The Waking (The Upturned Hourglass), page 15
Valie grabbed a helmet.
The rounded headpiece felt awkward in her inexperienced hands, and heavier than she expected. She handled it clumsily, trying to figure out exactly how to put the thing on.
Jack rolled his eyes and took it from her. He paused for a moment, wordlessly warning Valie of his intention, before shoving it down on her head.
“Ow,” Valie complained when the sides pressed down on her ears.
“Sorry,” the boy said with no conviction.
Once the helmet was on, Valie looked out the visor as Jack put on his. She had almost no peripheral vision and her breath was hot and moist inside the headgear. Suddenly, she found herself breathing too fast. She wanted more air. She needed more air.
Jack observed Valie’s mild panic almost before she herself did. He took hold of the helmet and slid the face shield upward—allowing the cool air to hit her face, but it wasn’t enough. Valie struggled with the thing, tugging it off of her head as fast as she could.
“You okay?” he asked with real concern in his voice, momentarily forgetting himself.
Valie sucked down the fresh air, trying to slow her breathing back to its normal rhythm.
“Yeah. Fine,” she gasped.
He looked skeptical.
So much for avoiding the conversation. . . .
“I’m claustrophobic,” Valie explained. “Tight spaces kind of freak me out….”
“Helmets?” he asked, sounding more amused than worried.
Valie frowned at him, still trying to catch her breath.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, but then became thoughtful. “I don’t want you to ride without a helmet. . . .”
“Give me a sec,” Valie interjected. She inhaled deeply a few times. “Sometimes I can get used to the feeling.”
Valie began to slide the helmet onto her head, but stopped and pulled it back off.
“If I pass out or something, don’t laugh, okay?” She looked pleadingly into the boy’s eyes hoping to find more than just amusement.
He looked at her seriously. “I swear to you, if you pass out, laughing will be the farthest thing from my mind.” His tone made Valie’s stomach do somersaults and her breathing hitch once again.
Before Jack could notice her reaction to his words, Valie tossed her hair back and jammed the helmet onto her head with some difficulty. The visor was still opened. Gradually, she closed it, allowing herself to adjust to the change. After well over a minute of successful breathing inside the fishbowl-like thing—without hyperventilating—Valie indicated to Jack that she thought she would be okay.
Well, she would be okay with the helmet. Riding the bike was a much different story, but Valie refused to say another word. It was the fastest way to get to where she desperately wanted to go.
Jack was already sitting astride the mechanical monster. It roared to life beneath his touch.
The girl inhaled slowly before joining him.
“Hold on,” he ordered. Valie could hear the humor in his voice.
Valie felt acutely self-conscious reaching for Jack, so she instead found hand holds behind the seat and nearly strangled them in her grip. Jack glanced back, and shook his head somewhat patronizingly.
“Here,” he insisted. He took one of Valie’s hands in his own and placed it securely around his waist. She blushed at his touch and was grateful for the shaded helmet.
A moment later, they were off, speeding through the streets. An apparent advantage with a motorcycle was the ability to weave in and out of traffic with ease—and, with Jack driving, at speed. Valie would have preferred a nice, enclosed car in which to hyperventilate. The bike was so small—what if something hit them? Or worse, what if she just slid off?
Valie winced and tightened her hold even more as she envisioned falling off the bike at this speed.
“We passed a nursery a few blocks back,” Valie shouted at him. She didn’t know if he could hear her.
“We’re not going to a nursery,” Jack called back to her. Valie wondered where they were going, but she didn’t press for more.
Eventually, the boy coasted to a stop in front of a large, abandoned-looking building near the tracks of the railroad. Apparently, one corner housed some sort of store. The door was off its hinges and leaned inside the darkened building. The window was cracked and heavily encrusted with dust, revealing nothing of the interior.
“Well this is charming,” Valie muttered.
Jack said nothing; but, with no caustic quip forthcoming, Valie took that as an encouraging sign that his mood had improved.
As the werewolf led the way, Valie followed hesitantly to the back of the building where an alleyway ran between the brick building and another dilapidated structure, which couldn’t be seen from the street.
“An alley. Lovely. A claustrophobic’s dream,” Valie jibed nervously. “I suppose you had to pick the remotest location possible to find this stupid plant of yours? Where are we going anyway?” The girl rambled on in a querulous, shaky voice. Instinctively, she hugged her body as a sudden fit of cold shivers gripped her.
“Do you always talk incessantly when you’re nervous?”
Valie blushed and nodded, knowing Jack couldn’t see, but said nothing more.
Jack took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of what he’d taken on. By rights, she ought to be Isaac’s responsibility, not his. Valie was so clueless and naïve. Right now, she seemed much younger to him than her eighteen years, but, perhaps, he’d lost all human perspective. This girl—no matter how inexperienced—deserved the truth and he was going to have to begin her lessons somewhere.
He really hoped she was a quick study.
“We’re going to an Occult shop.” He didn’t mention the fact that other members of their clan had been staying there. “It sells some charms and potions as well as a few rare ingredients used in Hexerie or the Craft. I remember smelling aconite the last time I was in here.”
“I take it this ‘shop’ is not typically used by humans?”
“The two shopkeepers deal mostly with those with the Sight, both human and non.”
“’The Sight?’”
“The ability to see through the illusions created by certain members of the Occult, mostly those of the Craft.”
“You’re talking about magic?”
“Yes, but M-A-G-I-C-K.”
Valie rolled her eyes as his correction. “Does one letter really make a difference?”
Jack nodded and laughed. “Trust me. I’ve had the same debate with more than one magick-wielder, or Craftsmen as they like to be called—though you would know them as witches and warlocks and the like. They are adamant that the ‘k’ is very, very important.”
“Are these ‘Craftsmen’ friendly toward werewolves?” Valie asked hesitantly.
Jack turned his head sharply and looked at the girl following him. He believed it was the first sensible question she’d asked in the last twenty-four hours—at least from his standpoint. He stood there a moment, trying to delve beyond the appearance of a slender girl shivering with cold—one who was always wrapping her arms around herself because no one else ever had. Yes, she looked cold, scared and uncertain, a fact he easily sensed, though would never have believed by her outward attitude. She seemed to wear a strong disguise, a protective one. Jack suddenly felt a visceral urge to hold the tense girl until she could relax. He stiffened and spoke before anymore could come of the thought.
“Craftsmen are very shrewd and are always looking for an advantage—as much to protect themselves from each other as well as other Occult members. They are dependent on exchange and will not provide any service or give anything away without the promise of something in return. They make, therefore, superb merchants, like the owners of this shop.” Jack motioned to the concrete wall to their left. Valie looked at him questioningly and glanced around.
“What shop?” she asked cautiously.
Jack stared at the wall and then back at Valie.
“Sorry. I forgot that it’s charmed in order to hide it from the Blind. We’ll see if we can find some conspectus root while we’re in here; it’ll allow you to really see. Come on.”
Valie frowned, but watched as Jack reached for an imaginary door, turned an imaginary knob, and vanished into the cement wall. The girl quickly backed away from the man-eating wall. People did not just vanish! It wasn’t possible.
Valie gasped involuntarily as the upper half of Jack’s body reappeared through the wall.
“Are you coming or not?”
She shook her head. Jack sighed, exasperated.
“Trust me? Please?”
Valie shook her head more vigorously, which only made him laugh.
“Here.” His whole body emerged from the cement wall, and he stepped toward Valie to take her shaking hand. It was cold, but soft, as he gripped it firmly and led her—dragged her—over to the wall, and finally through the door only he could see. He didn’t notice, but Valie had scrunched her eyes tightly shut and held her breathe, as if she were going under water.
Once through the charmed entrance, he turned to find her still in that ridiculous defensive posture. Jack gave her arm a little shake. Slowly, she opened her eyes and immediately stood transfixed. She gaped in amazement at that which, only a moment before, had been hidden from her vision.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Valie realized that she owed a big apology to her friend Luci.
The look on her face was priceless, but Jack stifled the chuckle that built in his throat. “If cheap tricks impress you this much, you are in for quite a revelation once you can actually see.”
Valie swallowed compulsively and just nodded, speechless, as she turned to study the door through which they’d entered. There was a door—wooden with an inset, glass window through which she could see the alleyway beyond. It was perfectly ordinary, except that it had been invisible only moments before.
She heard Jack moving away and she quickly turned to follow. The shop was small, but had a mind-boggling amount of merchandise packed into it. She assumed that’s what it was. All the items were unfamiliar to Valie, but many of the bottles and boxes were old and exotic looking. She was dying to know what was in them, but, of course, she kept her mouth shut.
As the two approached a glass counter on the far wall, an acrid, musty scent seemed to fill the air. A small, slightly crooked, middle-aged man stood over the glass. He wore glasses, almost ridiculous in dimension, the lenses being far too big for his small eyes, even as they were magnified by the glass. His ears, too, seemed disproportioned. His face was shadowed by stubble and his thinning hair was horribly combed over. If he was the result of some illusion, he was an unattractive and creepy one at that. One would think magickal beings could do better.
“Borken,” Jack greeted as he approached the man.
“Ah, my young, Lycan friend,” said the strange man in a nasal voice. “The others are away at the moment, but is there anything I can help you with?”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Though he hadn’t scented Eliza, Terrence or Isaac, Borken’s reassurance was gratifying.
“We require some aconite and some conspectus root, if you have them.”
The warlock eyed him curiously. “An odd request from a person such as yourself,” Borken said hesitantly. “Conspectus root we are in full supply of, and we have aconite on hand as well. However, I do not wish to be the means by which any harm may befall you or your companions . . . . May I suggest you purchase the dried plant? Its toxicity is greatly tempered in comparison with the unprocessed product—much more potent, you see.”
Jack smiled politely. “Dried aconite will do perfectly, thank you.”
Borken seemed pleased with this decision and skittered about the shop to find the items.
“This plant you intend to give me is poisonous?” Valie asked quietly.
“Yes, but that’s why we’re getting the processed version.” Jack grinned crookedly at her and couldn’t help but wink in response to so earnest an expression on the pretty girl’s face.
Valie’s face flushed and she turned away in embarrassment.
Jack chuckled softly under his breath as Borken returned with two small packages, each wrapped in brown paper and labeled carefully in an elegant black script as to the contents of each.
“Will this be all for you, my young friends?”
“Yes,” Jack replied, taking the packages and handing them off to Valie, who cradled them timidly in both hands.
“That will be two-hundred and eighty dollars, if you please.” Valie’s mouth dropped open, but Jack seemed unconcerned as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket and handed a few, high-value bills to the crooked man. “Thank you, and I hope you have a nice day. I will see you when you return.”
“And you as well,” Jack said graciously before he turned and walked out of the malodorous shop, Valie quick at his heels.
“Three hundred dollars?” she asked appalled as soon as they’d started down the alley. She glanced behind her to see if the door was visible. It wasn’t.
“Magickal merchandise is far from cheap, especially in this economy. It’s hard to make a living these days, if you hadn’t heard. People charge what they can.”
“Occult have jobs?”
“Of course. Not all, but those who wish to live in conjunction with the Blind must.”
“Do you have a job?”
“No.”
“Then how the heck can you dish out three hundred dollars?”
“Many members of our clan work and pay to support the others. Isaac was beyond being well-off when I first met him, so he was generous with his pack and Noah, too, was left an incredible amount of money when his parents died and, having no other relations, he is left to do with it as he pleases.”
“And he also…helps out the pack. Like by giving you three hundred dollars to spend on a few plants?” Valie held up the packages in incredulity.
“Of course.”
“So is aconite poisonous to werewolves as well as humans?”
“Yes. Aconite is commonly called ‘wolfsbane’, because it is especially poisonous to our kind, though it is toxic to humans as well.”
“Just how poisonous is poisonous?”
“Well, it has a gradual, but lethal, numbing sensation in humans, but we would die within seconds of it passing our lips—I understand it to be a most painful and agonizing way to die. I’ve not witnessed it myself, so I’m not sure of all the details. All I can say for certain is that we are all extremely careful to avoid it, which is made relatively easy considering its odor is so repugnant to us.”
“It does smell really bad,” Valie replied, sniffing the tightly tied Aconite package.
Jack nodded more seriously, beginning to think about the matter at hand.
“We’ll have to be very careful how we apply it. You might be as susceptible to the herb as any werewolf would be. We can’t let it touch the skin.”
Valie suddenly felt uncomfortable holding such a package.
“Right. If I’m part werewolf . . . .” Up to this point, Valie had not consciously let her mind focus on any physical implications about having Isaac as her father. And such thoughts didn’t set well with her. “Are we going to see my father now?” she asked impatiently, as the yellow motorcycle popped back into view.
Jack was hard-pressed to remain calm as he was once again faced with the idea of leading Valie into the lions’ den. The thought of the girl within a hundred miles of Isaac was distressing, to say the least. She simply did not realize the danger she was in. How could she? The boy didn’t believe for one moment that he could stop the older werewolf from hurting her if it came down to a fight between the two of them. And surely Isaac would have Terrence and Eliza with him or, at least, Eliza—and that would be bad enough. Knowing Terrence, he would pop up at the most unexpected and inopportune moment for Jack, which would surely mean the end of Jack’s ill-conceived plans. They were formidable werewolves, loyal to Isaac, and would love nothing better than to defeat Jack in an open battle—pack-mates or not.
“Jack?”
He shook himself out of his brooding reverie and glanced over at Valie. Her brow was furrowed, too. She was beginning to look worried herself.
Well, about time, he thought.
“Are we going now?” she repeated. Jack’s darkening mood wasn’t instilling a whole lot of confidence in her.
“Yes,” he answered flatly. “We’ll meet up with Noah at the lake.”
They reached the end of the alley where the yellow motorcycle waited. Jack handed Valie her helmet as he mounted the vehicle.
“Try not to fall off—or pass out.”
Valie glowered at him before taking a deep breath and shoving on the heavy helmet once again. She had to concentrate on simply breathing in and out-- instead devising inventive ways to hurt the beautiful, obnoxious guy in front of her. Though, he was taking her to see her father. She would focus on that.
Valie was going to meet Isaac.
TRUTH HURTS
When Jack and Valie reached the highway, they drove halfway to the lake and pulled off near the woods at some obscure truck stop. Jack hopped off the bike and immediately started walking away from the road. Valie, wobbly-legged and awkward, dismounted and dragged herself along behind him slowly.
“How is Noah going to come with us?” she complained, trying to get Jack to slow down. “He won’t fit on your bike.”
“He’ll run,” Jack asserted. He walked ahead of the girl, on, to the very edge of the woods. Valie stopped, apprehensively scanning the dark outline of trees looming ahead of them, but then hurried to catch up before she could lose sight of the graceful boy.
They soon left the road and the motorcycle behind as they navigated through the trees. Jack was silent, tense. Valie was anxious as well, but selfishly decided she had more of a right to be than the wolf-boy. After all, it was her life at stake. It was her life she was endangering. But was it just hers? She shook her head, trying to banish any second thoughts from her mind, but they persisted.
