The Waking (The Upturned Hourglass) (34 page)

Her mind refused to be forced away from him, but her eyes she could control and she kept them carefully trained on the cityscape outside of the car. Valie could barely fight the temptation Jack Haden presented to her on a
good
day much less when she was drugged.

Valie bit her lip—
hard
. As her eyes teared up, she focused on the pain and the taste of her own blood.

Many more miles rolled by. All was quiet in the dark car as it sped along the road through fragrant pines outside of the city. The rain was now a gentle mist. The only sound to be heard was the plopping of droplets upon their windshield from the trees branches overhead—at least to Valie’s ears. Jack could plainly hear the girl’s pounding heart and wondered at it, but some instinct told him to keep still, until finally he couldn’t help but speak.

“Here we are,” he said reluctantly, breaking the silence at last.  He pulled onto a gravel road that led up to a two-story cabin. Smoke was coming out of the chimney and the porch light was on.

Valie just nodded, and sucked on her lip. She’d successfully focused on the pain—right up until the moment Jack had spoken again. She was back to fighting her own feelings.

Jack parked the car beneath a tall pine and rolled up the windows, at which point Valie jumped out of the car as quickly as she could.

The woods were perfectly silent, spooky to the already on-edge girl. The girl tried to will her fear to kick in more intensely so she could stop obsessing about the attractive werewolf now standing right beside her. And now she
was
afraid—afraid that he would touch her and it would all be over. . . .

The desperate girl waved the boy to go ahead of her and she resumed chewing on her lip, refusing to speak.

Jack led the way along the gravel road, their steps lightly crunching to announce their arrival. They reached the front porch where an overhead light encircled them in a soft glow. Jack lifted his hand to rap on the screen door when something diverted his attention and he paused to look at her. The light thrown upon Valie’s face made him draw in his breath. Instead of knocking, he gently lifted up her face toward his own.

So
not helping
, Valie thought. She shivered, but otherwise remained motionless—not daring to look into his eyes.

“You’re bleeding,” Jack murmured as he inspected Valie’s lip.

“I bit it,” she whispered, obviously embarrassed.

Valie could feel the boy’s warmth radiating all around her. She put her hand upon his arm and felt the soft texture of his skin, taut over the muscles along his arms. Her hand followed his arm up to his shoulder, to the back of his neck and stroked the hair along his collar, and brushed the hair from his forehead that glistened with the dewy rain and no longer could she resist. Valie reached for him with her whole being.

The teenager had never been driven by passion, but as she pulled him to her, instinct kicked in.  She knew what she wanted. Jack was so surprised that at first he pulled back, but once she lifted her lips to his, he stopped fighting. He kissed her softly and gently, and then his passion deepened. For Valie it was the perfect kiss—perfect, except for its abrupt end when the front door opened.

The two flew apart. Valie tucked her hands behind her back and
blushed a deep red. Jack slowly slipped his hands into his pockets and took a couple of deep breaths. His eyes were wide, his breathing hitched, though he, too, was self-conscious as he stared at Valie.

“Jack,” the man in the doorway greeted his Lycan friend. Valie could only make out a tall, dark outline, as she looked into the interior brightness of light that shocked her sensitive eyes. She blinked rapidly and shielded her eyes with her hand.

Trying to recover his composure, Jack responded quickly, “Hello, Jericho.” Jack’s voice was rough, but in an agreeable way. Valie had never heard this tone in his voice—but it was beautiful. Unfortunately, the girl couldn’t decide if he sounded happy or just confused. Or perhaps she couldn’t decide if
she
were happy or just confused.

“Would you care to come in?”
Jericho asked, rather bemused.  “Or is it warm enough for you out there?”

Jack pulled his eyes away from Valie.

“Yes. Can we come in? Please?” His tone was deliberate, but almost breathless; it made Valie blush deeper.

“Of course,” the man laughed and motioned for them to enter. Uncertainly, the two stepped into
Jericho’s house, knowing what had happened on the porch had not just ended, but only begun.

“So what you’re telling me,” Jericho said to Jack. “Is that this shy, blushing bell before me is a Lycanthrope half-blood?”  The man was obviously more curious than dismayed, as he and Jack stood in the entry to the den, quietly observing the teenager as she became mesmerized by the firelight’s shadow cast on the high beam ceiling. 

“A very drugged-out half-blood,” Jack muttered. The event on the porch had him brooding. Had Valie really wanted to kiss him or had it purely been an effect of the double-sunset? Would she even remember anything about tonight? And more importantly, would she admit it if she did? All good questions for which he had no
answers. . .and he was skipping over another important question--how had
he
felt about it?

Okay. He knew that part. The moment between them had been unbelievable. But what if a sober Valie didn’t actually feel that way about him?

She could get over it.

“Did you want me to give her the antidote?”
Jericho asked nonchalantly.

Jack looked at the older man. He’d almost forgotten how much he looked like his sister. They had the same copper-colored hair, though
Jericho had a beard—Max, thankfully, did not—and his hair was graying. Their eyes were similar, too, in their open, almond shape, but Jericho’s were a light, kind brown—the color of the bark on the trees, which he loved. All too many years ago, Maxine’s eyes had eternally changed to their present, revealing crimson.

“What will happen if you don’t?” Jack inquired carefully.

Jericho shrugged. “From what I know of that particular drink—which, unfortunately, is more than the average human—the effects will pass by morning. She should wake up no worse for wear, except for a pretty bad headache.”

Jack’s eyebrow rose. “You’ve had a double-sunset?”

The older man laughed and nodded. “Oh, yes . . . I was younger, naïve about my sister’s new world.” He chuckled. “I have to say, though. I don’t remember being as . . . relaxed as Valie seems to be.” He nodded toward the girl who was now lying perpendicular on the couch, with her head upside down, staring up to the ceiling, tracing the patterns of light with her fingers in the air.

Jack smiled. “Yeah, well. She’s had a rough few days. I think her brain needed some down time. Why don’t we put off the antidote?”

Jericho looked at the werewolf sideways.

“Alright.”

Valie retrieved the poker by the fire and stirred the wood vigorously in order to prod from the flames, her dancing shadows.

“Er, you might want to take that away from her,”
Jericho suggested.

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Jack had already started toward the den.

“Just remember I’m upstairs,” Jericho said after him.

Jack cleared his throat. “Right,” and answered distractedly as he yanked the poker out of Valie’s hand, “Will do.”

“Good night.”

“Good night,
Jericho. And thank you. You don’t know how much this means.”

The kindly man smiled and turned before ascending the stairs. “I think I have some idea and I’m happy to do it. I believe in what you’re trying to do, Jack. I honestly hope you succeed.”

As Jericho turned back and climbed the stairs, Jack searched for a response, something to show his appreciation for the generosity of his host, but nothing came. Truth was, only the help and hope of others was keeping them afloat.

When Valie awoke, she was laying on yet another strange couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the tick of a grandfather clock in the far corner of a homely decorated den.

With bleary eyes, she glanced at the hands of the clock and looked out the window. It was clouded, but she knew it was near dawn.

What had happened to the last few hours?

Near the couch, Jack sat sleeping in an old armchair with a quilt draped over his shoulders. A buzzing sensation built in Valie’s core at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully there, a
buzzing sensation she forcibly stifled. She could not become attached to Jack. Not now, while her life was nothing short of chaos.

“Are you awake?” a low whisper asked from behind Valie’s head.

The girl turned suddenly to find a bearded, older man standing in the doorway of the den, looking at her with gentle eyes.

“I’m
Jericho, Max’s brother? We met last night, though by the looks of it, you don’t remember me,” he whispered.

Valie shook her head and apologized, “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”

Jericho motioned for her to lower her voice and pointed to Jack.

“Shh. He only recently fell asleep. The others are sleeping upstairs; they just got back from the club. Do you want something to eat or are you going to rest some more?”

Valie didn’t want to impose on the older man, so she politely responded, “I think I’ll rest a bit more. Thank you, though.”

“Of course.
I will be upstairs if you need anything.” Jericho smiled, nodded and returned upstairs.

Valie genuinely tried to go back to sleep, but she was officially awake. After about an hour, she rose silently, slipped past Jack and stood next to the window. It was foggy outside, so much so that the nearby trees were partially obscured. It had stopped raining for now, though. Valie suddenly longed for her late night trips to the park in Anders where it was just her, the crisp air and the clear night sky.

She padded to the front door, put on her shoes and silently stepped outside, hugging herself for a little extra warmth. The sun was just rising behind the clouds. Idly, Valie wondered what Maxine did when the sun was up.

The air was chilled with morning dew. The trees stood as silent watchers bearing down from above. Nothing moved. They really were out in the middle of nowhere, it seemed.

Valie wandered in, just beyond the treeline. She looked back at the house that had sheltered her through the night. Was this what her life was to be like from now on? Moving from one generous harbor to another, constantly moving, constantly on the run. . .

Valie turned back to the path she was following, but stopped dead at who was standing in her way. A small squeak of surprise escaped before she began to tremble.

There stood in front of her the man she’d only seen in photographs. The man she owed both her life and her misfortune to.

“Isaac. . .” she whispered.

BLOOD

Valie heard the front door of the house quickly open and slam behind her. An instinct told her it was Jack and she wasn’t wrong.

Jack was next to her in a flash, pulling Valie back behind him. A vicious snarl erupted from his chest.

“Now, Jack. That’s no way to greet an old friend.” Isaac admonished. His tone was fatherly, but Valie could detect an undercurrent of ferocity that left her paling.

Isaac was tall and muscular-looking despite his weathered features. His stringy hair was a dull black, even on the stubble on his unshaven jaw. His skin was sallow. Deep, dark circles framed the bags under his eyes. But it were those eyes that made Valie’s breath catch and stick in her throat.

They were
her
eyes. The exact same amber coloring of that man’s irises tinted her own.

“Hello, Valentine,” Isaac greeted formally. He nodded in her direction.

Foolishly, Valie opened her mouth to reply, but a snarl from the rigidly-postured Jack silenced her, reminding her that this was not a family reunion. The man standing in front of her was not really a father, but an assassin bent on her demise. He was the reason for all her troubles. He was the reason her life had been uprooted. He was the chaos of her life, or at least he was the cause. He certainly didn’t embody chaos. He stood much too erect, much too decorously. His posture was of another time. She wondered how old he truly was.