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my shirt, I headed back out into the main room with Caelan's jacket and laid it at the foot of the bed. Caelan had slept through it all. With nothing else to do but wait, I turned on the television. I only managed to flip by two channels before I saw it. The local early morning news was running the story. They had my high school senior picture–does the phrase "big hair" mean anything to you–with the word
    "Abducted?" plastered across it. Even on CNN–I couldn't believe this dump had cable–they had a blurb running across the bottom of the screen. "26 yr old waitress disappears from Silver Springs, TX. Local authorities consider an Observer to be the primary suspect."
    "Damn." I turned away from the television and went to the side of the bed where Caelan lay.
    "Caelan?" I said softly. I didn't want to startle him or break his concentration, if that was what this absolute stillness was. His eyes opened for a split second, then closed again before I had time to ask him if he was all right.
    I looked down to check his back, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Instead of the ragged and furrowed skin that had almost made me throw up, his back appeared smooth, though still bloody. Wherever there had been an injury with glass or metal or wood, only a healing pink line remained and near each of those lines, the piece of debris that had once been in his flesh. I picked up a shard of glass and stared at it. You could still 58
    Stacey Klemstein
    see where the blood had clotted to the smooth surface. There was no question–it had once been under his skin. His body had forced it out like a splinter. Could they all do that? And if they could, what else could they do?
    "No wonder everyone's afraid of you guys," I muttered. I saw the tattoo just as I started to move away from him. It was like none I'd ever seen before, and I've seen my share. In the small of Caelan's back, flames engulfed a bluish green planet. But the shades of blue, green, red, and yellow were so vibrant they appeared to be the color of his skin rather than dye beneath the surface. The blue seemed wet, that was how real it looked. And carving that image in two, right down the center of the planet, was what appeared to be a large piece of the diner's front window. It couldn't have been more than a half-inch from his spine. The wound still seeped blood, and the glass appeared firmly embedded.
    "Oh, shit," I whispered. He shouldn't have been walking around with an injury like that. The glass could shift and damage his spine. He needed help for this one.
    As if someone else were reading my thoughts, sirens sounded in the distance. I checked my watch again and swore. Ten minutes over the hour I'd paid for. Word of the diner disaster must have reached the woman in the motel office somehow. The police scanner, I realized belatedly, remembering the indistinct chatter emanating from behind the counter. No wonder the clerk had acted so strangely. She had known who I was from the beginning but waited to bust us until she was sure she wouldn't have to refund the $30. Humanity, ain't it beautiful?
    I started to reach for Caelan to try to wake him, then stopped. He was badly injured. There was no way he could get up and out of here in time, and certainly no way I could move him. The decision had been taken from us. The police would come and get him and take me back home. He'd probably end up in jail for 59
    The Silver Spoon

    escaping from Brigham, and I...I might be getting another visit from Nevan.
    "Screw it." I shook his shoulder a little harder this time.
    "Caelan, they're coming."
    "Zara," he said, but his eyes remained closed.
    "We've got about three minutes to get out of here." I looked toward the door, ears trained on the sound of the sirens. "Maybe less."
    He looked up at me then, his eyes beginning to focus on my face. "They're coming."
    "Yeah, I know." I ran my hands through my hair.
    "You have to help us. You're the only one who can." He sat up.
    I backed away. "What