopped to watch from a safe distance away, but Dante nudged my shoulder and jerked his head in their direction.

  “Come on,” he murmured, and started ambling toward the group. Frowning, I followed.

  “Um. What are we doing?”

  He looked back at me and winked. “Fitting in.”

  “What, right now?” I glanced at the humans, then back at my brother. “I mean, you’re just going to walk up to a bunch of mortals and talk to them? What are you going to say?”

  “I figured I’d start with ‘hi.’”

  A little apprehensively, I trailed after him. As we approached the net, one of the boys, his dark hair bleached blond at the tips, leaped up and spiked the ball toward one of the girls on the other side. She instantly dove into the sand to save it, sending the white sphere flying in our direction.

  Dante caught it. The game paused a moment as all the players turned in our direction.

  My brother smiled. “Hey,” he greeted, tossing the ball to one of the girls. Who, I noticed, nearly missed the catch from gaping at him. “Need a couple extra players?”

  The group hesitated. I noted the way the girls were staring wide-eyed at Dante, and bit down a snort. By human standards, my twin was charming and extremely good-looking, and he knew it, too. It wasn’t by accident. When choosing the form that would be ours for the rest of our life, everyone in Talon was groomed to the highest standards of human beauty. There were no ugly “humans” in the organization, and there was a very good reason for that. Mortals responded to beauty, wealth, power, charisma. It made them easier to sway, easier to control, and Dante was a natural at getting what he wanted. This was sure to go to his already inflated head. But at least three of the guys were staring at me, too.

  One of the boys, lean and tan, with blond hair down to his shoulders, finally shrugged. “Sure, dude.” His voice was light, easygoing. “The more, the merrier. Come on in and pick a side.” He flashed me a grin, as if hoping I would choose his side of the net. I hesitated a moment, then obliged him. Fit in, make friends, adapt. That was what we were here to do, right?

  The other girl on my side, the one who’d dived for the ball, smiled at me as I joined her on the front row. “Hey,” she said, pushing long brown hair out of her face. “You’re new around here, aren’t you? Come for summer vacation?”

  I stared at her and, for a second, my mind went blank. What did I say? What did I do? This was the first human, not counting my teachers and guardians, who had ever spoken to me. I wasn’t like my brother, who was comfortable around people and knew how to respond regardless of the situation. I stared at the human, feeling trapped, wondering what would happen if I just turned around and sprinted back home.

  But the girl didn’t laugh or tease or give me a weird look. “Oh, right,” she said as Dante was tossed the ball and encouraged to serve. “You have no idea who I am, do you? I’m Lexi. That’s my brother, Calvin.” She nodded to the tall blond human who had smiled at me earlier. “And that’s Tyler, Kristin, Jake and Neil. We all live here,” Lexi continued as Dante walked to where a lone sandal sat several yards from the net, marking the back line. “Except for Kristin.” She nodded at the girl on the other side, blond and tan and model-gorgeous. “But her family owns a beach house and comes down every summer. The rest of us have been here forever.” She shot me a sideways look as Dante prepared to serve. “So, where did you two move from? Ever played volleyball before?”

  I was trying to keep up with the endless string of words, to find time to respond, when Dante tossed the ball, leaped gracefully into the air and hit it with a resounding whack that propelled it over the net and behind my head. It was expertly bumped to the blond boy, who hit the ball with his fingertips,
setting me up for a spike. I hadn’t ever played volleyball before, only studied it on TV. Thankfully, my kind were naturals at picking up physical activities, and I instinctively knew what to do. I bounced into the air and smacked the ball right at Bleach-tips. It shot toward him like a missile, and he dug for it frantically. The ball struck his hand at an angle, bounced off and rolled merrily toward the ocean. He cursed and jogged off after it, while our side cheered.

  “Nice shot!” Lexi grinned, watching Bleach-tips scoop up the wayward ball and come striding back. “Guess that answers my question, doesn’t it? What was your name again?”

  The tightness in my chest deflated, and I grinned back. “Ember,” I replied as Calvin smiled and nodded in approval. “And that’s my brother, Dante. We’re here for the whole summer.”

  * * *

  We played until the sun began to sink over the ocean, turning the sky a brilliant shade of orange and pink. At one point, Dante had to borrow someone’s phone to call Uncle Liam, as we’d both forgotten ours in the mad dash to the beach. When the light began to fade and the group finally split up, Lexi and Calvin invited Dante and I to the burger shack on the edge of the beach, and we accepted eagerly.

  As I sat beside Lexi, munching greasy fries and sipping a mango smoothie, something I’d never experienced before (nor had my stomach, though our digestive tracts could handle just about anything), I couldn’t help but be amazed. So these were normal teenagers, and this was what summer was supposed to be. Sand and sun and volleyball and junk food. No trainers. No evaluators with their cold hands and even colder eyes, watching our every move. The two surfboards I’d seen earlier lay propped on the table beside us; they actually belonged to Lexi and Calvin, and both had offered to teach me. Yep, I’d say my first day of being human was going swimmingly.

  And then, sitting at an outdoor table with the sun fading into the ocean and the sky dotted with stars, I felt a strange prickle on the back of my neck. The same feeling I’d get whenever I was being observed by an evaluator, all tingly and disconcerting. It always meant someone was watching me.

  I turned in my seat, scanning the parking lot, but I didn’t see anything unusual. A pair of girls walking back to their Camaro, drinks in hand. A family with two toddlers heading to the door. None of them were staring at me. But that tingle rippling across my neck hadn’t gone away.

  And then, a dragon pulled up on a motorcycle.

  Not in its real form, obviously. The art of Shifting—changing into human form—was so widespread it was common dragon knowledge now. All our kind knew how to do it. And those that couldn’t were either taught very quickly, or they were hunted down by the Order of St. George, the terrible cult of dragonslayers whose only purpose was our destruction. Shifting into human form was our best defense against genocidal dragon killers and a world of unsuspecting mortals; one did not just wander about in full reptile form unless one had a death wish.

  So, the dragon who cruised casually to the edge of the lot appeared human, and a fine specimen of humanity, too. He was slightly older than us, lean and tall, with a tousled mess of black hair and a leather jacket over his broad shoulders. He didn’t kill the engine, but sat there staring at me, a smirk stretching his full lips, and even in human form, there was an air of danger about him, in his eyes that were so light a brown they were almost gold. My blood heated at the sight of him, and a flush rose to my skin—instant reactions to another of our kind, and a stranger at that.

  Lexi noticed me staring at the parking lot, and her gaze followed mine. “Oh.” She sighed, sounding dreamy all of a sudden. “G double B is back.”

  “Who?” I whispered, wondering when Talon had planted him here. It was highly unusual to run into another dragon anywhere; Talon never placed their charges in the same town, for safety reasons. Too many dragons in one spot attracted St. George to the area. The only reason Dante and I had been placed here together was because we were true siblings, and that was almost unheard of in the organization.

  “Gorgeous Biker Boy,” Lexi replied as the strange dragon continued to stare at me, almost challenging. “No one knows who he is. He showed up a few weeks ago, and has been coming around all the popular hangouts. He never talks to anyone, just checks the place out, like he’s looking for somebody, and leaves.” Her knee bumped mine under the table, making me jump, and she grinned wickedly. “But it seems like he’s found what he was looking for.”

  “Huh? Who?” I tore my gaze from the strange dragon as he revved his bike and cruised out of the parking lot, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared. “What do you mean, he’s found what he was looking for?”

  Lexi just giggled, but I suddenly caught Dante’s eye over the table and burger wrappings, and my stomach dropped. My twin’s expression was cold, dangerous, as he glared at the spot where the other dragon had been moments before. His pupils contracted, shrinking down until they were black slits against the green, looking inhuman and very reptile.

  I kicked him under the table. He blinked, and his eyes went normal again. My stomach uncoiled. Jeez, Dante. What was that about?

  “We should go,” he announced, standing up. Lexi made a disappointed noise and pouted, but he didn’t relent. “It’s our first day here, and our aunt and uncle will worry if we’re not back soon. We’ll see you around, right?”

  “Dude, it’s cool.” Calvin waved him off. “We practically live on the beach. Ember, meet us here tomorrow afternoon, yeah? The waves are supposed to be sick.”

  I promised I would, then hurried after my brother.

  “Hey,” I whispered, lightly smacking his arm as I caught up. “What’s with you? You nearly went psychopathic lizard on me, right in front of two very normal humans. What’s the deal?”

  He shot me a guilty look. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just...” He raked a hand through his hair, the salt making it stand on end. “Do you know what that was, in the parking lot just now?”

  “You mean the other dragon? Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

  “Ember.” Dante stopped and met my gaze, grim and a little frightened. Which, in turn, scared me. Dante was always the calm, collected one. “That wasn’t anyone from Talon,” he said solemnly. “That was a rogue. I’d bet my life on it.”

  My insides shriveled.

  Rogue.

  The stranger was a rogue. A dragon who, for reasons beyond comprehension, had broken away from Talon, severing all ties and going on the run. This was the one unforgivable crime in the eyes of Talon; dragons who went rogue were immediately pronounced traitors and criminals, and offered one chance to turn themselves in. If they refused, the infamous Vipers were sent to bring them back, to whatever punishment awaited them for such betrayal.

  A rogue dragon, hanging around Crescent Beach. Staring right at me. Like he’d known I would be there.

  “What do we do now?” I asked. “How long do you think he’s been out of Talon?”

  “Probably not long,” Dante muttered, watching the last of the humans on the beach with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. “I can’t imagine he’ll be around much longer. Ember, don’t tell Liam and Sarah about this when we get home, okay?”

  Puzzled, I frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Because they’ll inform Talon,” Dante answered, making my stomach clench. “Because the organization might call us back if they suspect a rogue is in the area.” He must’ve seen my look of horror, because he placed a hand on my arm and smiled. “It’s all right. Let me handle this. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I believed him. Dante always accomplished what he said he would. I should’ve been relieved.

  But I remembered the strange dragon’s eyes, the look on his face as he’d stared at me, the way my blood had warmed at the sight of him. I remembered the heat of his gaze, the instant awakening of something fierce and primal inside me when our eyes met.

  The r
ogue dragon was trouble. Plain and simple.

  And I was intrigued.

  * * *

  The next day started off perfectly. I slept in for maybe the first time in my life, waking up close to noon to find Dante had already gone down to the beach. I found him with several of our new friends from yesterday, and we spent the afternoon talking, swimming, playing volleyball and eating more junk food from the Smoothie Hut. It was easier this time, to mingle, fit in and be part of this group, though some of their mannerisms were strange. Touching, for example. Lexi was very touchy-feely, and the first time she grabbed my arm, I had to force myself not to pull back, hissing. She and Kristin giggled a lot and talked at length about subjects completely foreign to me. Clothes and shoes and shopping and boys. Especially boys. It was baffling, this obsession with other humans. Clothes I could understand; shoes seemed to be the humans’ equivalent of shiny things and treasure. Maybe they hoarded boots like we did gemstones. That was something I could comprehend. But every time Lexi snatched my arm and pointed to some random human on the beach, I would nod and agree that he was “gorgeous,” as she put it, but I couldn’t see the attraction.

  By the end of the day, however, the ebb and flow of human conversation was starting to sink in, and I felt I was starting to “get it.” I confirmed with Lexi that she was willing to teach me to surf, and she promised to take me to a “secret spot” farther down the beach, where it was never crowded and the waves were constant. As evening approached and the sun dipped lower over the ocean, we went back out on the sand and Calvin dug a shallow pit, filled it with driftwood and started a fire. Entranced, I buried my feet in the cooling sand and stared into the flames. Beside me, Lexi chatted away as a boy who had brought a guitar picked at the strings with deft fingers. The fire snapped against the wood, beautiful and glorious, seeping into my skin and warming my face. Oh, yeah. Life was good. At the moment, it was perfect.