Beasthood (The Hidden Blood Series) (17 page)

“
You ready?” he asked.

             
She nodded slowly. She didn't want to speak in case something inside her lost control. She'd known over the past two weeks how this 'thing' within her could make her think and feel things she knew weren't really her.

              She'd spent a lot of time with Driver.

             
Apart from Maria, and the occasional visit from Skye (her toes were fully healed and the nails grew much quicker than before. It freaked her out, so she continued to clip them and paint them every two or three days), Driver was her only source of company.

             
At first, when he'd been around, he'd sit in his room on his bed, reading a book or on his laptop whilst she was in her room staring into space. Then on the same day Maria had told her she was her grandmother, he had laid out some books on her bed. She'd found them after coming out of the shower.

             
He had been sat in his usual position on his bed reading as she'd leant back to gaze at him through her doorway. He'd looked up from his page. She'd pointed inside to the books with a look that questioned 'For me?'. He'd nodded once, and when she'd turned to study them, he'd smiled to himself.

             
One part of her wanted to like him, the other couldn't. After everything, she just couldn't. And luckily for her, the side that couldn't like him -in fact hated him and Erica and everyone else who'd taken part in her capture, including Maria at times- happened to be the strongest, dominant side of her.

             
Though not always.

              A few days ago, (she remembered Maria mention it was a Thursday) she'd almost reached out and touched his arm one night without thinking, when he'd brought her a tray of dinner.

             
He hadn't brought her an uncooked steak before. Not since the first time. And she hadn't asked though they both knew she wanted one. Even without her uncomfortable confession two weeks before.

             
That Thursday night, however, he did bring one for her. He had placed it in front of her and for some sickening reason, the moment she saw it, she had felt like she owed him. That she should show her gratitude.

             
Then when he'd asked her if she'd like him to stay with her and join her, her hand had reached out, ready to touch his arm as he'd perched on his bed above her. She had flung her hand straight back into her chest with the power of a slingshot, holding it tightly to her ribcage in case it moved uncontrollably again. She had nearly fallen back from her cross-legged position on the animal hide with the speed she'd moved.

             
He had watched her sudden movement with bewilderment. His dark eyes had lightened with surprise.

             
She'd simply shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

             
He'd studied her for a short moment and then had gotten up casually, leaving without another word. She hadn't been able to stop the annoying bitch in her head from feeling terrible that she'd offended him.

             
It was driving her insane.

“I was wondering,” Nik began as he hovered by her door, “if you wanted to take some books with you?”              

             
She'd left the ones he'd given her to read on his bed. The usual classics; Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, all the Jane Austen novels. She'd read all of them in eight days.

“
That would be nice,” she mumbled.

             
He signalled her with his hand to follow him. She got up and he led her to his bed, then knelt down and dug his fingers  underneath the edge of the mattress. There was a clicking sound and then the bed frame, mattress included, lifted up from the floor. The legs and outer frame stayed on the ground. He only had to push it up and the bed did the rest, leaning against the wall.

             
Jaz stared at the wooden slats of the bed before glancing down as the sound of paper being rustled drew her attention to the bottom frame, fixed to the ground.

             
The area of the bed was a huge storage unit. There were books and folders and shoe boxed stacked neatly inside. The books were slotted into wooden shelves that had been fixed across on the right hand side of the bed, leaving the left hand side free to fit bigger items such as the boxes and folders.

             
He pulled out books, one by one placing them on the floor next to him. She read titles like Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Dracula, North & South. He selected an eclectic mixture of books, old and new.

             
She counted up to fifteen before she stopped him. “That's more than enough,” she said.

             
He turned and smiled at her then rested on his knees. She sat down on hers and looked through the books.

             
A copy of Richard Matheson's 'I Am Legend' opened to the first page and the word's 'For Lora' hit her in the face like a cold slap. She stared as if she'd seen a ghost.

             
Driver jumped forward with concern, and his fingers gripped the book. He realized his hands were over hers when she flinched but to his surprise she didn't move hers away; her fingers dug into the spine of the book, unable to let go. 

             
He looked down, saw the familiar writing and closed his eyes. He mouthed 'You idiot' and opened his eyes to look into her watery, shocked stare.

“
This is Lora's? Why do you have Lora's book?”

             
There was a pause, before he replied, “I have all of her books.” Jaz stared, confused. He explained as carefully as he could. “When she- when she died, I kept her books stored here. I forgot this was hers. I thought it was mine.”

It
was
mine,
he thought and gazed at Jaz apologetically.

“
Who
was
she to you?” she asked suspiciously.

“
Does it matter?”

             
That scared her. Her eyes widened in response. His face was unreadable. “Yes, it does,” she responded warily.

“
She was a member of our community.”

“
No.” She shook her head, seeing something hidden beneath his dark eyes. “There's a reason I was kept here wasn't there? In your room.” He didn't speak. He wanted to stop her from trying to work it out, but there was nothing he could think to say. “I mean why not Erica, or Maria or even Skye or someone? Why you?” she interrogated.

“
I think you know the answer to that.”

             
She squeezed her eyes half shut as she frowned at him, searchingly. “What are you hiding?”

             
He looked at her for a long moment before standing up, avoiding her intense eyes. “Take whatever books you want. Edda will be here to take you soon.” He turned and walked out leaving her staring after him.

             
She gazed down at her sister's name with a million questions suffocating her mind.

                                                                                    *

              She grabbed the books he'd chosen and placed them neatly in her suitcase. There was just enough space for ten, so she left the rest behind. She picked up the last pile of books from the floor, turned to go to her room when the sound of a papery thud on the floor stopped her. She wheeled round and cocked her head down.

             
It wasn't one she'd seen before. The book was thin, with a faded blue cover and as she leaned closer, she could see a very artistic pattern on the front.               She was sure she'd seen it somewhere before. She knelt down, put her books to one side and picked up the imposter.

             
The pattern was a Celtic-looking design with vines of flowers – roses she guessed- with thorns and strange lettering interwoven in the middle. Three of them. The first was an 'X' but the top and bottom ends joined together to create two triangles, the tips pointing to each other where the middle of 'X' used to be. The other was one line, like an 'I', and the last was an 'R' but the lines were sharp and straight, no curves.

             
Where had she seen this before?

             
She opened the book, peering up at the door to make sure it was still closed and no one was watching her.

             
The first page was written in very curved, slanted writing, with the dots of the 'i's drawn in short sweeping lines like a claw-scratch.

             
It read 'Lora's Diary'.

~
Chapter 16-
Bargain~

Wednesday May 18
th
, 1:03 p.m. -
Deer Creek

             
Garik rolled himself a cigarette, mixing tobacco with dried mint leaves (he liked the taste) whilst he leant against his jeep.

             
He was two miles from Deer Creek but had pulled over to stretch his cramped legs. And he needed a smoke, badly.

             
The sun was blazing, his forehead dripping with sweat. He squinted up at the clear, blue sky above his dark aviator's and blew air out of his parched lips. He then licked the cigarette paper and rolled it with his hands into a thin stick, put it in his mouth and lit the end with his lucky, chrome, ace of spades lighter. It was a gift from a fellow comrade who'd died twenty-five years ago.

             
Bobbie 'Bob Marley' Richman. They called him 'Bob Marley' because he'd had the big dreadlocked hair, even though he was white, and Scottish. But it had strangely suited him. No joke. Garik smiled sadly.

             
He'd had his throat, liver and spleen torn out right in front of Garik, when the Deer Creek Pack had been attacked by another called The Red Sword Pack. They'd earned that name from all the blood they'd spilled over the past couple of centuries.

             
It was now led by a tough, Swedish-looking, Viking wannabe by the name of Njord Rasmussen. His father and the Deer Creek's current Pack Leader's father, Olaf, had been best friends since they were boys. But a misunderstanding over something Garik never found out, caused them to fight against each other.

             
Garik was fifty-two now. He exhaled a halo of smoke as he worked out his age back then. He'd
just turned twenty-seven when the war broke out, he remembered. He thought about the friends he'd lost as he inhaled the sweet smoke of his roll-up. Bobbie had been the greatest loss of all.

             
His reminiscing was broken by a faint noise behind him, coming from the forest to the north. He sniffed the air. He didn't move as he called out, “It's a good job I don't have my gun close by. I might have got a little too friendly with the trigger.” The sound of heavy footfalls on the cement met his ears and he slowly turned with a dark smile on his face, to gaze at a man the size of a house. “I could smell you from a mile away,” Garik said snidely, stubbing out his cigarette in his palm and putting it in the breast-pocket of his cotton shirt for later.

“
You must be getting old then, huh? I'd be able to hear you fart from triple that distance without even trying,” came the gravelly, low voice of a man you'd imagine singing in a rock band. He reminded Garik of the lead singer of Nickleback, Chad Kroeger. Voice and appearance.

             
His beard was similar in style but dark brown. His hair was dark blonde, about shoulder-length, wavy and tied back in a pony tail. He was all muscle. But Garik was all brains. Garik may have been older than 'Chad' but he was a skilled fighter, a quick-thinker, with balls of steel. He'd been in many battles, much more than Goldilocks here, so he wasn't a wimp let's put it that way.

“
Old, and wise,” Garik warned, tapping his temple with his index finger. “And my wise brain tells me that you're trespassing on Deer Creek land, so unless you've got a good reason to be following me, I suggest you spit it out. Unless,” he held up a hunting knife -Crocodile Dundee style- adding, “you want this old man to show you he's still got a good aim.”

             
The muscle house held up his hands defensively. “Easy there, you might cut yourself.”

             
Garik growled. It was a gut-chilling, guttural growl, like an animal. Any normal person would have wet themselves. Muscle house, however, was unfazed. He even smiled lightheartedly.

“
Out with it,” Garik grunted.

“
Well I guess we'll skip all the niceties and get down to business-”

“
Business? Huh! Whatever you're selling I ain't buying mate.”

             
Muscle house's deep storm-blue eyes creased at the sides as he grinned. His wide mouth looked too big for his face. “Oh I think what I've got for you will be of interest.” Garik listened, now curious. “A little bird told me that you've taken particular interest in the mysterious Cur Hunters?”

Fuck, how'd he know that?
Garik cursed silently, looking sharply at him.

             
'Chad' saw the anxiety in Garik's eyes and smiled slyly. “So I'm guessing I'm right then?”

“
You might be.”

“
So are you interested in hearing our info on them?”

“
Depends.”

             
Muscle house raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “On what?”

“
On whether I can trust you not to put me in deep shit,”Garik shot back.

             
'Chad' gazed at Garik squarely.

             
Garik watched 'Chad' accusingly.

“
Why would I do that when we have similar interests?” 'Chad's' voice went higher, trying to lure Garik in.

“
I doubt that,” Garik remarked flatly.

“
We can get you in.”

             
Garik stared at 'Chad' uncertainly. He studied him for a moment before retorting, “No thanks.” He then turned to open his car door.

             
'Chad' was behind him in seconds.

             
Garik swung round with his elbow ready to crush 'Chad's' nose. 'Chad' blocked the attack with his solid arm, leaving Garik's elbow an inch from his face.

             
He was much taller than Garik so whilst the old man cricked his neck to look up at him, 'Chad' gazed down over Garik's hovering arm,  into his face.

“
This is a peace offering,” 'Chad' began slowly, cautioning. “My Pack Leader doesn't make many. And he won't offer it again. I suggest you consider it.” He knocked Garik's arm away. Garik stood up straight, ready for a counterattack. Instead Muscle house slapped a thin document of A4 to Garik's chest, holding it there as he said, “Read it. Get back to us. Contact details are in there.” He turned and walked away. When he got to the edge of the trees he looked back and added, “Make sure you destroy it, will you? You do know how to do that?” And then as if by magic, he disappeared as he merged into the trees.

“
Bloody smart alec,” Garik grumbled. He looked down at the booklet in his hands, flicked through the printed pages. He left it open on the last page with bold, ominous text that read,

I am offering you a chance to get your revenge. If you are interested in my offer then contact me within the NEXT FIVE DAYS. If I do not hear from you I will consider that as you're final answer and any chance of us becoming allies will vanish INDEFINITELY.

“Well shit, Rassy boy you sure are direct,” he remarked, releasing a short laugh. He swatted the booklet onto the front seat and got in his jeep.

             
He slammed his door and stared at the trees in front. He glanced down at the document and back at the trees, then back again. In a hasty motion he picked up the booklet, swiveled round reaching for his rucksack on the back seat. He unzipped it and stuffed the papers inside, then zipped it back up loudly. He chucked it on the front seat, exhaled heavily and grunted, “Fuck it,” before starting the engine.