The Marked Son (Keepers of Life) by Shea Berkley Page B

against a tight throat. “What’re we doing here?”
    He stills. There’s tension in his features I’ve never seen before. An unflinching disquiet shines in his eyes. “Waiting for trouble.”
    His stare lingers, and the warning is clear. Get on board or get out.
    I nod, and he turns away to finish his preparations. Restlessness invades the foxhole, and it makes the hairs on my arms rise.
    Oh yeah. He’s definitely flashing.

Like a Knife Through Butter

    Hours later, the moon was high and Kera lay in the infirmary wide awake, refreshed by Faldon’s magic. She only felt a slight twinge when she touched the sting sights. Never one to stay put, even with her father barking orders to do just that, she found herself more restless than ever.
    And she knew exactly what she needed to do.
    Throwing off the covers, she strapped the dagger around her waist and treaded softly to the door. The back alley abutted a wall, though it was no normal wall. The builder had tried to disguise what it hid. Kera saw the barrier clearly now. It was as if, once she’d crossed it, she’d become sensitive to its presence. She pulled her fingers along the bricks and watched the energy sparkle and snap.
    She pushed at the wall. It held firm. She pressed her shoulder against it, then her back. Nothing. It felt impenetrable. How had she pushed through before?
    She backed away, staring at the wall, and put her hands on her hips. Her fingers brushed the dagger.
    The dagger. The wall.
    What had Faldon said? That incordium could cut through anything?
    “Lani. You didn’t.”
    She pulled the dagger free and placed the tip against the bricks. A tiny push. A sudden pop and sizzle. The incordium blade slid neatly into the barrier and a new opening appeared. She quickly sheathed the dagger and gripped the cold edges of the wall. The wet mist clutched her fingertips, already urging her forward. With a pull, the opening grew, and the thick mist burst free like a wild thing, wrapping her in a tight embrace. The air grew thin. Her head spun, and she gave in to the pull.
    This time, even Faldon wouldn’t approve of her boldness. This time, she’d have to make sure he didn’t find out what she planned until the deed was done.

Fireflies

    I want to leave, but I can’t. If I do, Grandpa might do something stupid. Like kill someone. It’s not like I really care—my feelings are compressed into a hard, tight knot nothing can break apart. I just don’t want any more trouble. I’m tired of that demon following me.
    The tarp keeps us dry in the foxhole. He lounges at one end and I sit at the other, cracking my knuckles. After fifteen minutes of watching him scan the area, I consider grabbing his cell phone and calling Grandma, but I don’t. Mom’s beaten her up enough. Grandma deserves a break.
    The more I think about it, the more I believe Grandpa’s going through a rough patch. I can handle rough patches. Mom’s given me loads of experience in that area. All I need to do is keep him calm. “So, what’s the plan?”
    “We wait.” He pulls out a bundle of zip ties. “Which do you want to do? Shoot or zip?”
    Instinct tells me to zip, but I’m afraid Grandpa will shoot first, restrain later. “Shoot,” I blurt out, then groan inwardly. How did I get myself into this?
    “Okay.” He sounds proud, as if my wanting to shoot another human being is some rite of passage into manhood. Maybe for the Vietnam era guys it was, but not for me.
    He picks up the bean bag gun and launches into another round of safety lectures. He doesn’t sound crazy. So why do I have that weird feeling something is about to happen? I try and concentrate on what he’s saying.
    “… so you see, it’s really easy.”
    “Yeah, well…um,” I sputter. “What if I can’t shoot anyone? What if I freeze up?” I’ve seen enough war movies to know it happens.
    Grandpa purses his lips and after a moment, snaps his fingers and points at me. “Have you ever played with those