“Other than the pressure to remember, you mean?”
“It’s not the pressure. It’s something … else. But I’ve decided to ignore it.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sure. The longer I stay near you the more intense the response. It’s not talking with you that’s hard; it’s just being in close proximity. We should try talking on the phone and see if that makes a difference. I’ll just work on building up immunity.”
“I see. So your goal is to build up a tolerance for me.” I sighed. “Okay.”
“I’ll keep trying, Kelsey.”
“Don’t strain yourself too much, because it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve decided to just be friends with you.”
He leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “But aren’t you still, you know, in love with me?”
I leaned forward too. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
Ren folded his arms across his chest. “Why not?”
“Because Lois Lane never suffocated Superman.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ll have to watch the movie. The point is, I’m done holding you back, so if you want to date Nilima, go for it.”
“Wait a minute! You’re just going to cut me off?”
“Is that a problem?”
“I didn’t say it was a problem. It’s just that I’ve been reading your journal, and for a girl who’s supposed to be crazy about me, you’re sure giving up pretty quickly.”
“I’m not giving up anything. There’s nothing between us now to give up.”
He stared at me as I speared another piece of fruit.
Rubbing his jaw, he said, “So you want to be friends.”
“Yep. No pressure, no tears, no constant reminders of things you forgot, no anything. We’ll just start over. A clean slate. We’ll learn how to be friends and get along despite your inner trigger to run. What do you say?” I wiped my hand on a napkin and held it out. “Want to shake on it?”
Ren considered, smiled, and took my hand. I pumped his up and down once.
“What are we agreeing on?” Kishan asked as he walked into what was the longest conversation Ren and I had had since before he was captured.
“Kelsey just agreed to give me a demonstration of her lightning ability,” Ren smoothly lied. “Being able to shoot fire from your hand is something I’ve got to see.”
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He smiled and winked, then stood and took both of our plates to the kitchen sink. Kishan’s golden eyes cast a doubtful glance at me, but he sat down and snatched the remaining half of my cheese Danish. I smacked his hand playfully before picking up a towel to help Ren. When we were finished, he swiped the towel from me, snapping it lightly against my thigh. I laughed, enjoying our newfound repartee, and turned to find Kishan frowning at us.
Ren put his arm lightly around my shoulder and dipped his head closer to my ear, “‘’Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.’ Better keep an eye out for him, Kelsey.”
I laughed, glad that he remembered his Shakespeare, if not me. “Don’t worry about Kishan, Caesar. His growl is worse than his bite.”
“Has he bitten you lately?”
“Not recently.”
“Hmm, I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Ren said as he left the room.
“What was all that about?” Kishan growled, giving me a brief glimpse of the fierce black tiger hiding behind his eyes.
“He’s celebrating his emancipation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve told him that I’d like to be friends.”
Kishan paused, “Is that what you want?”
“What I want is irrelevant. Being my friend is something he can do. Being my boyfriend is not in the stars right now.”
Kishan kept thankfully silent. I could tell he wanted to offer himself as a replacement, either seriously or in jest, but he bit his tongue. Because he did, I kissed his cheek on my way out.
With the ice finally broken between Ren and me, we all could finally move on and soon settled into a routine. I checked in with my foster parents, Mike and Sarah, every week, telling them virtually nothing but that I was fine and busy assisting Mr. Kadam. I assured them that I’d finished my freshman year at Western Oregon University online and that I’d be spending summer break doing an internship in India.
I practiced martial arts with Kishan in the mornings, had late breakfasts with Ren, and helped Mr. Kadam research the third part of Durga’s prophecy in the afternoons. In the evenings, Mr. Kadam and I cooked dinner together—except when he wanted to make curry. Those nights I made my own dinner, using the Golden Fruit.
After dinner we played games, watched movies, and sometimes read in the peacock room. Kishan stayed in the library only if I was telling a story, and then he’d curl up at my feet as the black tiger. We began reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream together. Mr. Kadam bought several copies of the play so we could take different parts to read. I liked being able to share those times with Ren.
Mr. Kadam had been right, as usual. Ren did seem happy. Everyone responded to his improved mood, including Kishan, who had somehow changed from a brooding, resentful younger brother into a confident man. Kishan kept his distance, but his golden come-hither eyes made my face burn.
Sometimes in the evenings, I’d find Ren in the music room playing his guitar. He’d strum through songs and laugh when I requested “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music. One such night, Ren played the song he’d written for me. I watched him carefully, hoping a memory might be coming back. He was concentrating deeply as he picked softly through the notes. He kept getting stuck and started over again several times.
When he caught my gaze, he dropped his hands and grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to remember this one. Do you have a request this evening?”
“No,” I said curtly and stood.
Ren took my hand but dropped it quickly. “What is it? You’re sad. More than usual.”
“That song … it’s—”
“The song? Have you heard it before?”
“No,” I lied and smiled sadly, “It’s … lovely.” I squeezed his hand and stumbled away before he could ask any more questions. I wiped a tear from my cheek as I climbed the stairs. I could hear him working on the song again, trying to figure out where the notes belonged.
Another evening, I was relaxing on the veranda, smelling the night jasmine, and looking up at the stars when I overheard Kishan and Ren talking.
“You’ve changed,” Ren pointed out to his brother. “You’re not the same man you were six months ago.”
“I can still whip your white hide if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“No, it’s not that. You’re still a powerful fighter. But now, you’re more relaxed, more certain, more … composed.” He laughed. “And much harder to get riled up.”
Kishan replied softly, “She’s changed me. I’ve been working hard to become the kind of man she needs, the kind of man she already believes me to be.”
Ren didn’t respond, and the two entered the house. I sat quietly, thinking deeply about Kishan’s words. Who knew life and love would be so complicated?
2
Getting Reacquainted
A few days later, Mr. Kadam called us together in the dining room. As we all took seats around the table, I secretly hoped this wasn’t bad news and that Lokesh hadn’t found us again.
“I’d like to propose an idea,” Mr. Kadam began. “I’ve figured out a way to make sure we can find one another if, perchance, someone is abducted again. It won’t be comfortable, but I feel a little discomfort is a small price to pay to make sure no one is lost.”
He opened a box and took out a bubble-wrapped package. Inside was a black velvet bundle that unrolled to reveal five thick syringes with needles the size of a giant porcupine quill.
Nervously, I asked, “Umm, Mr. Kadam? What exactly do you mean by
a little discomfort?”
He opened the first syringe and took out a bottle of saline solution and some alcohol wipes. “Have you heard of RFID tags?”
“No,” I responded with alarm as I watched him gently take Kishan’s left hand, swipe the area between his thumb and forefinger with an alcohol wipe, and then dab a yellow topical ointment in the same place.
“It stands for Radio Frequency Identification tags. They’re used in animals.”
“You mean to track whales and sharks? Things like that?”
“Not exactly. Those are larger and drop off after they lose power.”
Ren leaned forward and picked up a chip about the size of a grain of rice. “It looks similar to what Lokesh implanted in me.”
He set the chip down and rubbed his hands together slowly, looking off into the distance.
“Did it hurt? Could you feel it inside your skin?” I asked tentatively, trying to bring him back from whatever dark place he had gone.
Ren let out a breath and gave me a small smile. “The pain was minimal at the time, but yes, I could feel it under my skin.”
“This tag is slightly different.” Mr. Kadam hesitated and added, “We don’t have to use them, but I think they will be a protection for all of us.”
Ren nodded in agreement, and Mr. Kadam continued, “These are somewhat similar to RFID tags which are used in pets. They emit a frequency, usually a ten-digit number, which can be scanned through the skin.
“The chips are encased in biocompatible glass to prevent them from coming in contact with moisture. RFID tags for humans are not commonplace yet but are beginning to be approved for medical purposes. They identify medical history, allergies, and the types of medication a person is currently taking.”
He drew some saline solution into the syringe and replaced the smaller needle with the giant one. Then he placed a tiny chip into the needle’s groove. He pinched the skin between Kishan’s thumb and finger and carefully inserted the needle. I looked away.
Unperturbed, Mr. Kadam continued, “Now for the large marine animals you were speaking of, researchers use satellite tags that transmit anything from the current location in longitude and latitude, to the depth of the animal, the duration of the dive, and the swimming speed. That type of tag is external and is attached to a battery that eventually is used up in the transmission of information. Most of them last only a short time but some of the more expensive ones can last for a few months.”
He pressed a cotton ball to Kishan’s hand, removed the needle, and covered it with a Band-Aid. “Ren?”
Kishan and Ren switched places, and Mr. Kadam began the process over with Ren.
“There are a few internal tags put into marine animals that can record the heart rate, the temperature of the water, the body temperature, and the depth of the animal. Many of them transmit information to satellites when the animal surfaces.”
He selected a new syringe, drew a bit of saline solution, replaced it with the larger one, and placed another chip into the needle’s groove. When he pinched the skin and moved closer, I grimaced. Ren looked up and made eye contact with me. He smiled and said, “Easy as peach pie.”
Peach pie. The color drained from my face.
He tried to reassure me, “No, really. It’s not that bad.”
I smiled weakly. “I’m not sure your tolerance for pain and mine are the same, but I’ll survive. You were saying, Mr. Kadam?”
“Yes. So the problem with the RFID chips and the satellite tags is power. What we have here is technically not on the market and will likely never be, due to the general public’s fear of identity theft and having government agencies monitor them.
“Almost every technological development can be used for either the benefit or detriment of mankind. I understand the fear associated with such a device but there are many valid reasons for exploring technologies such as this one. Luckily, I have military contacts, and they often walk where others fear to tread. Our tags can do all of those things and much, much more, transmitting data constantly even well above and below sea level.”
He finished with Ren and looked at me. Hesitantly, I pushed back my chair and switched places with Ren. When I sat down, Mr. Kadam patted my hand briefly. I found myself staring fixedly at the needle as he switched needles again. He chose the hand not marked by Phet’s henna tattooing and repeated the wipe-ointment process.
“I’m giving you a topical medicine that will numb the area slightly, but the injection will still hurt.”
“Okay.”
He placed a chip into the tip of the large needle. When he pinched my skin, I shut my eyes and drew in a tight breath through clenched teeth as he found the right spot.
Kishan’s warm hand took mine, and he said tenderly, “Squeeze as hard as you need to, Kells.”
Mr. Kadam slowly inserted the needle. It hurt. It felt like he was shoving one of my grandma’s giant knitting needles through my hand. I squeezed Kishan’s hand and started breathing fast. Seconds ticked by that felt like minutes. I heard Mr. Kadam say he had to go a little deeper.
I couldn’t bite back the whimper of pain and wiggled in my chair as he twisted the needle and pushed it farther. My ears started ringing, and everyone’s voices became thick. I was going to faint. I never thought of myself as wimpy, but needles, I realized, make me sick. About to keel over, I cracked my eyes open to look at Ren.
He was watching me with concern. When our eyes met, he smiled my favorite lopsided grin, the sweet expression he used only with me, and for just a moment the pain disappeared. For that brief instant, I allowed myself to believe he was still mine, and that he loved me. Everyone else in the room vanished to leave only us.
I wished that I could touch his cheek and brush back his silky black hair or trace the arch of his eyebrow. I stared into his handsome face and let those feelings overwhelm me, and in that fleeting time, I felt the ghost of our emotional connection.
It was just a mere whisper, like a scent on the breeze that blows past too quickly, bringing with it a memory of something you can’t quite grasp. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, a flicker of something real, or something I fabricated, but it captured all of my attention. My entire being was focused on Ren, to the point that when Mr. Kadam pulled out the needle and replaced it with a cotton ball, I realized that I’d dropped Kishan’s hand completely.
Voices rushed back into my consciousness. I nodded in answer to Kishan’s question and looked from my hand to Ren again, but he’d left the room. Mr. Kadam asked Kishan to assist him in placing his own device. He began explaining the difference between our technology and the others he’d described.
I only half-listened, but I did hear him say that we could access one another’s tags with new cell phones, which he then distributed. He explained how the power source worked. I sat nodding slightly but snapped out of my trance when Kishan stood up several minutes later. Mr. Kadam offered me some aspirin and water. I swallowed the pills and headed to my bedroom.
Restless and uncomfortable, I lay on top of my covers unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep. My hand was sore and sleeping with it tucked under my cheek was out of the question.
I heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in.”
“I heard you wiggling around and guessed that you were still awake,” said Ren, closing the door softly behind him. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
I sat up and clicked on the bedside lamp. “No. It’s fine. What’s the matter? Do you want to go out onto the veranda?”
“No. Kishan seems to have taken up permanent residence out there.”
“Oh.” I looked through the window and saw a black tail hanging over the edge of the loveseat twitching lazily back and forth.
“I’ll talk to him about that. He doesn’t need to babysit me. I’m perfectly safe here.”
Ren shrugged. “He likes to watch over you.”
“So what did you want to talk about?”
He sat down on the edge of my bed. “I … I
’m not sure exactly. How’s your hand?”
“It stings. How’s yours?”
“Mine’s healed up already.” He held up his hand for inspection.
I took his hand in mine and studied it. I couldn’t even tell anything was under his skin. He wrapped his fingers around mine briefly. I blushed, and he brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against my warm cheek, which caused my skin to burn even hotter.
“You’re blushing.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s … quite becoming.”
I sat very still and watched his expression as he concentrated on my face. He lifted his hand and touched a strand of my hair. He trailed his fingers down the length of it. I sucked in a breath, and he did too— but for a different reason. A bead of sweat trailed from his forehead down his temple when he pulled back.
“Are you alright?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s worse when I touch you.”
“Then don’t touch me.”
“I need to get past this. Give me your hand.”
I placed my right hand in his, and he covered it with his left. He closed his eyes and held my hand for a full minute. I felt a light tremor in his arm as he cupped my hand gently between his. Finally, he let go.
“Is it time for you to change back to a tiger?”
“No, I have time left. I can remain in human form for twelve hours now.”
“Then what is it? Why are you shaking?”
“I don’t know. It feels like something’s burning me when I touch you. My stomach cramps, my vision blurs, and my head throbs.”
“Try sitting over there.” I pointed to the couch.
He stubbornly sat on the floor with his back to the bed and brought up a knee to rest his elbow on.
“Is that better?” I asked.
“Yes. The burning is gone but the blurry vision, headache, and stomach heaving is still there.”