Ruby’s Fire

Blane presses me to his side, and I feel his heart throbbing against my arm. Relaxing into his shoulder, I nestle there. What would he think if he knew what I was now? I’m afraid to tell him, but do I really need to?

 

He nuzzles my forehead, planting soft kisses on it, and moving his lips down to kiss the tip of my nose, and then each wind-burned cheek, and finally grazing his lips softly over mine, like a velvety leaf. With his tongue, he playfully guides my mouth open. We kiss until flames lick at my entire body.

 

We’re flying in the heavens now, the city so many radiant specks below, the ocean a filmy, celestial blanket.

 

But the humming gets louder and more insistent. Abruptly its cry turns pleading. Help me, help me, help me! In my mind’s eye, I see a tiny Red, fluttering, trying in vain to stay aloft in the powerful bluster, but falling, falling, falling. Falling away.

 

Looking down, I search for a real set of red wings. I swear I see them, spiraling lower, and my breath catches in a frightened gasp. When I jerk my head upward, and look over at Blane to see if he’s seen the Red too, the corner of my vision catches on something else outside the other window. It’s enormous and curved, pearly and anonymous, and I lean toward it. A monstrous orb is floating right next to us, the size of an entire small planet. It’s way, way too close, as if we’re about to crash.

 

“Blane!” I scream.

 

He whirls around to see where I’m looking, and squints out the window. “What, Ruby?”

 

“It was there. Now it’s gone, behind the mist. I don’t know … I swear that I saw something.”

 

“What, Ruby? Describe it to me.” Now Blane is fully upright, his eyes wild, scanning the darkening sky in all directions.

 

“It, it’s gone.” How could a huge glowing orb just disappear? Or how could I have seen an actual Red, all the way up here, out on the coast, struggling against these violent air currents? How could any of this be happening? “I’m going crazy.”

 

“Ruby, talk to me.” Blane grasps me by the shoulders.

 

“I’m scared,” is all I can utter.

 

“Scared of what?”

 

“Scared something terrible is happening.” The humming is back, inside my head. Not humming exactly, more a shrieking. It eats at my heart.

 

“What?” He’s holding his own terror in, but he shudders under his glaze of control.

 

I shake my head, as much to get the bad omen out as to shake sense in. “I don’t know, Blane, I don’t know. Just hold me. Please.”

 

What is this strange screaming static? Is it some kind of radio interference from that orb I just saw? Or is Thorn in some kind of trouble back at home? Is it the stromanet sending a message? No, the noise is nonsensical now. There’s no language attached to it like there was with the Reds, with the Fireseed. Could it just be my amplified fear at being a mile above the ocean?

 

Blane wraps me in his arms and lets me sink into him. “It’s okay now,” he whispers. “We’re okay.” I breathe his scent of spice and sweat and a fledgling kindness—clean and flowing in, stronger and stronger. The static in my head lessens and I see no more glimpses of that ghastly orb—as if was a stark, frozen nightmare that evaporated in our warmth. I want to forget it, let go of my past troubles. We stay entwined for the rest of the ride. From abject terror to a sense we are solid; I’ve never felt so loved or safe.

 

Back at the hotel, Radius slips into my room to be with Bea, and I slip into the guys’ room to be with Blane. In the wide bed with silky sheets there are more sweet, passionate kisses, and tender hugs, but we’ll heat up the bed another night. Tonight, Blane knows what I really need is to be held and protected, and I know what he really needs is to feel love, respect and that he has an unshakable ally.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 25

 

 

 

“Blane Tralfant, representing The Greening,” calls the announcer.

 

Stepping onto the stage, Blane sets up his holo demonstration in front of Axiom’s large white demo screen. The bars and graphs of Blane’s design shimmer in three-dimensional complexity. He’s wearing his best suit, a beige solar cell one with a melon color shirt, which sets off his freckles in the most charming way. I’m nervous for him as I glance around at the excited crowd of kids, judges and city officials in this luxe auditorium that overlooks the ocean.

 

Blane clears his throat. “I’ve been researching the genetic formation and structure of Fireseed,” he starts. “You see, my mother was a geneticist, and after my family perished in the great East Coast Sector flood, well, I …” He glances over at me, and I nod to egg him on. “I feel the desire to carry on my mother’s work.” So he was telling the truth about her! It wasn’t just his mad boast. I lean forward, eager to catch every word.