Waken (The Woods of Everod Book 1)

by Angela Fristoe

  I must have laid there for over an hour before the pain was gone. Justin had come in and, after one look at me, gone straight to his room. I arched my back and heard it give a couple pops, then stood up and made my way to my bedroom. Tim always said that a good night’s dream would cure anything. I wonder what he would say if he knew my dreams were really nightmares and what I really needed was to escape from them, not to them.

  Chapter 3

  The sweet notes of Brahms’s Lullaby drift across the gentle waves. Sunlight hits the rocky sand, creating a shore of black diamonds, blinding me to the absoluteness of what was to come. Trepidation tosses around inside me. I’ve been here before. Countless times I had stood, gazing intently at the woman approaching me. My mother. She wears a shimmering black gown, almost blending into the diamond beach. Her hair spirals down her back in a riot of curls. Her beauty is overwhelming. Her soft smile enthralls me.

  Every time I stand there waiting for her to come to me, I try to move. Whether to her or away from her, I don’t know, but I am frozen in place. It is always the same. Futile to fight it, but I do.

  Finally, she is before me and she runs her cold fingers down my face, coming to rest on my chest. There is wrenching pain. She draws her hand back. In her palm lay my heart, still beating. She twists around and places it in the mouth of a white wolf that appears at her side.

  Gone is the loving mask meant to deceive me, in its place is the hideous face of my true mother. “I wish I’d done it sooner,” she says.

  I try to speak, to beg her to love me, to say that she doesn’t really mean it, but my voice is powerless, silent in the midst of my anguish. She wraps her hands around my neck, squeezing firmly, intent on my death. I open my mouth to scream. The only sound to fill the space is the howl of a wolf.

  Bolting upright, a scream lodged in my throat. The shuddering gasps I pulled in had my body quivering. I flicked on the bedside lamp and ran a hand across my face, feeling the tears staining my cheeks.

  It had been two months since the last dream if I didn’t count the hallucination from the other day. Feelings of being powerless, unloved, and terrified, coiled within me as strong as they had after the first time I’d had one.

  Tim didn’t know the specifics of them, just that they were distressing. There had been no way to hide the cries that erupted from me, or the fact that for months I fought off sleep. I couldn’t talk about them with Tim. We never discussed Elin, which was another reason I couldn’t tell him about the vision. Not that it was a real vision. It had been a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation or dehydration or something. Heck, it could have been some repressed memory for all I knew.

  Flopping back onto my feather pillow, I looked at my alarm clock. Seven forty-three. I silently cursed Tim’s summer rule of no sleeping past eight. Going back to sleep would just make it harder to wake up when the alarm went off. I rolled out of bed and lumbered down the hall to the kitchen, went straight for the coffee and filled a cup halfway. I sat across from Justin, inhaling the scent of the coffee. It was about all I did with it. The idea of actually drinking it didn’t appeal to me, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee was amazing.

  “You do know that this whole friendship thing isn’t a one day shot, right? You have to be actual friends with her.” Justin swished his juice around in the glass.

  “Changing the rules already?” I asked.

  “You need to meet her more than once to actually be friends.” His smile turned up wickedly. “You can come to lunch with us.”

  I knew he expected me to say no.

  “All right.” My smile matched his. “And don’t forget, you’re taking me shopping this weekend. Maybe I’ll ask Rachel to come along.” Having him chauffeur me around was going to work out nicely.

  Trail’s End diner was down the street and just round the corner from the library. I was determined not to let on how terrified I was. Would Rachel be as nice as she was yesterday? Would Tristan be there?

  Rounding the corner, I hit a familiar wall.

  “Okay, that was totally not my fault this time,” Rachel said, steadying herself along the wooden siding of the diner.

  I mumbled an apology and looked around. Justin was right behind me. Tristan was nowhere in sight.

  “Who’re you looking for?” she asked.

  “No one,” I said, not wanting to tell her about the bet or about my fascination with Tristan. “I was just heading inside.”

  “Me too,” she said with a smile. “Come on. We can sit together.” She looped her arm through mine, ignoring my slight flinch.

  We walked into the diner together with Rachel continuing to talk, even as she waved at some friends and then as she lead me to a booth at the back. I’d never known someone who talked as much as she did, although it was nice to just sit and not be expected to say anything other than the occasional one word answer.

  “You don’t have to take pity on me, you know,” I said during a brief pause in her fantasies of fame and fortune as an Academy Award winning actress.

  “I know,” she said. “But you’re interesting, Janie, and I don’t think anybody realized we had new blood in Everod. Well, apart from Justin.”

  New blood, more like fresh meat. The way everyone eyed me reminded me of a pack of wild animals circling wounded prey. Some watched with curiosity and amusement. But there were more than a few that watched suspiciously, as though waiting for me to slip up so they could pounce.

  Despite Rachel’s best efforts, Tristan filled my thoughts. He wasn’t the hottest guy I’d ever seen, but so far he was the only one that caused me to break out in tingles just at the sight of him. There was a yearning still lingering in my fingers that wanted to run my fingers through his hair. Was there anything to him other than a gorgeous face? Maybe my interest would disappear when he opened his mouth.

  A loud snap jerked me back to reality. Rachel waved her hand in front of my face. “Girl, what is with you? Are you always this spacey?”

  “Nothing, I just...” My cheeks heated as she gave me a knowing look.

  “Oh my God! Who is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Come on, Janie.” She rolled her eyes. “Anytime a girl goes all dreamy-eyed it’s gotta be a guy. So, who is it?” She glanced across the diner. “Is it Seth? He was kinda heroic yesterday jumping in between you and the wolf, almost enough to make up for the faux-hawk. Or is it Bryce? He’s the guy with the crew cut sitting next to Seth.” She leaned across the table eagerly waiting for me to answer.

  “No! And no!”

  “It’s not Kyle is it? The guy next to Justin. He’s already got a girlfriend,” she said.

  I forced a laugh. “No. I was just thinking about...” My mind blanked. What could I say to change the conversation? “About my parents.”

  “Your parents?”

  “My real parents, I mean.” Crap. I should have just told her that while driving over here I’d been fantasizing about what Tristan would look like with his shirt off. “Tim is my stepdad and he’s great, but sometimes I...” I shrugged my shoulders unsure of what I actually did think when they came to mind.

  “Where are they?”

  What could – should I say?

  “Elin, my mom, travels a lot and we don’t talk…”

  You’re just like your father, pathetic.

  “I really don’t even care where she is.” I stared out the window behind her, avoiding the pity I knew would be there.

  “Does she know where you live?”

  I hate you!

  “Probably not.” The sunlight hit my eyes and pain ripped through them, but I didn’t glance away.

  You’re useless to me.

  “But what if she wanted to see you?”

  I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.

  “She wouldn’t and if she did, there’s no way she’d come here. My mom used to live here.” I blinked my dry eyes and shifted them away from the harsh light. Rachel stopped fiddling with her spoon, stilling t
he light tapping of it against the rim of the glass.

  “She hated this town and the people here. As for my dad, I don’t remember him. He left when I was five. I have no clue where he lives. I don’t even know his name.”

  If you leave, I’ll kill her.

  Rachel looked wide-eyed in shock. She was listening intently, hanging onto every word. “How can you not know your father’s name?”

  Bastard! I’ll kill her!

  “My mom didn’t put it on my birth certificate. I don’t think they were ever married and she refused to talk about him after he left. I guess I just erased him from my memory.” I shrugged impassively. “Why think about him? He didn’t think of me.”

  “You can’t remember him at all?” Rachel stared intently at me.

  “Well, I know he lived here, too.” I scrunched my eyes, concentrating on the distant memory I had of him. “He was tall and muscular with a huge tattoo on his back. He had short brown hair and drove a cherry red pickup truck.”

  Her face was a frozen mask as she leaned further across the table and motioned for me to do the same.

  “I wouldn’t tell anyone else about your mom and dad,” she whispered.

  I pulled back in surprise. “What? Why not?”

  “There’s been some bad blood around town and when people leave, like your parents, and don’t come back, well they must have done something pretty bad.”

  I didn’t have a clue what the hell she was talking about, but it wasn’t as if I would talk to anyone else about them anyway. I couldn’t even believe I’d told her, so I nodded. “Sure, whatever.”

  “I’m serious, Janie.” Panic vibrated through her words.

  “I’m only going to be here till the end of summer anyways then I’m moving back to Dallas.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, a sigh of relief escaping her. “I would just hate to see you get hurt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, really I was just teasing.”

  She forced a smile. I wanted to believe her. I really did. But there was something in her eyes. The friendship she had offered me the previous day and even minutes ago was replaced with something darker. She was lying, but why?

  She didn’t ask any more questions, just started shoveling food into her mouth, all the while her eyes darted back and forth between me and the other diners. She wiped her mouth then throwing her napkin on her plate. “Hey, I’ll catch you later, ‘kay?”

  She scooted out of the booth and went to join her friends. I stayed in my seat for a few minutes trying to figure out what had happened. Her mood had shifted so quickly. Giving up on trying to understand her, I made my way back to the library to wait for Justin to finish his breakfast.

  I dropped my books off at the checkout counter and went to my usual corner. Rachel drifted to the back of my mind, drowned out by the memory of Tristan watching my frantic run through the library. Would he show up there again? I shook my head. I didn’t even know why I let him dominate my thoughts. It wasn’t like I’d ever have a chance with a guy like him.

  Resting my head against the wall, I opened another random book from the shelf. I read the first page again and then again. On the fourth try, I slammed it shut. The words were a flurry of black specks on the page inconsequential to the path my mind was wandering. I stood and placed it back in its space, giving up any pretense of reading, and gazed through the shelves into the vast emptiness of the library.

  I should go out. He wasn’t going to show up here. No one was going to show up here. If I really wanted friends, I’d have to leave the library. They’d all be out there, not hiding like me. That’s what people did, they socialized, they acted normal.

  Sinking back down to the floor, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my forehead on my knees. My eyes closed and I relived the moment I first saw Tristan. A groan escaped and I opened my eyes as my head thumped back against the wall. I was lusting after a completely unattainable guy who probably thought it was funny seeing me get all flustered. He could be a total prick for all I knew.

  A glimpse of a set of stairs in the far north corner caught my attention and I wandered over. Despite all of my time spent here, I hadn’t really explored beyond the general fiction aisle. On the wall next to the stairs, a sign read Records, Archives, and Media Center. There was no restricted sign posted, but I glanced over my shoulder and began tiptoeing down the stairs. Ms. Markov huddled over the computer scanning books, entirely oblivious to my presence. A hallway lined with photographs lead to two other doors. With little interest in the pictures, I pushed open the door to the archives room.

  There was nothing in there. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Empty shelves filled the room. I moved further in and noticed a bookstand in the front of the room with a thick leather bound book sitting closed on its surface. Pulled forward by helpless curiosity, I stepped up to the book and lightly ran my fingers across the cover. There were no words, no names, simply an engraving of a wolf caught within a triangle. The details reminded me of a more detailed version of the wolf necklace still hidden under my bed.

  Carefully lifting the cover, I turned page after page of chemical formulas. I flipped the pages quicker hoping to find some kind of explanation, but there was nothing. Near the end, there was a photograph of a wolf, though it looked strange somehow. I leaned closer trying to figure out what it was that seemed off. The eyes. Someone must have digitally transposed human eyes onto the picture. As I shut the book, a small piece of paper fluttered out from between pages I must have skipped. It drifted to the floor and I reached down to pick it up. The words were written in pencil that had faded over the years, and the faint scrawling print was difficult to read.

  Marked by the wolf

  A daughter of Amelia

  Spilling of her blood

  Infected will be free

  Chapter 4

  I placed the page back in the book. What kind of library devotes an entire room to one book? My hand brushed the cover of the book and dusty air filled my lungs and I let out a massive sneeze. Slipping into the hall, I turned to quietly shut the door behind me.

  “Can I help you, dear?”

  I jumped, spinning around at the soft voice. Ms. Markov glared at me, her pale green eyes shooting ice crystals. She was pissed.

  “I...I was just looking for the media center,” I said, noticing the sign mounted on the wall above Ms. Markov’s head.

  She cocked her eyebrow. “Well, you are on the wrong side of the hall, young lady.”

  She motioned to the other door, waiting for me to move across the hall. She looked in her mid-forties, but something about her made you think she was older. I pushed through the media room door, glancing back to see her watching me. I walked in and let the door swing shut behind me.

  The front of the room was packed with shelves of CDs and DVDs. I wound my way between them and further into the room. In the center sat a baby grand piano, its black surface coated with dust. A pile of boxes sat under it labeled with the name Helena.

  A mesh of conflicting emotions - anticipation and apprehension, comfort and anxiety - twisted inside of me. Music had been Elin’s passion and as a gullible child I’d thought by learning to play, I would become a part of her life. She refused to pay for lessons.

  You’re not worth the money it would cost.

  I spent hours teaching myself and loved playing, but for my own sanity, I had given it up. I wasn’t willing let it consume me as it had her. Still, I gravitated toward the baby grand, helpless against its magnetic pull. Running a finger through the thick layer of dust, my hand trembled. A streak of gleaming black shone through and my eyes stared back at me a dark green with a ring of burnt orange blazing around the pupil. I swiped another line of dust away, then another, revealing more of my distorted image.

  In that reflection, I thought I could see the real me. Not the plain, extra ordinary girl that I presented to the world, but the fragmented pieces floating around in a confined space, unsure of how they al
l fit together. From the moment Elin walked out the front door, I’d felt as if I couldn’t put myself together.

  What was wrong with me? Why had my own parents found it so easy to turn their backs on me? Logically, I knew that despite what Elin had said, I wasn’t the reason she or my father left, but deep inside I also knew that I wasn’t reason enough for them to stay.

  I pulled out the bench and perched myself on the edge. I hadn’t played in almost two years, but at that moment, I needed to. I needed to exorcise her from my mind, my soul. Just once and maybe, I could be free.

  My hands shook as I lifted them into place and I ran a couple of scales to loosen up. A little rusty, but the smooth ivory relaxed me. I knew what I would play. There was no need for sheets. This was the song she left inside of me after fourteen years of torturing me, condemning me, and eventually abandoned me.

  My eyes closed as I began. Only once before had I played this song; two years ago when Elin had briefly walked back into our lives. She brought hope to Tim, but to me she brought more nightmares.

  The song was beautiful on the surface, its notes piercing and clear, but to the careful listener there was a hollowness to it. Missing was the loving emotion between the notes and performer. I hated this song more than I hated her, because in this song I was a victim, I was helpless and hurt. When I reached the end, my hands closed compulsively. My fingers longed to keep playing, but there was nothing left inside of me.

  A cough from the doorway brought me around. Tristan stood in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. His voice was thick velvet, smooth and warm.

  “No! No... I was just… I…” I faltered then stopped. Get a grip, girl. Hadn’t I been wishing to see him? For him to see that maybe I was worth the effort to talk to? And still I’m a stammering idiot?

  “I heard the piano. Was that you?”

  “Umm, yeah. I just…I was just playing around.”