Forget Me Not (5 page)

Jax saunters down the hallway without looking back. Flat out ignoring us and sparking a growing irritation within me. We follow him through a wide, open doorway and into a large kitchen that smells of onions, fresh fruit, and cooking. A huge, heavy timber island marks the center of the room, and a robust woman stands at it dicing vegetables. She raises her head, and her round face splits into a smile. She wipes her pale, chubby hands on the lime apron fixed around her middle.

“Two extras tonight, Martha.” Jax steals a carrot from the pile.

She swipes the back of her hand across her creamy forehead. “Hey. That will come off your dinner plate.”

“The kitchen.” Jax flourishes the carrot through the air. “Our mediocre meals are prepared right here.”

“Get out of my kitchen, you ungrateful brat,” Martha says, a hint of jest in her motherly voice.

“Gladly.” He bites down on the carrot, shoves his free hand back in his pocket, and strolls out the door.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her mouth turns up in a friendly smile as she looks at me, then Will. “Welcome.”

Will looks over his shoulder as we leave. “Thanks.”

“We’re not staying long,” I say.

Jax uses the half-eaten carrot to point across the hall. “Dining room.” He points down the hall to a door on the left. “Library, next to that Beau’s office, and we started in the family room.” Several other closed doors don’t rate a mention.

We walk through a door at the end of the hallway. We stand on a wooden porch made up of row upon row of wooden planks sweeping around the entire exterior of the building. A dog with long, shaggy hair as black as his nose and a white stripe right down the center of his face runs around Jax. It’s the same dog as earlier, but now there’s no sign of the kid. The dog butts his head against Jax’s legs, demanding attention.

“Hi, Ace, how are you, boy?” Jax ruffles the dog’s ears, but he doesn’t hold Ace’s attention for long. His ears prick as his gaze falls on chickens pecking the ground near a huge vegetable garden. With a sharp yap, Ace runs off toward them.

Will chuckles, and Jax calls the dog back. 

The canine does as he’s bidden, almost bowling me over, but I sidestep out of his path just in time.

Jax nods toward a tiny outbuilding.  “Not much of interest out here. Laundry’s over there. It’s old fashioned, but it works.”

“We only have what we’re wearing.” I have no clothes, no hairbrush, no camera, nothing.

Will’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Guess you’ll start to smell pretty bad before long.” He chuckles.

I roll my eyes, and Jax continues his stroll, too cool to even acknowledge us. The entire time he’s showed us around it’s like he couldn’t give a damn. I don’t care though. Why should I? He heads toward a large outbuilding, and we follow him inside. Drawers and shelves holding an assortment of items line one whole wall. Vespa style scooters and an odd looking motorbike lean propped up against the far wall. It reminds me of Will’s workshop.

A tall, thin man with protective goggles over his eyes stands behind a bench, engrossed in what looks to be a leather armband with a deep red stone in its center. He presses the stone, and a bluish oval pops up in front of him. It has a transparent quality, almost like tinted torchlight.

“Whoa, that is seriously cool,” Will says.

The man looks up. His gaze flits over Will to me and settles on Jax. He slides his goggles up onto the top of his head, making his hair stand up in a spiked halo. “What’ve you got for me this time?”

Jax leans against the counter. “What if I said nothing?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” The man’s gaze moves from me to Will. “Jax Belfry is the best young Resistance defender, and he always gets their tech.” He smiles like they’re friends.

Jax looks at the ground and kicks a long, thick bolt. Ace yelps, chases after it, and runs back to drop it at Jax’s feet. “Whatever,” he says. “I picked this up today from the scout sent out for her tech.” He pulls the fake gas man’s yellow meter out of his pocket and tosses it to the man, who deftly catches it from the air.

“What is that?” I ask.

I may as well not have spoken. Jax strolls out the door without answering my question. Not even turning around, he says, “Later.”

I grab Will’s hand, a little too forcefully, angry at being ignored again. “Stop ogling the bike. We’re going.”

We rush to catch up, heading back inside to the sound of Ace whining at the front door. Jax moves down the wide hall and turns into a staircase with a polished timber banister leading up. My short legs struggle to keep up as he takes the stairs two at a time.

“Living quarters are up here. There are bedrooms and shared bathrooms.” Jax doesn’t look at us as he speaks. In the upstairs hall, he goes to the left, to the right, and takes so many turns I feel lost. We eventually stop outside a closed, white door at the end of the hall. Jax sweeps his hand through the air in a gesture for us to enter before him.

The room contains only the bare necessities. A small, single bed with a solid, wooden headboard and a handmade blanket of bright colors pulled tight over it. An ancient and rickety looking timber chair sits in the corner, and light flows into the room through a small window.

“You can take this room, William. If body odor worries you, bathroom’s three doors down on the left.” The shadow of a smirk shines through Jax’s indifferent expression. I turn away.

“Thanks.” Will doesn’t take the bait, just looks around the small room.

Jax’s glance meets mine. “Let’s go.”

We both follow him out of the room, but he holds his hand up in front of Will. “Not you.”

“What?”

“Stay here, make up your bed. I’ll collect you for dinner,” Jax says.

“Umm, no. I’m staying with Mae.”

“Her room is in the opposite wing. Stay put. We’ll be back.”

Will looks him up and down, but makes no move to step back. Jax turns away.

“I’ll be okay, Will.”

He runs his hand through his hair, pulling the blond strands away from his face. He leans toward me, then pulls back. For a brief second I think he’ll come with me, but he gives me a tight smile and a sharp nod.

Ahead, Jax turns to the right near the end of the hallway, and I jog to catch up. We come to a stop outside an identical white door. Jax holds it open, and I walk through.

This room is twice the size of the one where we just left Will. A double bed has a beautiful pink and white patchwork quilt topping it. Poor Will. His long legs will hang over the end of his bed while I’ll barely need half the space in this one. A dresser with a beveled mirror stands against the wall, and a large bay window dents outward, a bench seat with cushions inside it.

Turning to meet Jax’s gaze, I raise a brow. “Is this the luxury suite?”

“The rooms aren’t all the same.” He shrugs. “Besides, your smile’s prettier than his.” Once again, the hint of a smirk fleets across his features, and a tiny twinkle touches his eye.

My mouth is liquid. That smile, that twinkle. I swallow. Not now, he’d said. Well, now we’re alone, so he can answer the questions racing through my mind.

“The man, he tried to hurt me, and then you…
appeared. You smashed him, and then both of you vanished. How did you do it, appear, and then disappear? Why did you help me, and where did you take him?” The questions want to continue rolling out, but I cut them short. Does he know about my pendant? I don’t want it to be taken from me and given to the gadget guy we saw earlier. I don’t know or trust these people, this place, and especially not this arrogant guy.

He lifts his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug and looks at me with an unreadable expression.

Changing my stance to show him I’m serious, I say, “I deserve an explanation.”

“Stopping Collective Agents is my job, not saving damsels in distress.” He slides his hands back into his pockets and turns to leave.

“Wait,” I call, almost pleading. “Why are you being so rude? I was confused and now—can’t you at least reply when I talk to you?”

He turns and must see the desperation, the confusion in my face because he sighs and points to the seat in the window. I can feel him watching me while I sit down. He lowers himself onto it too, his leather-clad shoulder brushing against mine. His eyes widen briefly, then soften to resigned. Unusual reddish brown flecks speckle his deep green irises.

“A scout had you by the neck when I ported in. I removed the threat and left.”

“Ported?” I ask.

“Yeah, ported. Technology that transports a person across any distance.” He raises one shoulder in a lazy, lopsided shrug. “Instantly.”

“No way! You can teleport?” My brows shoot up.

“You could call it that.”

“I was so confused…
and you left.” Dizziness clouds my head. The feelings of confusion, disbelief, and fear rushing back like a wave to overwhelm me.

“I resolved the situation. You were safe.” For a brief moment I can see a glimpse of something like self-loathing cross his face.

“Safe?” The look on his face makes me glance away, over my shoulder and out the window. I can’t see where the dirt driveway joins the paved road. It just continues on, endless. Mountains jut up into the sky on the horizon. Between there and here are hills, trees, long grass, and nothing.

We’re in the middle of the country. I’m a long way from home.

When I look up, Jax stands in front of me, holding a scratchy-looking towel and a set of white sheets out in front of him like an offering. I frown. How did I not notice him move?

“There’s a bathroom next door. Freshen up. I’ll be back when the dinner bell rings.” He turns and strolls out of my room, leaving me alone.

After a long soak, I look at my reflection in the dresser mirror, run my fingers through my tangled wet hair, and sigh. I’m glad the ends curl when it’s damp. At least it looks tidy. I’m so much like Mom, but my hair, that’s all Dad. Same light brown, same slight wave.

My heart feels thick and heavy at the thought of Dad. He’ll be worried when I don’t turn up tonight. Beau better get word to him, but I don’t even know the man, so how can I be sure he’ll be true to his word? I can’t put Dad through a night of worry. It’ll shatter the only sanity he has left. Just like when Mom first disappeared. The sleepless nights, the stifled sobs, the endless blank daze. I just can’t do that to him.

A sharp, loud ringing like a percussion triangle pierces the silence, making me flinch. It must be the dinner bell.

A rap comes from my door, and Jax’s voice follows, “Dinner.”

I pull the door open. Will stands with Jax in the hallway. His hair hangs in damp clumps almost to his eyes. “Feel better?” he asks.

“Much.”

Jax strolls down the hall, and I fall into step beside Will. When we reach the dining room, a dozen or more people are seated around a long table. Another table meets it at the far end forming a T. Of all the people here, I haven’t even met half of them. The only ones I know are clumped together at the head of the huge table. Bertie’s hands flail animatedly through the air while she talks to Beau. Al sits quietly beside her. He looks up and gives me a slow smile. I return it, more comfortable knowing they’re still here.

The guy from the workshop sits alone at the far end of the long table, fiddling with a pair of glasses. I look around at the other people. There are a few women and men, some young children, amongst them the boy who played with Ace. So many strangers.

A girl waltzes through the door holding a gravy pitcher. Her long hair is slick, straight, brown-black, and pulled into a messy ponytail. Martha, the cook, follows behind her and squeezes herself into a seat beside Beau, who nods a hello to us. “Are your rooms okay?” he asks. “Did Jax get you what you need?”

“Fine, thank you,” I tell him.

“Good. See me in the morning and we’ll discuss your options.” Beau turns back to his conversation with Bertie, who never stopped talking, oblivious to briefly losing his attention.

Will and I follow Jax to the far end of the table. He gestures for us to sit near the workshop guy, who shoves the glasses on, making his eyes look buglike. He smiles at us while we sit. “I’m Marcus.”

“Anamae and Will.”

“Are you two a couple?” He gestures with his mashed potato laden fork.

“A couple?” I drop my head and smile. “Um, no.”

“Oh,” Marcus says.

Jax seems almost oblivious to our conversation.

Funny, I’ve never really thought of Will as boyfriend material, except maybe briefly in the eighth grade when he kissed me. He’d caught me sitting on my bed with my lips smacked against a handheld mirror, practicing kissing. It’s what they do in movies, so I thought I’d try it. He laughed and teased me so much, I threw the mirror right at him, and he caught it. Lucky, or I’d have ended up with seven years of bad luck. Then he sat opposite me, still laughing, and darted in to kiss me. It was fast, wet, and really awkward. I bit his lip accidentally when our teeth clashed. He said if I ever wanted to practice again he’d be up for the challenge, but his eyes held his trademark tormenting shine. Utterly humiliated, I never kissed him, or a mirror, again. He still brings it up every now and then.