by K. C. Blake
Ian shifted in his seat. He sighed, gazing at the ceiling for a moment before his dark eyes returned to Jack’s face. “Ah, where to begin? It’s a long and sordid tale. I’m not sure if I should give you background first or start with the punch line.”
“Why don’t you just give it to me straight in three sentences or less? I’m wiped. You can always go back and fill in the rest later.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” Ian took a deep breath. “All right. Here we go.”
Jack’s ears strained to catch every word. He had the feeling it was going to be the most massive secret of his life. Ian was about to drop a bomb. The secret could be about his dad or about his brother. Either way he had to hear it.
Something was wrong. He didn’t realize there’d been a change until his ears filled with the sound of the pounding surf. Ian was talking, but Jack couldn’t hear him.
Familiar darkness came for him like a crafty enemy. It grabbed him with both hands and dragged him into a cold embrace. His blood turned to ice. His eyes rolled back into his head—and then he was gone.
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*****
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Flat on his back, Jack opened his eyes. The setting didn’t surprise him a bit. He was in the woods. Something was off. Instead of bright sunlight, there was a full moon hanging over him.
The last thing he remembered was talking to Ian in his bedroom. Something strange had happened to him. He hadn’t fallen asleep. It wasn’t like that. He’d been listening to Ian intently, waiting to hear the big secret, and then weird happened. He’d lost consciousness.
But why?
Jack struggled to his feet. Was he asleep? Was he in a coma or dead? For all he knew he could be trapped in the woods forever. He could try to force himself to wake up, but it hadn’t worked before. Why would it work now?
The soft crunch of feet moving over dried leaves and twigs reached his ears. Silver? He spun around to greet her, a welcoming smile in place. Only it wasn’t Silver.
A figure in black emerged from a thick line of trees. The trees were dead, not a single leaf on the branches. Jersey wore the satisfied expression of a cat that had just caught the mouse he’d been chasing for weeks. Looking up at the full moon, he quoted, “Art thou pale for weariness of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, wandering companionless among the stars that have a different birth?”
Byron again. Jersey smiled at Jack and added, “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been wondering if I could suck you into a dream for some time now.”
“You brought me here?”
“Indeed I did.”
“But I wasn’t even asleep.”
Jersey chuckled. “Isn’t it grand? I am more impressive, more powerful than anyone could have dreamed. No pun intended. As long as you’re here, let’s share information.”
While Jersey laid out his agenda, Jack put distance between them. The head werewolf was dangerous even in dreams. During one such dream Jersey had attacked Jack, making weapons appear at will. It was an experience Jack didn’t want to repeat. He did, however, want to reveal his true identity to his former teacher. He wondered what Jersey’s reaction would be at finding out Alexander had been his brother and not just a friend.
Or maybe Jersey already knew and didn’t care.
“Our destiny is coming full circle now,” Jersey said. “Can you feel it? Do you know how short your time on earth is going to be? The thing I hate about it the most is knowing how many things in life you are going to miss. There are books I still want to share with you, novels I’d love to discuss with you before I kill you.”
“That’s great, but I really don’t have time to read right now because I’m working hard training so I can kill you instead.”
Jersey tapped the side of his jaw with two fingers and pursed his lips together, deep in thought. He snapped those same fingers a second later. His face became animated like an overly excited cartoon character. “I’ve got it! I have a fantastic idea that could solve both of our problems.”
“What?”
“I will hold off on building my army if you will read a list of assigned books. And you are not allowed to stall or cheat. No Cliff Notes. Understood? You have to absorb the books as fast as you can so we can discuss them at length.”
Okay, Jersey Clifford was seriously deranged. Jack couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head until he started getting dizzy. “Are you kidding me? I graduated from school this year, finally, and I don’t want to do any more book reports.”
Jersey looked at him sideways, a sly smile on his lips. “Not even if it saves your girlfriend’s life? Silver will be able to go off to college, take those law classes she’s been salivating over.”
“How do you know about Silver’s career plans?”
“I still have friends working at Jefferson Memorial. You must remember, not everyone knows who I truly am. Once in a while I contact an old friend, ask a few questions. Silver’s guidance counselor kept me abreast of her goals and the incredible grade point average she maintained all last year.”
Jack took a few steps toward Jersey, no longer worried about getting too close to the man. “You stay away from her. I’m warning you.”
“I will, as long as you agree to do as I ask.” Jersey laughed. “You would think I was asking you to commit a crime. I only want you to read a short list of books and satisfy my curiosity. You need to tell me what you think of each great piece of literature I assign you. No holding back. I won’t ask for a written book report, just a long discussion on each. Agreed?”
Jersey stuck his hand out, and Jack stared at it in distaste. Reluctantly, he took the offered appendage and said, “Agreed.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “How will I get the list? And what about the report? Am I supposed to deliver it in dreams, or are you going to come and see me in person?”
Another sly smile. “Asking me that question is cheating. If you play the game, you have to play by the rules.”
Jack turned and walked away. He considered trying to suck Jersey’s soul out on the spot, but a flash of memory tore at the edges of his mind. The memory was of Jersey ripping Isobel’s soul out in five seconds or less. Jersey was too powerful for Jack to take on. Maybe if he had help he could defeat Jersey. Of course, he didn’t want to involve Silver and risk her getting hurt.
But what about Ian?
Ian might be able to burn Jersey until he was nothing more than a pile of ashes, despite his views on the matter.
With that thought in mind Jack briefly closed his eyes and wished Ian would appear. He’d never pulled anyone other than Jersey into a dream. It was a possible task although not probable. He had to try. He concentrated as hard as he could.
His reward: the sound of footsteps.
Jack turned in time to see Ian appear in a cloud of wispy dark gray smoke. The next few minutes seemed to happen in slow motion. Jersey revolved and saw Ian. The shock on his face was almost comical in nature. He took several steps backwards as Ian advanced, the cavalry arriving just in the nick of time.
There was going to be a fight.
A sword appeared in Jersey’s hand. He raced forward, swinging it in a violent circle, ready to cut Ian to ribbons. The woods were deathly silent. Not even the sound of the wind dared interrupt the oncoming duel between two great powers.
With a shout, unfamiliar words that were clearly in another language, Ian showed the palm of his hand to Jersey. It began to burn a bright orange.
Jersey continued to run at Ian, sword raised and ready.
A wave of power shot from the end of Ian’s hand. The area around Jersey rippled. Then something really weird happened. It was almost as if Jersey was a picture instead of a person. The entire area around him collapsed in on him like whipped cream folded into chocolate pudding. The light was eaten by the darkness. Jersey vanished.
Ian turned to Jack. “If you insist on playing games with Jersey Clifford, there’s nothing I can do to save you.”
“I didn’t ask him to bring
me here.”
Ian scratched his jaw, looking doubtful. “You must have done something. How else would he get the power to perform such a feat?”
“I may have brought him into a dream before… once, back when I didn’t know any better.”
“Naturally.”
“Why didn’t you try to burn him to death?”
“Even if the power could work on him, it wouldn’t work in a dream.”
Jack wanted to return to his bedroom. But first, there was something he had to know. Curiosity again, his biggest fault. “Do you want to finish what you were trying to say earlier?”
“Not especially.” Ian turned on him with dark, angry eyes. He gave in with a sigh. “Did you ever wonder why you remind me so much of my father, Jack?”
Jack shrugged.
“I’m not your uncle.” Ian’s jaw clenched for a second before he blew Jack’s world apart. “You are my son. John Creed was not your father. I am.”
“What are you saying?”
“You heard me. Do I need to say it again? I am your father, Jack.”
He’d watched the Star Wars movies at least a dozen times. Darth Vader’s voice filled his head, telling Luke that he was his father. The whole situation might have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it was true. Jack had forgotten dreaming about his mom, but now it returned with crystal clarity. His mom had tried to warn him in the dream about Ian being his father. He hadn’t wanted to remember. Now there was no escaping it.
*****
Chapter Sixteen:
BILLY’S HIDEOUT
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Jack returned to reality with the shocking revelation ringing in his ears. He bolted upright in bed, tangled in a sheet. He viciously kicked at the bedding until he managed to force it down to the bottom of the mattress. It stubbornly clung to his foot for a moment. His mind reeled with Ian’s confession. It didn’t make sense to him. How had it happened, and why hadn’t his mom told him while she was alive?
Ian’s body hit the floor when his spirit left the shell to join Jack in his dream. It took an extra few seconds for him to return from the dream world. Jack glared at the seemingly lifeless body. Ian’s eyes popped open. He sprang to his feet, his gaze bouncing around the room as though he expected to be attacked by Jersey. Seeing they were alone, Ian turned his wary gaze in Jack’s direction.
“Do you remember what just happened?” Ian asked.
“Well, I don’t have brain damage so I’m not likely to forget you saying you’re my father. My birth certificate clearly says the name of my father is John Creed and that’s what I’m sticking with.”
Ian sat on the edge of the chair. He took the time to straighten his jacket. He cleared his throat, obviously stalling. After doing everything he could think of to avoid it, he spoke. “The truth is I met your mother first, before she ever laid eyes on John. We fell in love, we got married, and we had two sons.”
“Two? You’re saying Billy is your son? You expect me to believe that load of crap?” Jack shook his head slowly, stunned. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not falling for it.”
“I am willing to take a DNA test. Like it or not, you are my son.”
Jack folded his arms across his chest in open defiance. Deep down he knew it was the truth, but he was going to fight it with his last breath. No way would he ever admit this man was his father. “Sure I am. So why was my mother married to John Creed? Why is it that I never heard either of them mention your name?”
“I couldn’t be a part of your life because of your biological grandfather.”
“Right. The crazy warlock.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I forgot about him.”
A grim smile overruled Ian’s face. “You mock the things I’ve told you because you don’t want to believe, but they are unfortunately true. If you will give me the time I need, allow me to fill you in on my background, on your background, you will understand why your mother and I were forced to make some difficult choices concerning you and your brother.”
Jack gestured for Ian to continue. “Please. Can’t wait to hear it.”
“I ran away from home when I was thirteen and never looked back,” Ian said. “In my childish naivety I thought my father had washed his hands of me. When I grew up, I thought it was safe to marry and have children. My father was told about us when you were roughly four years old. He hatched a plan to take you and Billy from me, mold you into his own image. When I heard about it, your mother and I decided to separate to protect you both.
“But that wasn’t enough to secure your safety, not with my father. I knew he could conjure a spell to find you no matter where I hid you. The only way to fool the spell was to have you live with a blood relative. Blood confuses the spell. John Creed was my half brother. He hated my father almost as much as I did. He eagerly agreed to marry your mother and raise you and Billy as his own.”
Jack shook his head again, mouth compressed in a tight line. “I don’t believe you.”
“Yes. You keep saying that.”
“I saw my mother and father together. They weren’t pretending to love each other. It was real. They were great together. You can’t fake a love like that.”
Ian laughed without humor. “It wasn’t part of the original plan for them to fall in love, no, but sometimes life happens while you aren’t paying attention. She was supposed to return to me once my father stopped looking. At least that’s what we told each other would happen. I tried to convince my father you were all killed in a horrible accident. He wasn’t buying it. Years passed, years without any contact between your mother and me. Eventually I couldn’t stand another lonely day and I picked up a phone. I called her long distance from a hovel in Manchester. She gave me the news. She’d fallen in love with John Creed. Their marriage was real. She was sorry.”
Jack remembered the way Ian stared at the photograph on the mantle, the sadness in his gaze. The grief had been about losing the love of his life, not about losing his half brother.
Ian jumped off the chair and walked around with hard, jerky steps. He threw his hands in the air and added, “She begged me to forget you and Billy, told me it was for your own good. What was I supposed to do? Fight for my kids? How could I do that with my bloodthirsty father on the loose?”
The odd way John Creed looked at Jack returned with startling clarity. There had been a few special times between them like when they’d rebuilt the Mustang, but mostly John had been a distant parent. Jack had blamed it on John’s own upbringing. He’d figured a man like John, tough guy that he was, didn’t believe in showing affection because it was a weak emotion.
What if John hadn’t felt connected with them because they hadn’t been his kids?
Ian returned to the bed, placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were growing up?”
Jack jerked away from the unwanted touch, stung by the lie he’d been living. “If any of this is true, then why are you here now? Aren’t Billy and I still in danger from this warlock?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ian shrugged.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“John Creed is gone. His blood is no longer a protective barrier. If your grandfather wants to find you, the spell will lead him straight here.”
Then what? He couldn’t take on Jersey Clifford yet. What was he supposed to do about a warlock with ten times the power Jersey had?
Ian added, “When Vanessa finally managed to track me down and told me what had happened, I knew nothing could keep me away. Admittedly, I didn’t know what I was going to do before I got here.”
“That’s why you pretended to be a new teacher, a stranger?”
“Precisely. I do apologize for the deception. After everything I heard about you, about the vampire thing, I was reluctant to get involved in your life. I wanted to despise you. However, as I got to know you I realized you are nothing like the crazy warlock who calls me his son. I’ve seen compassion in yo
u. You care about people. My father only cares about power.”
Jack decided to take the words as the highest compliment possible. While living as a vampire he’d heard dozens of stories about the warlock in question. The tales he’d heard about Ian’s lunatic father were scary beyond belief. He’d rather fight a hundred Jerseys than to have to face one evil warlock.
It was a lot to digest. Ian waited next to the bed, seemingly waiting for Jack to embrace the idea of him being his father. He was going to have a long wait. Jack wasn’t ready to embrace anything. He turned his head and gazed out the window. Sunlight filtered through the parted curtains. It was a brand new day, a new chance to straighten his life out.
“Would you like me to leave now?” Ian asked. “Your room, I mean. Not the house. I am going to stay here and protect you whether you like it or not. I won’t abandon you again.”
“What about Billy?” Jack glared at his ‘father.’ “You seem fine with abandoning him. He may be a werewolf right now, but it’s not his fault. None of it is. He’s a good person. You don’t know him. Don’t jump to conclusions about him the way you did about me. He isn’t like your father either, and I’m not going to rest until I have my brother back. You can count on it.”
Ian nodded. “As long as he stays out of my way, I won’t go looking for him. You have my word. However, if he attacks you again, I will do what I have to do to protect the one... normal son I have left.”
“Fair enough.”
Ian left, and Jack sat alone in his room for several minutes. He wondered where Silver was at and what she was doing. He needed her. Her very presence had an amazing calming effect on him. Where was she? Was she thinking of him?
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*****
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Girl talk.
Female laughter floated up through the open window a few minutes later, taunting his curious nature. Jack got out of bed slowly. The joints in his body were stiff from lack of movement. He stood next to the window and gazed down at the two girls below. Silver and Trina playfully shoved each other, giggling and talking like their fight hadn’t happened.