The Degenerate (Mythics Book One)

12

 The last name pinned it down perfectly--- the two siblings were constantly in a tug of war between what was right and what was easy. A long history rested on their backs, confirmed ancestors going back to at least 1890, who embraced the darkness inside them with such a vicious hunger that it passed on the curse through their lineage. Although most scientists speculated that origins ran back much farther than the stories told us. Theo and Hailee were fighting what was thought an impossible battle--- they were living proof that no one had ever succeeded before.

In the night glow of scattered stars peering through the branches of the forest overhead, he certainly looked as if he were a creature of the dark. He was lean with hidden strength, moving silently, almost otherworldly. Silky dark hair swept across his forehead and framed a pale facial structure that looked as if it had been carved by a Renaissance sculptor. Shadows lived under his eyes from the drugs he'd been given or simply from fatigue--- yet they painted his gaze as if they belonged there, thrived there. The dim atmosphere only seemed to make his oddly colored eyes glow with ethereal power. Not like sunlight, but the molten sparks that sprang from a knife as it was sharpened, brighter than flame.

"You're not very good at discrepancy," he said.

The blush ran from my cheeks all the way down my entire neck. I didn't know what had gotten into me, couldn't explain the strange surge of attraction that had risen within me. I knew he was a handsome guy, whether he was sick or he hadn't cleaned up in a few days because we'd been on the run. It came with the powers he'd been born with--- a trait one of his earliest ancestors had been known for, had used for evil. I'd always known these things, but now, here I was fantasizing, drifting in poetic thoughts. I frowned deeply, deciding right then and there that I would not be yet another gooey mess of a girl to drape herself all over Theo's arm. He never reacted to the attention of all those girls, but he certainly had to know the kind of effect he had.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked innocently.

I blinked away my thoughts. You. Definitely thinking about you. "About...about Hailee," I found myself saying. Which wasn't entirely a lie.

A cloud seemed to pass over his features. "I'm worried about her too," Theo admitted, dark brows furrowed. "I've tried calling her and I always get sent straight to voicemail."

"Do you think she's...?"

"Living life to the fullest?" he said wryly in an echo of a favorite sentiment of her's. "I don't know. I'd like to think that she would have reached out to us before she completely hit her downward spiral."

"Maybe she's in trouble."

Theo didn't even pause in his contemplation. He snorted. "No, she's not."

"You can't possibly know---"

"I know that she's like me," he interjected. A hint of arrogance rested underneath his words. Whether he was conscious of that or not, it still had me clenching my jaw. "It's impossible for either of us to die or remain seriously injured. We're stronger than the average person and faster, too. With her ruthlessness and cunning, she has a better chance at staying safe than I do."

I snatched my hand away from his and he frowned down at it. "Don't throw away my words so easily," I said. "I know those things. I want her safe too. But don't forget that without Rafe's help, we'd be captured ourselves."

He glanced at me. "That's true. You're right." Theo rubbed his neck. "You're always right." He feigned a sigh and an exaggerated roll of his eyes and watched me from the corner of his gaze, lips tilting up a little.

I wasn't sure what he was waiting for. What he was expecting from me. Did he want me to laugh and smile and brush everything off? That wasn't happening. Worry for Hailee twisted up my insides. She was like a sister to me--- a slightly unstable delinquent one, sure, but a sister nevertheless. I was itching to do something, anything productive.

Theo placed a careful hand on my arm, slowly like he was afraid I'd bite it off or something. I glanced at him stonily. The warmth of his hand pressed through the seemingly thin fabric of my hoodie. I was incredibly tuned into him, to his every movement. When he touched me, I found that my every sense was awakened, like I'd been sleeping without him.

And that stressed me out, made me wonder things that could change everything.

I trusted him, sure, but I definitely didn't trust myself. I turned away from him. "Rafe," I called out.

Theo's hand immediately fell from my arm.