Brianna stared up at the canopy of her bed, vague memories of the foster families they’d lived with through the months they’d been on the run teasing at the back of her mind. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a cookout?” She flexed her right foot where it crossed over the ankle of her left. “You know, just invite the neighbors over and sit by the pool. Maybe watch some fireworks after dark.”
Logan’s lips pursed. “Hot dogs are overrated.”
She shook her head, shifting so that her denim-covered leg touched his. “You’re cooking them wrong.”
He laughed, turning to see her. “How’s that?”
“You have to smother them in chili and that radioactive-yellow cheese sauce, and then you cover the whole thing with a bag of corn chips.”
“That’s not a cookout,” he said. “That’s carnival food.”
She looked at him. “To just be normal. To not have to fight?”
He rolled toward her, placed a hand on her hip. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She sighed, twisting her palm away from her stomach, and drew the power through it again. She held up a small metal pin with her other hand, showing Logan how he’d be able to use the gifts she would give him. “Electromagnetic,” she said, releasing the pin to watch it slip into the space above her palm and then pulling it free again to hold to the side. “Arc.” She released the electricity, a thin line of spark shooting to the pin in her hand, and then dropped it, keeping the power in check. “And fire.” She pushed again, adding the energy required to ignite a flame.
“Enough,” he said, wrapping his hand around hers. “I trust you, Brianna.”
She turned to her side, facing him. “If the old texts are right, you’ll probably have some skill with mass as well. Gravity.”
He ran a thumb down her cheek to smooth out her distress. “Whatever you need from me, Brianna. Whatever it takes.”
“It will use a lot of energy. And your kind, the Seven Lines, doesn’t have as much in reserve. The shadows will be stronger than you, Logan. As a general rule, any of them you come in contact with will be able to overpower you.”
“I understand. Don’t engage unless we’re forced to, use some sense.”
“Yes,” she said. “And focus on your specialty, what you were made for.” Her hands slid up his, resting on the inside of his forearms. “You’ll be able to feel it, to know your limitations.” He listened patiently, taking in every word she said. “It won’t be new to them, Logan. They’ll have used it their whole lives, trained for this. Most of the time, you won’t even be able to see it coming.”
“Most of the time?” he asked.
She smirked. “They’re going to be a bit like Morgan, I’m afraid. They’re very proud of their power.” Her eyes went unfocused as she studied the visions, a set of futures where the lesser shadows sought her out. She couldn’t see them, exactly, but she could glimpse the events, knew the way things would unfold. She was hunting in the darkness, searching for bits of light in fog. These shadows weren’t as quick and ruthless, not like the others, but she knew that was coming, too. “Not all of them,” she said. “The men behind this, they aren’t in it for the glory.” She shivered, finding the last of the visions, the scenes too hard to relive. “They only want the outcome.”
Brianna fell silent then, watched him while she hesitated, and Logan drew her tight against him. “It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to hers, a soft kiss, and said, “It will be fine.” He drew back to look at her. “We’re just like any other couple, lying in bed on a Saturday afternoon, making fire with our hands.”
“It’s Tuesday,” she deadpanned, some small part of her thrilling at the word couple as his mouth came up in a lopsided grin.
“Oh,” he answered. “Well, that is weird.”