The Waking (The Upturned Hourglass) (14 page)

Shane rose quickly from her seat on the curb and grabbed Jack’s shoulders firmly and stopped him in his tracks. Noah edged away from the tree he had been leaning against.

“Are you nuts?” Shane whispered vehemently. “Well, okay, we know you are. You changed right in front of her! But Jack, if you’re right, and she
is
Isaac’s daughter, then Isaac will have no choice but to kill us along with her, just because we
know.
”

“
Or,
we can just go along with him like we always have,” Jack offered, somewhat reluctantly. “We would stay a pack. The girl can’t discern what the reality is from her own imagination. I think we could play off of that.”

Shane let go of his shoulders. “You’re serious.”

Jack shook his head in despair, throwing up his hands.  “I don’t know, Shane! What would you have me do?”  He looked over at the silent, pale-faced boy beside him. “Or you, Noah. What should I do?”

“
We
,” said Noah. “What should
we
do.”

Jack clenched his jaw tight and looked beyond the window. Valie’s head was still visible just above the sofa.

The idea of dragging Shane and Noah into any danger with him was the real source of Jack’s indecision. It would be easy enough to tell them both to say nothing and simply walk away—plead the Fifth and deny everything. But what about the girl in that house?  Somehow, he felt responsible for her. Why—he didn’t know, but he couldn’t sit by and let her die.

In a moment of insight, Jack knew that he would have to protect Valie with his life. He groaned softly.

“Why so blue, cub?”

Eliza’s shapely form came out of the trees, her red hair shiny from the damp air, her blackish eyes even darker in the night. The two werewolves had sneaked in behind Shane and Noah; Terrence had both of their mouths covered with his massive hands. It was obvious that they had both just morphed back into their human forms. He chuckled as Jack belatedly took up his guard and eyed Terrence warily. Terrence and Eliza might be pack-mates, but they were no friends of Jack’s.

“Not paying much attention, are you, Jackie?” Terrence chided sarcastically in his rumbling voice. “Now how would Isaac like it if he knew you were so negligent? He
is
trusting you three with this next Mark.”

You mean his next kill,
Jack thought. He growled viciously, “Let them go, Terrence.”

With a skeptical eye and a dismissive laugh, the massive man released hold on Shane and Noah and whirled away.

“Just giving you a hard time, Jackie.”

“As always,” Jack replied coldly.

Terrence merely smirked, uninterested in Jack’s foul mood.

“Enough with the games,” Eliza declared. “Is the Mark in there?” she asked and looked toward the house. Valie was moving around the room and for a brief instant stood directly in front of the window. There was enough light thrown from the fireplace to see her bedraggled state. Eliza voiced the thoughts of them all, “She doesn’t look like much.”

Jack exhaled slowly trying to gain his composure—and some time to think. 

“She
isn’t
much so far. At least, not that we can see. Do you two know why Isaac chose her?”

“Do we know why Isaac chooses
anybody
?” Eliza replied, eyeing Jack with scorn. He didn’t flinch at the obvious jab.

“Maybe we should just let this one go?” Shane suggested with more enthusiasm than she should have. “Her life seems to kinda suck already . . . .”

Jack shot her a warning glance, his blue eyes ablaze. It made Shane avert her own eyes to the ground.

Eliza cackled wickedly,
then stared hard at the young she-wolf.  She spoke directly to Shane, who would not meet her gaze, “Well, then, she doesn’t have a whole lot to lose, now does she?”

Another rumbling growl welled up in Jack’s chest, but he quelled it for fear of piquing further unwanted interest. He turned away and said simply, “Back off, Eliza.”

Shane glanced up momentarily and mouthed the word ‘sorry’.  Jack just nodded and shot Noah a warning look, but the young werewolf was thoughtfully studying his pack-mates. 

“Why are you two here anyway?” Jack inquired.

Eliza snorted. “Like it’s any of your business.”

“That depends—am I a part of this pack or not?”

Jack realized he himself didn’t know the answer to that question anymore.

Terrence glanced at Eliza as she tensed at Jack’s attitude. “Calm down, babe.” He turned to Noah and Shane, who had unobtrusively taken refuge close to Jack. “Isaac wants us to relieve you for the night.  Eliza and I will watch the Mark. You guys can pick it back up again in the morning.”

Jack nodded but glanced anxiously at the dark house. He didn’t like this set up. Could he trust them with Valie’s life until morning? 

“You’ll be on your own for the next couple of days,” Terrence went on to say, pulling Jack’s attention back to him. “Isaac, Eliza and I have business elsewhere.” Terrence leaned against a tree in an easy stance. “Relax. Try to get some sleep, cub. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

Jack stared at Terrence as the Lycan smiled and resumed his normal behavior—teasing his mate, caressing her playfully. Eliza smiled knowingly at Jack, but he couldn’t tell if she were responding to her lover’s touch or gloating in some knowledge unbeknownst to Jack. 

Isaac would want to make a move soon.

They needed to decide what they were going to do, and they needed to do it fast. Was Jack going to allow Isaac to kill this innocent girl, his own daughter? Jack had been prepared to help him transform her into a werewolf. He did not think himself prepared to commit an act of murder. Would he—
could
he—stop such an occurrence from happening—or, at least, try? What allegiance did he owe Isaac?

Full of misgivings, Jack cast a final glance into the little room where Valie was, for now, safe. Jack signaled for Shane and Noah to follow, and they departed in single file, melting silently into the fog and misty rain.

“What are we going to do, Jack?” Shane asked apprehensively, as they found a dry overhang nearby to shelter themselves.

“We can’t let Isaac kill the girl, correct?”

“Correct,” Noah and Shane said in unison.

“Then we get her away from him.”

Shane snorted. “How?”

“She knows what we are, now. We’ll have to tell her the whole story. We’ll just have to convince her.”

“We don’t have any proof,” Noah interjected.

Jack shot him a mischievous look. 
“Yet.”

LOYALTIES

Jack banged on the door of an old industrial type building over by the railroad tracks. The rusty, nondescript sign that was hung in the center of a deserted alleyway certainly didn’t attract many customers to
Windemere and Borken—Antique
Books and Miscellany,
even in broad daylight. In fact, the sign was illegible and had been for fifty years—probably a good thing, since the interior of the shop held very few books and, although the miscellany was in abundance, it was hardly the type of junk the average bargain hunter would bargain for. But it didn’t really matter. The occasional visitor saw exactly what the two warlock shopkeepers—Windemere and Borken—wanted him to see. 

The pack had been staying here for nearly five weeks. So far, there had been very little trouble between the werewolves and these old warlocks. Of course, there was always the potential for a . . . difference of opinion between different Occult kinds. But, the old wizards were of the generally accepting and accommodating sort—as long as payment was made. Still their natures were deep-rooted in the ancient ways—when Lycanthropes did not mix with the Fey or the people of the Craft such as themselves. Even at that, it should have been easy to strike a bargain with these two and be treated somewhat as guests but, instead, Isaac had played off of old fears and private debts to coerce them to house his pack indefinitely—so they were treated accordingly—except for Isaac, of course.

That should have been Jack’s first clue that something was off with Isaac. They weren’t even allowed to rent a hotel room. And they had been explicitly warned not to drop Isaac’s name in any of the local Occult haunts. “Too public,” he’d vaguely stated.

So here they were, stuck in the musty, airless upper rooms above the Occult shop—with hardly enough space for the two shriveled warlocks, much less six werewolves. Jack, Shane, and Noah weren’t particularly anxious to return tonight to this hideaway, but they needed to plan.

It was now past midnight and the fog swirled all around. Jack rapped louder. Finally, Windemere opened the shop door a crack and looked out at the three impatient werewolves in front of him.

“Coming in, are we?” he asked peevishly. “Here. Let me play the doorman for you.” He scowled as Jack, Shane, and Noah sauntered in casually. Securing the door behind them, the warlock muttered something in an ancient tongue and followed them up the creaky staircase. Jack wondered what the expletives meant, but he ignored them as usual.

The werewolves had to admit that the warlocks had created a beautiful living area—richly decorated with priceless treasures, eternities old. The furnishings were mostly Fey—with their distinctive tableaux carvings—indecipherable, of course, to the pack. The room fascinated Jack. From what he had gleaned from Isaac, Jack learned that much of the detailed carvings had to do with the Division and the worshipping of Earth’s First Light over the darkness of the Vampyre horde and their demonic influence. Jack had never had much of a mind for history, but upon transformation you are an Occult being with as much history to draw upon as human beings; ignorance could prove fatal. So he’d learned to pay attention as much as possible to the little things.

Shane’s querulous voice finally broke through his consciousness. “Why would we go to
Seattle? Won’t the rest of our clan suspect something?” Shane demanded as she stomped up the stairs, last into the room.

Jack held up a hand to silence her. He didn’t need unwanted ears listening in, picking up too much information.

“Where’s Borken?” Jack asked the old warlock.

“Out.
We’re allowed to do that, you know.
Go out
.”

Jack ignored the man’s attitude and watched him shuffle
out of the room. Then he returned to Shane’s question, but spoke in a quieted tone. “We’ll go home and pretend Isaac sent us back. We can go to the Council ourselves! Out Isaac for what he is! But in any case, we can’t stay here.”

Noah had been quiet for most of the evening—keeping his own counsel and letting Shane and Jack battle it out—but he finally broke his silence. “Jack, don’t you think Isaac would have covered his tracks better than this?” Noah asked. “Do you really think he’ll let us get that far?”

“He won’t. Especially with what little information you three are working off of.” Windemere spoke unexpectedly from the far corner of the room in his tired, wheezing voice. He sat in an old armchair about as decrepit as its occupant.

“And why do you say that? You don’t even know what we’re talking about,” Jack replied, though his conviction was waning. The hostility Jack had witnessed these last few weeks that existed quite obviously between Windemere and Isaac had seemed too familiar, as if the two had known each other for a much longer time. Perhaps Windemere knew more than Jack believed.

When the warlock merely smiled in reply, Jack walked over to the armchair and faced him.

“What do you know?” he demanded.

“A lot more than you cubs think. I’ve been here a long time.” He motioned around the dimly lit room. With a gleam in his eye, he added, “I was here eighteen years ago, when Isaac
first
came around—with his hollow
aspirations
.”  He spat out the last word.

“Wait. You knew Isaac personally back then?”

“Yes, boy. I knew him
personally
. He stayed in my humble abode as a friend—this was before Borken and I became acquainted… Ah, but that is an interesting story . . . .”

Jack, fearing the old man’s mind was wandering, interrupted, “How did he meet the woman?”

“Who? Oh, Elizabeth. I also knew Elizabeth. Isaac introduced us.” Windemere paused, and then added, almost to himself, “He was always so sure of himself.

“They came here for a short time. She was a beautiful little
thing—though she refused to believe it herself.” And suddenly he was back in those days, remembering, remembering a woman that—judging by his expression—he was fond of. “She was entranced with the Occult—genuinely delighted with this new world opened up to her. She had the most nurturing disposition. Imagine
caring
for an old wizard!”

Windemere’s demeanor changed abruptly. He became dour and petulant. “He should have protected her. She had no idea what she was doing. What could I do?  She was a fool, and Isaac, an egotist.  What could I do? Of course, the relationship was impossible. I knew Isaac was not right for her, even if he were
human.
He was too selfish; she, too giving. When he revealed the secrets of his existence to her—and even the existence of others—she welcomed the knowledge as an opportunity to get closer to him, believing that he was offering some secret part of himself to her. Fools! It is an inviolable law. She found that out. In truth, Isaac was using her as he does everyone. It is his nature; it is inescapable.”

“And the child?
What about Valentine?”

Jack was somewhat taken aback at the range of emotions which passed fleetingly across the old wizard’s face. It was obvious that the mention of Valie caused him pain. Once more, he seemed to be speaking as if no one else were in the room. 
“Ah, Isaac! Did he love her? Perhaps, at first. Yes, I do believe he loved her, in his own way.  It’s true that he made her happy for the brief time they were together. . . until the child was conceived.” 

Jack thought that he was going to have to prompt the old man again. But, suddenly, the warlock jumped nimbly to his feet and began pacing frantically around the room. The three werewolves looked at each other, but remained silent, allowing him to work out his agitation. Finally, Windemere seemed to come to a decision. He stopped and looked around at the three, raising his hands as if in surrender. “He broke all the rules; then abandoned her and their unborn child. What could I do? I hated it all, and I told him so. But it was
Elizabeth’s fate, was it not? And the child’s fate? Valentine McRae. Valentine Quinn. Of course, the child should never have been born, but such is life—a series of mistakes.” Then he looked directly at Jack, “Or is she fated, also? Did she ever have a chance?”

He retreated to his armchair—this emotional scene taking its toll. “Isaac fled from this place, never to be seen in the region until now.
And why now, cubs? Why has he returned and imposed part of his clan on me? Yes, he has to keep a low profile. Of course, he keeps me close—because I
know
, you see. Only I know everything. And you wonder why my house is charmed!”

Windemere finished with a wry smile, tapping his temple with his forefinger. “You’re smart, boy,
smart to have figured him out so quickly. May I ask what tipped you off to her existence?”

Nodding his head slowly as he now sat on the floor, Jack shrugged nonchalantly—like it was no big deal. He still didn’t know if he could trust Windemere. “Mostly from what the girl knew herself—and then there are the eyes—her eyes are that same unusual amber as Isaac’s are.”

Windemere nodded affirmatively and added, “There are other similarities in her personality—the stern set of her mouth, her defensiveness and stubborn temper. Too much like Isaac, probably.  But she has her mother in her, too—spirit, determination, and . . . the capacity to love. Quite an interesting little half-blood. And she’s probably inherited some Lycan characteristics, but nothing of much consequence as of yet.”

Jack was listening to Windemere prattle on about Valie, as if he had intimate knowledge of her—firsthand knowledge for 18 years. Jack felt numb. First, he just couldn’t seem to get over the fact that he’d been correct—that Isaac—their creator, their
father
, essentially—was, at best, a deadbeat dad and, at worst, a would-be murderer with Valie, Isaac’s own daughter, as his unwitting prey. Second, he couldn’t figure what was in Isaac’s mind. He thought he understood Isaac, but, obviously, he was wrong. Windemere was right. There was nothing simple about any of this. 

A plan?
What plan?

Seeming to sense where Jack’s thoughts had led him, the warlock asked with an impish eye, “What are you going to do
about it?”

Jack took a deep breath. He looked toward Shane, her eyes watery; and then toward Noah, stoic and composed. Without so much as a blink, he knew what was in their minds. He had needed a plan and now that his suspicions were confirmed, he had one.

“We’re going to protect her.”

“
How
?” Shane hissed across the room. Jack turned to find the blonde on the other side of the room, sitting in an old wooden chair next to a small side-table with a dimly lit lamp. The lamp was casting its white light on her face, shadowing the other side. The effect made her look even more drawn than she did already; the brightness of her eyes, the goldenness of her hair, the vivacious look she had learned to maintain—it was all dulled by the light of that lamp and the thoughts raging around in the she-wolf’s mind.

One glance at the girl told Jack that Shane was having serious doubts,
dangerous
doubts, doubts he couldn’t afford for Noah to contagiously catch.

“Noah,” Jack said in a low tone as he rose from the floor. “I hate to do this, but I need you to catch up with Terrence and Eliza for the night. We need to keep our own watch of Valie.”

“Alright, but what do I tell them when I get there?”

“Make something up. Say you need the practice. Or, better yet, say Shane and I were arguing. You needed something better to do than watch us go at it.”

Noah glanced between Shane and Jack as the two gazed at each other from either side of the room. Their looks were calm enough and the boy paused, confused.

“
Are
you fighting?” he queried.

Jack broke his eye contact with Shane to turn and smile at the boy. “Not yet. Don’t worry about it. Just take care, okay?”

Noah nodded and, with a final glance at his two companions and the warlock in the corner, took off silently down the stairs.

“Windemere, would you give us the room?”

The old man
harrumph
ed as he rose form his chair. “I suppose. Looks like a storms coming.”

Jack didn’t grace that with a reply. He just waited until the warlock’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs before turning to his pack-mate and asked, “Now, what’s on your mind, Shane?”

The she-wolf looked down at her hands. “Your plan…it involves leaving Isaac doesn’t it? And soon?”

“Yes. It’s the only way. We need to get Valie as far away as possible and, if Isaac and the others are really leaving for a couple of days like Terrence said, then it’s the ideal window of opportunity to sneak away.”

“Well…I don’t…I don’t know if I’m willing to do that….”

It took almost a minute for that sentence to fully register with Jack. “Weren’t
you
the one who told me that you couldn’t be an accomplice to murder?”

“I know! But we
have
killed for Isaac before….”

“Vampyres, Shane! The already-dead! And any other Occult deaths we’ve had a hand in—warlocks, witches, Fey-born—were all casualties of kill-or-be-killed situations.”