Chereads / The Last Werewolf (Silver Blood) / Chapter 6 - | Resistance

Chapter 6 - | Resistance

Jack scurried out of bed, fighting against a wave of dizziness. The meat sizzling seemed to fill his ears. Its stench was hitting the back of his head like smelling salts. It was like his senses had been suddenly sharpened and now the world was too loud, too bright; a mass of skin-crawling sensations.

He collapsed to the floor, hands over his ears, feeling like he was going to throw up.

A scampering noise sounded close by, and he felt a trembling through the threadbare carpet: the light skitter- ing of bugs and other critters, in the dark beneath the floorboards.

You're imagining it, he told himself. All of it. But he could barely hear the voice in his head for the din all about him.

Shivering, he crawled back into bed, willing the too-loud, too-bright world to go away and leave him in quiet shadows again.

He had to get out of this place tomorrow. Before it drove him totally out of his mind.

The next thing Jack knew, someone was calling him from downstairs. Marcie.

He checked the bedside clock. He'd been asleep for a couple of hours, and things felt more normal, quieter. His head ached, and there was a vile taste in his mouth, but at least he wasn't hallucinating now.

'Hey, Jack!' That was Wesley's voice, but it sounded almost mocking. 'You coming down for a bite?'

'Sure,' Jack called out hoarsely. He lurched out of bed and stumbled over to open the door. 'Two minutes.'

He noticed something at his feet. A pile of clean clothes. Wesley's, he guessed.

It felt weird to be dressed again, but good too. Healthier. Like convalescence was coming to an end at last. Jack looked at himself in the cracked mirror above the dresser and smoothed back his dark fringe. The shirt was a bit baggy but it would look better than the rumpled T-shirt he'd pretty much lived in since he wound up here.

Something was in his pants pocket. A roll of fresh mints – nice touch.

As he padded out along the corridor he saw the light was off in Ava's room.

Nervously he walked down the stairs into the spacious living room. The walls were bare and bleached like the bare floorboards. Flames crackled over a cluster of coals in a massive granite fireplace but seemed to spread no warmth. The high ceiling was crisscrossed with exposed beams, the worn wood the same dark hue as the teetering bookcases, and well-polished occasional tables below.

At first, Jack wondered if his head's volume control was playing up again, only this time turned way too low instead of cranked up high. But no. The heavy silence in the room was real, and it made Jack wish he could go straight back to bed.

'Good to see you up.' Marcie smiled at Jack expectantly.

'I feel much better,' said Jack uneasily. He tried to catch Wesley's eye, but he was slumped in a chair, thumbs working over a hand-held computer game, staring at the little screen as if no one else existed. As for Hal, he was nowhere to be seen. Then Jack realized Marcie was gesturing across at a swivel chair with its back turned to him.

'Ava, darling,' she said. 'Jack's here. I know you want to talk to him.'

Jack heard a soft sigh as the chair swiveled slowly around. Then he began to blush. Ava was dressed for a date. Her long dark hair was piled up on her head, and she was wearing a deep green low-cut dress that looked like it was silk or something. A string of pearls hung elegantly around her porcelain neck, each one was as cold and pale as her narrowed eyes.

'Hi,' she said.

Jack's face felt like it was burning. 'I'm, uh … I'm sorry we got off to a bad start. You know, me coming into your room and all.'

'Forget it,' said Ava dismissively. She got up and crossed to one of the couches.

Jack could feel Marcie's eyes flicking between the pair of them.

'Why don't you sit beside Ava, Jack?' she said.

'He's got a sense, that's why,' murmured Wesley.

'That's enough out of you,' hissed Marcie.

Jack recoiled from the venom in her voice, even though it wasn't directed at him.

Wesley gave a pantomime shrug. 'Later,' he called over his shoulder in Jack's direction, and slunk away, pale and edgy.

Hal passed him coming out of the kitchen. He was holding a tray of party food – flans, sausage rolls, and stuff. This was all getting majorly weird.

Jack perched himself on the couch beside Ava. She wriggled away a couple of inches. Hal set down the tray in front of them. Jack thanked him, though the hot, pungent smell of sausage turned his guts. He sucked the last of his mint as discreetly as possible.

The silence was excruciating. Time to try again. 'You look, uh, good, Ava. All dressed up and nowhere to go, huh?'

'I haven't been let out for days,' Ava said sullenly.

Jack frowned. 'How could you go out? The causeway's blocked, right?'

Ava looked at her mother. 'Whoops. I keep coming out with them, don't I?'

'Figure of speech,' Marcie put in smoothly.

'Eat something.' Hal spoke softly but the words sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

Jack showed willingness and took a slice of the flan, but the stink of Stilton was way too strong. He grimaced.

'Home-made,' Marcie said, encouragingly. 'Ava's quite the chef.'

'My stomach's still a little upset,' Jack murmured, putting the slice down.

Ava looked away, making a little scoffing sound at the back of her throat. Like she didn't believe him.

Just for a moment, Jack caught her scent, musky but with a sweet, messy smell like raspberries about it. It was so good, that it all but wiped out his other senses.

In a daze, he realized he was sitting there looking at her like some kind of freak.

'What are you staring at?' she inquired acidly.

'He's staring because you look quite beautiful tonight,' suggested Hal. 'Doesn't she, Jack?'

'Uh, yeah.' Jack wished the ground would open and swallow him up, no matter how many bugs were scuttling about down there. 'Yeah, she sure does.'

Ava stood up. Jack saw she was trembling as she turned to her mother. 'This is sick. Pathetic. Just what the hell are you expecting here?'

'Some manners, darling?' Marcie's voice was like ice cracking.

'I think maybe I should go back to bed,' Jack announced, too loudly, feeling almost light-headed. 'Better rest up if I'm leaving tomorrow … '

Ava looked like she was about to say something, but changed her mind. 'Goodnight, then,' she said.

Jack nodded, smiled awkwardly, and moved towards the stairs. What the hell had all that been about?

'Wait down here, Ava,' said Hal. 'We need a little talk, don't you think?'

'You all need a little talk,' muttered Jack to himself as he walked up the stairs, 'with the biggest shrink in Washington State.' All the same, a part of him wished he could hear what was going to be said next.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he found he could.

Even as he moved further along the landing, by concentrating on the low voices downstairs he could still make out every word. It's Weird, but it kind of figured. The acoustics in this house was as crazy as the people who lived in it

'You need to warm up your attitude, you icy little bitch.'

That was Marcie. Jack blinked in surprise. Nice pep talk.

'Remember Mark?' Hal added. 'Don't let that happen again, sweetheart. Please.'

Mark. The boyfriend. Then with a shiver, Tom remembered the candles burning for him in Ava's room.

'Poor, sweet Mark,' agreed Marcie. 'So keen on you. When you wouldn't play ball, well … it just tore him apart.' Her voice hardened. 'Remember?'

'You disgust me.'

Jack could hear the quaver in Ava's voice as she tried to hold back tears.

'Not as much as you disgust me,' replied Marcie coldly. 'You're soft. Toothless. A frightened rabbit when you could be … so much more.'

Jack strained to hear now over the thudding of his heart. To hear a mother say that stuff to her child … was horrible. He thought of his parents, closed his eyes, and wished they were here now.

Marcie's voice had fallen to a hoarse whisper. 'But none of that matters. This is going to happen, just as you promised it would. There's no way out for you. None.'

Jack listened in a kind of trance.

'Dad?' Ava sounded like a little girl now, pleading for help.

'Accept it, Ava,' he said softly. 'It's for your good. For the good of the family.'

'Well, I hate this family,' Ava hissed. Then she was thundering up the stairs. Angry. Defiant. 'All of you!'

Whoa. How screwed up was this? Jack ducked inside his room and quietly shut the door, terrified without really knowing why. Ava's muffled sobs from the bathroom sounded down the landing.