Waken (The Woods of Everod Book 1) (16 page)

Kyle gripped Tristan’s arm. “Chill, man. You know where this is coming from. Let it go.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Tristan relaxed his hold on Bryce and gave him a shove back. Bryce smoothed his shirt down and, keeping his eyes on Tristan, pushed Kyle out of the booth. “Move. I’m sick of this crap. You can suck it, Tristan. I’ve got better things to do than watch you play around with a new blood. If you think she’s any different, you’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not wrong on this.” Tristan said with confidence.

Both Kyle and Bryce stared at him a moment before Bryce stomped away. He settled at the counter and loudly called to the waitress to get his food for him. She came over and apologetically reached across to get his plate. I nervously swept the strewn fries to the far end of the table, unsure what to say.

Tristan rested his elbows on the table and buried his fingers in his hair. He twisted his face to me. “I’m sorry. I...that’s been building for a while. And he just pushed me one too many times.”

“What’s he been doing?”

He shook his head and I glanced at Kyle.

“Bryce has a thing for you,” Kyle answered.

“What? Why would you think that?”

“Trust me on this. He’s been ragging on Tristan ever since The Grounds.”

“Drop it, Kyle,” Tristan said, lifting his head. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah, let me run to the restroom and we can leave.” My appetite had disappeared in the wake of the altercation.

“Okay, I’ll meet you outside.”

The restroom was at the back of the restaurant and the dim light swung back and forth in the manufactured breeze of the air conditioner. Yellow wallpaper peeled from where the wall met the ceiling. I washed my hands, rinsing away the crumbs of my sandwich. The door pushed open and I was propelled further into the small space. Rachel stood there, her hand pulling the door closed behind her.

“Janie,” she said with a hesitant smile.

“Rachel.” I nodded at her and shut off the water. I didn’t know what she wanted, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence that she’d appear in the restroom at the same time as me.

“How have you been?” she asked.

My hands stilled in the process of drying themselves with a brown paper towel, and I turned to stare at her.

“How have I been? Why would you even care?”

“I explained that.”

I almost laughed at her, but the pleading in her eyes tempered me. “No, you didn’t. You gave me some lame ass speech about how Tristan is yours and that I should leave town, then you walked away.”

“I made a promise before I met you and telling you why I can’t be friends with you would break that promise.” Her head drooped and I felt a surge of sympathy, but it was immediately overruled by the memory of her throwing my parents in my face.

“How could you make a promise about me before you even knew me?”

“Not just you, Janie. Anybody.” She sighed at my disbelieving look. “But I don’t want you to get hurt, or…Just be safe, okay?”

She turned and began walking out the door.
That was it? That’s all she had to say to me?
Until I heard her empty words, I hadn’t realized how angry I was with her.

“You know, you warn me about Tristan, but you’re the one that hurt me,” I said to her back. She paused and looked back at me. “I told you about my parents and you used it against me because you were jealous. I can’t believe I thought you might be a decent human being. Tristan was right, you don’t really care. You just feed off the drama.”

The blood drained from her face, and she stared at me another moment before walking away. It was an act. Even Bryce had suggested that Rachel was manipulative. I followed her. I thrived on control. It was the only thing that had kept me from giving in to the pain Elin had rained upon me, but I was pissed. After what she’d said to me in the library, she had the gall to act like she cared.

“You’re a jealous, petty bitch.” The accusation echoed through the cafe and every head in the place turned to gawk at us. Maybe their fascination came from the hilarity of our differences. At five foot eight, Rachel loomed over me and, by the look on her face, she was ready to squash me like an ant.

“You’re nothing, a new blood. A month or two and he’ll be done with you,” she sneered. “I may be a bitch, but I know my place and it will be with Tristan. Even he knows that.”

“Janie.” Tristan’s voice stopped the vicious words about to pour out of me. “Let’s go.”

I scowled at him, but walked to join him at the entryway.

“Ah, protecting your little girlfriend? Isn’t that sweet.” Sarcasm dripped from the words.

“She’s not your business.”

“You’re wrong!” She stood up, her voice rising with anger. “Have you told her yet?”

“Don’t cross me, Rach.” Tristan glared at her.

Tristan turned his back to her and motioned to the door, “Your ride awaits, beautiful.”

The door flew open under the harsh pressure of my hand as I walked into the fresh outdoor air. I inhaled deeply, my entire body quivered with the fury and frustration bubbling inside of me. Then I turned on him.

“Argh!” I turned on my heel and stomped towards the car. “I’m so tired of you avoiding this. People keep making these cryptic comments, ‘have you told her?’ ‘does she know?’ and each time you brush me off.”

“I know you’re upset-” He gripped my hand, pulling me to a stop. I swiveled back around to glare at him.

“No, I’m beyond upset. I’m verging on pissed right now.”

I tugged loose and continued walking, but instead of getting in his car, I went for the library.

Passing through the atrium, I was oblivious to the presence of Ms. Markov, concentrating on simply escaping the feelings Rachel had ignited and Tristan had enflamed with his continued avoidance.

I reached the lower level, Tristan only a step behind me. The doors were all closed and I hesitated before going into the archives room. A chill swept through me as we entered the dark room. I ran my hand along the wall searching for a light switch, when suddenly blinding light filled the space.

Tristan stood across the room, one hand raised to the switch hidden between empty shelves.

“What are you looking for?”

I arched my brows, then immediately hated the disbelief I had in his curiosity.

Deciding to ignore the question, I went straight to the book. Someone had been reading it since I’d been here. I remembered closing it, my fingerprints imbedded in the thick layer of dust. Now it stood open to the prophecy.

“Marked by the wolf. A daughter of Amelia,” I read. “Infected will be free.”

“Spilling of her blood, the Infected will be free,” Tristan finished the words, reciting them from heart. “I know the words, Janie. Why are we here?”

Each defensive word made my heart shrivel with suspicion. I braced my hands on either side of the book. My fingers trembled as I fought to control the urge to rip the page out.

“What does this mean? Why an entire room devoted to a book of formulas? Why do you have this memorized?”

“The people who established the town had beliefs that most don’t follow.”

“Like a cult?”

“No, beliefs in things...otherworldly.”

“Like shape shifting wolves?”

“Like shape shifting wolves.” His eyes darted between mine and the book.

“And this? Is it supposed to be some kind of prophecy?”

“Not a prophecy. A promise.”

I ran my hand along the page, images flashing through my mind. The pendant Elin had left behind, the tattoo on Tristan’s wrist, and finally the mark on my back. Tristan’s hand covered mine and I looked up at him. “Please tell me you’re not dating me because you think my birthmark is some kind of sign.”

“I’m not dating you because of the mark. I’m dating you because I happen to think you’re sweet and quiet and different from anyone I’ve ever met. And it helps that you’re hot, too.”

“Is this it? Some weird cultural beliefs?” He didn’t respond. “Tristan, tell me, please.”

“I’ve told you as much as I can right now. I know you want answers. There’s someone I need to talk to first. As soon as I’ve done that, I’ll tell you. I promise.” He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing tightly. I loved the strength of his hold, the security it gave me. When he let me go, it was to lead me from the room and across the hall to the media center.

“I’m guessing this was where you were originally heading.”

The piano was exactly where it had been, but all traces of dust had been removed and the ebony wood polished. I moved towards it, apprehensive of the power the instrument had over my emotions.

Playing had been my first thought after blowing up at Rachel and Tristan, but the book had seemed a safer outlet. Did I want to do this again? The last time I played, it had been an act of desperation, a release of emotions that terrified me, scared of everything and everyone I couldn’t control. After seeing Rachel and letting everything out, I didn’t know if I had it in me.

“Will you play? For me?” Tristan walked around the other side of the piano.

“I don’t really like to play.”

His face softened, and his eyes warmed. He sat me down, tenderly resting his hands on my shoulders.

I ran a scale and then put my hands in my lap, rubbing my suddenly sweating palms along my thighs.

“Please.” He cupped the back of my head and turned my face to his. With his eyes wide open, he touched his lips to mine, so softly and swift that I would have missed it if I’d closed my eyes.

I raised my hands and began playing the song of our night in the park. Beginning with a light playful melody, a memory of his claim to love Bela Lugosi, and then intensifying as I recalled my anticipation and finally the devastating power his kiss had reigned over me. There were traces of fear and hesitance, but also hope and love and a good dose of lust.

The love was the most terrifying part. I refused to believe that I was one of those insipid girls that fell in love at first sight, that I would fall victim to the physical charms of a guy and not consider the person within. Lust was much more plausible, that I could handle, but every minute we spent together, I felt like I knew his soul. I didn’t know if I loved him, but whatever I did feel was beyond lust.

When I released the last lingering note, I felt him come up behind me, not touching, just standing there. I wondered what he was thinking, what he would say or do. Finally, he looped his arms around me, engulfing me in his warmth. His lips pressed to my ear and with each exhale shivers crept along my spine, then turned deep within, building an ache inside of me.

His arms tightened around me and he sighed heavily. “That was beautiful,” he whispered, then kissed my temple before releasing me. He sat down beside me facing the opposite direction; he took my hand, massaging my palm. “Why don’t you like playing?”

I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to take the chance that by telling him I would change his mind about me. I looked at him, and his half smile was so beguiling that I forgot any hesitation.

“My mother played.”

“She taught you?”

“No.” I gave a short sardonic laugh. “I learned, hoping it would please her. Instead, it only made things worse. It was the one thing she loved, but it didn’t come naturally. It seemed as if it was the most important thing in the world. It infuriated her that I taught myself and was more skilled than her. I play, but every time I sit on the bench I see her face twisted with loathing.”

“Even now? While you were playing for me?” He lightly gripped my chin, tilting my face until I could only see him.

I smiled. “No. No, I didn’t see her then.”

“You talent doesn’t come from her, Janie,” he said huskily. “It comes from your father.”

“What?” I pulled back confusion, dislodging his hand.

“I said that it didn’t come from your mother, so maybe it came from your father.”

That hadn’t been the way he said it the first time. He said it as if he knew for a fact, as if he knew my father. Now he was suggesting it. Did he know my father? I suppose it was possible, Everod was a small town and if he’d come back here, Tristan surely knew him. But how would he know the man was my father?

I shook off my suspicions and ran my hands along the ivory keys, breaking the silence that was filling the room. It was a possibility I didn’t want to consider.

Chapter 14

When Tristan came over that night, we curled up on the couch watching an old black and white movie, a small fire crackling in the fireplace. Tim played the concerned parent, quizzing us on our plans before disappearing with Justin to the movies, leaving us alone.

Tim had practically shoved Justin out the door, determined to give me the typical teenage experiences I’d denied myself for years. His parenting only went so far and he was lucky I didn’t take advantage of his unquestioning trust.

Most guys would have taken advantage, making a move as soon as Tim was gone, but Tristan wasn’t normal. After a few chaste pecks, he forced me to watch the movie, the absolute last thing I wanted to do with him.