Leather Jackets and Stolen Kisses
––––––––
After a moment, Owen releases me. I blink. Everything around us is encased in ice. I can’t even make out the shapes of the policemen in the other vehicles anymore.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. "You just killed them." I sputter the words. My legs shake beneath me. I'm not even sure they'll be able to hold me up for much longer. Tears make my throat thick, my vision blurry. "What about the people in the other cars? You killed them. They're people with lives and families an—and daughters." It makes me think of my own family. Am I ever going to see them again? Or will they just worry about me until they learn the truth?
Owen presses a strong hand to my back. "Only the non-humans. The good guys will be fine."
"Are you sure?" I'm sick, shaking. All those people.
"How I use my power depends on the intent. If I want the person knocked out, they're knocked out. If I want them dead..."
I swallow, trying to force away the terror his unfinished sentence drudges up.
"All except for him. He's almost impossible to kill."
"What about the tree cop...could we have saved—"
"The cop was never really a person, but a tree warrior, like the woman in the library. They can shift into...other things, people, when they need to. When they're commanded to."
I shudder. That sounds better, somehow, but still horrifying. "Are you a non-human, too?" Every part of me is shaking. "I know you're special. I just don't get it and I need to."
"I'm not fully human."
"How can someone not be entirely human?" I'm shaking so bad I'm surprised Owen isn't blurring before my eyes.
"It's a long story, but not for the side of the road when we're being followed." Owen reaches up and settles the jacket around my shoulders.
My heart gives a surprised thump. Cool it, Jem, he's just helping you. "Thanks." Warmth radiates through me, like the jacket's lined with an electric blanket.
"You're shaking so bad you'll slow us down even more. I figure I might as well let you wear it." He smirks at me as he turns toward the car. Scratch the doing something nice part. "Come on, Jemma." He offers me his arm and I take it. The ache in my ankle flares as I hobble to the car.
I tug Owen's jacket tighter around me. In the back of my mind, I think about what my parents always told me. Trust is earned. Hasn't he already earned it by now, though?
Besides, maybe he'll explain how someone can be not entirely human?
When we get back to the car, we're inside only a moment, when Owen tips my chin up. "Oh no, you got cut. He got you, good. Damn it. Did you get any other cuts?" His eyes seem serious, not mocking.
"One yesterday on the tree outside the coffee shop and a little one at the library from the tree woman." I hold up my hand.
Owen draws my hand toward him, his touch gentle. "Shit. You're bleeding."
"It's just a paper cut. What the tree cop did is worse." I point to my chin again. "None of them are deep though. I'm sure I can pick up some Band-Aids and I'll be good." I try and free my hand, but he's got it locked in some super-hero grip.
"He already cut you twice, and now a third time. That'll make the process go faster. By morning, you won't remember who you are or where you came from." He reaches up and brushes my bangs aside. Warmth spreads everywhere his fingers come in contact with my skin. "I'm so sorry, Jem. I should've realized you'd been poisoned."
"Poisoned?" I grip his arm. "Poison. What are you—"
"—Not here." He releases my hand and starts the car. We pull back onto the highway.
"Yeah, I get it. A safe place and all that." I glance back. "Are you sure those cops are going to be okay? Maybe we should call an ambulance? Stay with them?"
Something shifts in his expression. A pendulum swinging from anger to almost-understanding to something I can't define.
"They'll be okay. We can't go back, though." He runs a hand through his hair. "Let me get you back to my house first."
I nod. "But then you spill, okay?"
"Agreed." He keeps a hand on my arm.
We drive in silence for several more minutes before we cross onto a bridge. A massive river runs beneath it. Owen does the last thing I expect. He pulls the car over to the side of the road then stops.
"We're here. Sort of. You're not going to like how we get to my place, though." His furtive glance in my direction sends warning bells ringing in the back of my mind.
"What do you mean?" I ask, peering out at the black water.
"You'll see."
We climb out of the car. Owen jogs around to my side, then takes my hand. Purple half-moons stand out under his eyes. When did he start looking so tired? "Come on. They won't be able to follow us where we're going."
"Okay." My voice sounds small, my vision slipping in and out of focus for a moment. If I keep standing, I'll probably faint.
We reach the low railing when Owen stops. So far, he's practically dragged me all over town—I can't remember a time when we haven't been on the run from something. Now, he's gentle as he pulls me close. His hands send shivers over my skin. "Jemma." Things move in slow motion as he touches his thumb to my lips, running it along my bottom one. "Forget about him. Don't think about him. Think about me."
My head spins in a tug of war between Owen and the mystical boy from my childhood. The difference is that Owen is here, right in front of me, and he's no fairytale.
He leans in, just like in the parking garage. I still. Before I can process what's about to happen, he brushes his lips against mine. My thoughts implode. It doesn't matter that he's taller than I am. He's somehow the perfect kissing height. The air in my lungs evaporates as our mouths explore one another's. I wind my arms around him, holding on tight. I've been kissed before, but it's never been like this. An all-encompassing heat wraps around me, while at the same time ice shoots through my veins.
Before I realize what's coming or even guess at what he has planned, Owen pulls us over the railing of the bridge and we fall, plunging toward the water below while screams, that aren't my own, echo inside my head.