The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  “Why did you hold my hand yesterday morning?”

  She searched his face and found only open curiosity. It was the very last subject she thought he’d bring up. She stared back at him wide-eyed, frozen within the grip of uncertainty and embarrassment. “W-what?”

  How is it possible he can make me feel like a love-struck tween in the blink of an eye?

  “Yesterday morning when Joaquin was going to tell us what was going on, you held my hand as we walked from the bed to the fire pit. You continued to do so for a while longer. Why did you do that?” His voice was soft and questioning.

  She could hear no malcontent in his tone. She sat up a bit straighter, taking a deeper draught of air and slowly exhaled it. She straightened her hair, tucking it behind her ears, looking back at him. “Truthfully, Anthony, I don’t know the whole reason why. I do know I was scared of what Joaquin was going to tell us, scared of being here in the Melded World. It seemed like knowing the truth would be awful. I don’t know. I guess I needed someone to reassure me and you seemed like a good choice.” She glanced away, peering downward, a lock of her white hair falling free from her earlobe and obscuring part of her face from him.

  “Why me, though?”

  She jilted her head to clear her hair from her visage, titling up to see him out of the corner of her eyes. “Why you?” Her voice cracked. She felt her face flush.

  He nodded.

  She breathed.

  “From the very first time we met, you made me feel comfortable; maybe feel safer as well. You have a calming way about you, Anthony. I really needed it. I guess I’ve sort of gravitated toward you ever since. Holding your hand yesterday gave me a sense of where the ground was, so I wouldn’t have to think about anything other than what Joaquin was going to say. Otherwise, I probably would’ve fallen to the floor and made a complete idiot of myself.” She bounced with a stricken chuckle. “And the funny thing is I am typically not that way, you now? I am usually as steady as a rock, or at least I think I am. I never ask for help, emotional or otherwise. I just plow on, hope for the best, and don’t look back.”

  He inclined his head thoughtfully. “Why the change, you think?”

  She folded her hands in her lap after rubbing them across the tops of her jeans, leaning forward slightly. “It’s been way too much. All of this.” She motioned to the cave. “Even back at home, before the Rending, weird ass things were happening that whole week. I was pretty freaked me out. I was just barely able to get a grip on all of that crap and then the whole world went bananas, and… well, I guess I just needed someone. For the first time in my life, I needed someone. There you were and before I could really puzzle it out, you were there and I went…,” she trailed off, feeling the self-consciousness return. She cleared her throat instead of continuing.

  She realized he was frowning when he asked, “What weird stuff?”

  She sighed with relief he hadn’t caught onto the deeper connotations of what she’d said. “Oh, I don’t know, it really doesn’t matter now,” she answered with a wave of her hand.

  “Come on, give over, what happened?” He was serious again.

  “It’s kinda embarrassing and creepy at the same time,” she explained quietly, her voice lowering. This was the subject she didn’t like to talk about, openly at least.

  “Kinda personal, too?” he added.

  Am I that easy to read?!? she asked herself, stunned he could be that in tune with what she was feeling already. “Very personal,” she said aloud.

  “Well, you don’t have to -,” he began.

  But, she cut him off, tired of being the little frail, white girl who cannot take care of herself. This is not who I am! “I had this guy stalking me for months,” she blurted out.

  Anthony’s eyes widening as the words sunk in, mouthing a silent “Oooooh.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. He used to follow me everywhere. Even when I was with my friends, he would just butt into the conversation like he belonged or something. He would try to bump into me casually on campus or on my way home to talk to me. He even did some research on me and got my cell number. He would call me all the time, morning and night, sometimes real late at night, breathing words into the phone like he was getting off or something. Yet, what he said was always so weird. The more I thought about it, the more I was certain it didn’t quite seem like he was saying things to whack off to. I mean it did, on one level, but there was something more, something non-sexual. It was so eerie, he made my skin crawl. He was always talking about how he wanted to stroke the back of my hand or brush my hair while counting to seventy-five or help me fold my clothes as they came out of the dryer – just really crazy things like that.” She paused to take a breath, watching as Anthony shook off the images she was portraying.

  His expression was pained.

  “Then, just last week,” she began anew, running a hand through her hair, her voice rippling with tension, “he and I had a huge argument… Well, I did most of the yelling. He sort of cringed against the wall come to think of it… Jeez, it happened just a week from yesterday,” she calculated, blinking with the realization. “It seems like an age ago, so much has happened since.”

  She drifted off into a silence that Anthony did not disturb.

  “Anyway, where was I?” she asked, rubbing at her temples.

  “The argument,” Anthony offered. His face was still troubled at her plight.

  “Oh yeah, thanks,” she inhaled and exhaled forcibly. “Anyway, I went off on him and finally spelled it out for him. I told him I didn’t want to see or hear or talk to him again. I think I was literally screaming at the top of my lungs, not a pretty sight let me tell you.” A wry chuckle escaped her. “So, I think everything is cool, right? He doesn’t call me that night, etc., etc. So, I’m finally able to concentrate on getting this research paper done - everything was good. Until the next morning, my friend calls me and tells me to turn on the TV. I do, and what do I find out?”

  Anthony shrugged for her to keep talking.

  “Apparently, this dude was on his way to my house with some rope, duck-tape, even a butcher knife, but he - .”

  “…never made it,” interrupted Anthony by finishing her sentence.

  “Yeah, how did you know?” she implored earnestly.

  “I saw it on the news as well,” he retorted quietly.

  “Yeah, he got chewed up by some animal or something on his way to kidnap me, probably with the intention of raping me or… or s-s-something,” she couldn’t help it. The tears came of their own volition, her sobs coming from deep in the center of her chest. All of it was too much - the icky feelings about James, her abduction to the Melded World, the fear, plus the sense of foreboding she couldn’t shake.

  Anthony! Yes, Anthony, the mysterious, lanky boy she’d met a few days ago. He was the boy on the verge of stealing her heart. Oh why-o-why, do I like him?

  “James Henley, Jr.,” said Anthony, uttering the boy’s name with distain as he reached out and placed one of his hands on her knee.

  She didn’t hesitate and placed one of hers atop his. Her fingers snaked around the back of his downturned palm, determined not to let go. “Yes,” was all she could manage as she let the sorrow run its course.

  He stayed silent as she cried, periodically squeezing her leg, letting her know he was there for her, making her feel better, filling her heart. She held onto him tightly, digging her fingers into the sides of his much larger hand.

  “Do you have any idea what might’ve done that to him?” he asked all of a sudden.

  “No,” she replied, wiping at her eyes with her free hand as her weeping began to subside.

  “I do.”

  It was a simple statement, but it brought her up short. She stared at him through tear-filled eyes, shock in her expression. “Who?”

  “It’s more of a what,” countered Anthony. Without thinking, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he brushed the hair away from her face with his free hand.

  She
thought for a time, breathing slowly under his light touch. Then, she said aghast, “Are you serious?”

  “Yup.”

  “Jätung?” she supplied her voice fraught with skepticism.

  “I always figured Fenris had us all scoped out from the very beginning. Now that I know who James Henley was and what was his intent, it all makes sense,” said the boy, trying to define the picture forming in his mind.

  “But why would Jätung - .”

  Again, he interrupted her, “…because they need you here, Sophie. I overheard Fenris yell at one of his cronies – just before he killed him actually - that we were to be delivered to the Lord of the Storm unharmed, so he could visit all sorts of pain and cruelty upon us at his leisure.”

  “Oh God that sounds gruesome,” she surmised. “How ironic it is to think that James was murdered in order to save me for an even worse fate.”

  “You shouldn’t worry too much over James, Sophie. I’m sorry to say it, but he was going to rape you and most likely inflict more on you than was done to him. From what they said on the news he died quickly. Jätung’s poisonous bite had acted fast.” He had turned the hand on her knee over and was now holding her hand within his. He placed his other over the back of hers, clasping it within his grip. “You shouldn’t feel guilty in any way. James wouldn’t have finished with you quickly. It would’ve been long and terrible, and disgusting.”

  Sophie nodded as more tears began to fall from her eyes.

  “Feel guilty about what?” came the question from behind Anthony’s shoulder.

  They both turned and saw Jason and Andrew, walking toward them from the washing area. She’d been intent on talking with Anthony.

  She hadn’t heard them get up, even when they dressed and washed themselves. Quickly, she wiped at her eyes and tried to compose herself.

  “It’s not my question to answer,” said Anthony acknowledging the query, gesturing toward her.

  “Ah,” said Andrew with a dip of his head as he flopped himself down on the floor at the end of the log they were sitting, on Anthony’s side.

  Jason ducked his head toward her as well and sat on the adjacent log, on the far side of Andrew. Neither of them seemed to have any inkling of pursuing the topic.

  She was grateful for their tact.

  A silence, interrupted only by the crackle and fizz of the fire, stretched. Sophie realized Garfield was ambling about the cave, sniffing here and there, making his way over toward Kenai who appeared to be asleep toward the entrance of the cave.

  “You think we should build up the fire and get things started?” asked Andrew out of the blue, which made Anthony chortle.

  He picked up Sophie’s hand in between his and slowly brought it to his mouth and kissed it softly. The action brought her closer to him. “I will always be here to help, Sophie, you can count on me. I promise,” he whispered to her.

  She felt all of her insides flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. He was magnetic. She was reacting to his every move.

  He released her hand and turned toward his friend as if nothing had happened.

  “Let me guess, Drew, you’re hungry.”

  “Hell yeah, dude! Yoooo tango hombre, home-boy,” was the others’ response.

  Anthony laughed and Jason smiled.

  She sat there for a second or two, trying to quell the palpitations in her chest, staring at the back of Anthony’s head, her eyes dancing over his long, wavy hair. She had never wanted to kiss someone as much as she wanted to kiss him at that moment.

  At the same time, she wondered why she’d even bothered to asked those questions dancing in her head earlier. She knew the answers already. There would be no second guessing.

  Who would ever believe such a miracle was possible in the Melded World.

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 71 ~

  It’s Like Peeling an Onion

  Day Three, Saturday, 7:29 am…

  He peered at her out of the corner of his eye, only half-listened to the by-play between Anthony and Andrew, most of his attention focused on the white-haired beauty as she ran her fingers through her hair. She was looking at the back of Anthony’s head. Her eyes were opened wider than normal. He could see her hands clenched and unclench as if she wanted to reach out and grab the kid. He noticed she was biting her lower lip with the teeth of her upper jaw. He raised his eyebrows.

  She inhaled slowly, but deeply, her chest rising with it, making her breasts swell against the fabric of her sweater.

  Whoa, whoa, Sophie, calm down, he thought, not quite sure what was going on inside her head. She had a kind of predatory look about her, which confused him. He couldn’t place it. It was an expression he had yet to see directed at him. It was startling to see the rawness of it, the earnestness. She was at the ready, waiting for one sign before she moved. It was difficult to imagine something so instinctual emanating from one of the smartest girls he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Had he not known she was a straight-laced, honor student, he would’ve mistaken her for one of those avaricious girls known to roam the schoolyard. For Sophie to openly covet, so wantonly, as plain as day, was breathtaking. The air he breathed was stuck in his chest.

  He swore he heard three ticks of a non-existent Grandfather Clock.

  Jason Fong watched her compose herself, seeing a torrent of contradictory emotions frothing to the surface, out of the depths of her irises. He witnessed as they sank to the bottom of her endless blue orbs. Methodically, she mastered herself, brought herself back under control. He knew there was a lot going on inside her mind and all of it revolved around the tall, slender boy she was sitting beside.

  Abruptly, she stood, rubbing her hand on her thighs and exhaled loudly. “Well, if Andrew is hungry, that means the rest of you will be shortly, so let me go and see what I can whip up for you lovely gentlemen. Any requests?” She glanced at each of them.

  Jason could tell the others really didn’t care what she made as long as it was hot and was edible. All three of them shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads as her gaze fell upon them individually.

  “You boys are easy!” she said with a little too much enthusiasm and walked off quickly, clearly wanting to get away.

  The three of them looked after her swaying, retreating form as she made her way to the food carts and began rummaging through the various breakfast items they’d gathered from Vons. She muttered to herself, her brow furling with thoughts Jason was fairly certain didn’t involve breakfast.

  “I’m gonna put some more wood on the fire,” intoned Andrew. He bounded to his feet and made for the woodpile at the back of the cave.

  Jason gazed after him for a moment, then turned his attention back toward Anthony. He wasn’t surprised to find the other teenager was still peering through the dimly lit chamber at Sophie. The stone-cold fox was meticulously planning their morning meal. Anthony’s face was serious, his eyes piercing across the distance between him and the girl. Jason knew there just as many thoughts and desires going through his head as there were coursing about Sophie’s moments before.

  “You don’t have to worry. You know that don’t you?” Jason spoke stating what he felt was fact.

  “Worry about what?” inquired Anthony, though he didn’t look back in his direction. He had eyes only for the girl.

  “About her, of course, whodoya think I was talking about? Sophie. You don’t have to worry about Sophie, not in the least,” he explained for a second time, trying not to let any humor seep into his tone. He was telling the truth, after all, even if it made him want to chortle, but he wanted to get his point across. He had to be serious, though it was still somewhat funny the other boy couldn’t see what was so plainly visible to him.

  Anthony let his gaze fall and turned his head to look at Jason, scowling in confusion. “What are you talking about, Jason?” he asked pointedly.

  Jason sighed, a small chuckle gurgling. “I am merely attempting to point out the obvious that’s all. If you
are worried about whether or not she likes you, I am telling you, you don’t have too. It has been pretty easy to see from the moment she met you out in the meadow three days ago, she liked you. Since then, I think she likes you a whole lot more.” He raised his own eyebrows to emphasize his point.

  “Come on, dude, stop it,” interposed Anthony with a contrite shake of his head.

  “I’m not messing around with you, if that’s what you think. I can tell by the way she looks at you, dude, she’s into you. With every passing day, I think the ‘like’ is deepening into something more. I mean, I’m no expert, but she has you on her mind a whole lot.”

  Anthony didn’t respond, but let his gaze wonder back over toward the girl as she poured ground coffee into a tin coffee pot. Her fingers moved deftly as she went about the various morning tasks.

  “She’s just scared that’s all,” said the other boy after a time, reaching back to adjust the elastic band holding his hair in a loose ponytail at the back of his head. “She says I make her feel safe. Apparently, I make her calm when she wants to freak out over something. That’s all, dude, she used those exact words when I asked her.” He finished with his hair and clasped his hands over his knees, leaning forward slightly as he did so. His fingers tapped restlessly.

  “We’re all scared, Anthony. On varying levels, but we’re all scared. This place has a way of making us feel unsettled, because we don’t belong here. That in itself is nerve wracking, but I’m not talking about that crap.” He pointed at Sophie. “She likes you. There is no denying it, especially when you see the way she looks at you.

  “Yeah, she’s scared and, yeah, you make her feel comfortable, but there’s more to it than that. I think those feelings are just as confusing to her as is the notion of her liking you is just as hard for you to believe.”