The ender, p.8
The Ender, page 8
“Laney told me you were alive… I didn’t believe.” She reached her arm to his shoulder, intoxicating him with her nearness.
He wanted to stay right here forever—to get back the life he never knew. But something in him snapped him back into reality. He was a killer. He didn’t deserve to be loved like this. “I’ve got to go.”
He jumped off the couch and raced for the door.
It slammed behind him as Shelly called out, “Don’t leave.”
Brian and Tim appeared to be studying a large map when he bolted down the stairs. His eyes set on the front door. “We’ve got to go.”
“Tim was just showing me a map of Lexington from 1774. Maybe you’ve visited these sites?” Brian leaned back against the counter with a wide grin across his face.
Jonas glared at him. Why did the Gate Keeper always insist on crossing the line? “I don’t care what you’re doing. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t sure why he did it. There was no real reason. His eyes were set on the door—three giant paces from where he stood. But just like Lot’s wife, something inclined him to look back.
His mother stood on the top of the stairs. Her blonde hair circled her face like an angel. “Don’t leave, Christopher.”
Chapter 9
“Okay, people!” Harriet yelled at the crew while keeping her gun pointed at William and Laney. “Let’s get Sam and Vic’s scene shot, and then you can go home for the night.”
She walked closer to William and Laney, never lowering the gun. “Samantha, go back to wardrobe.”
“No.” Laney planted her feet on the stage. “I don’t care what kind of deal you’ve got with the Wanderer, and you can stay here for all I care, but you’re going to have to find someone else to play Samantha.”
The woman cocked the gun and pushed it against William’s head. Everyone else around them still set up for the scene like nothing was happening. It all swirled around like a dream.
Vic called to her from the side of the stage. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get this thing shot.”
“Don’t do it.” William stood so still, his intense green eyes focused on her. Only his mouth moved. “I love you.”
“You think your little kissy-face game is love?” Harriet’s free hand moved as she spoke. “Love is power and money and fame. Why do you think people read my books? They want this kind of love.”
Laney stepped closer to Harriet. “Love is sacrifice. It’s the opposite of everything you think.” She lunged at the older woman’s arm as the gun went off, sending people scattering.
The two women fell to the floor in the middle of the stage. Vic rushed over and extended his hand to Harriet, who seemed to have twisted her ankle in her heels. She groaned as she lifted herself to one foot. They were alone in the spotlight.
“Whatever happened to you?” Laney brushed herself off as she stood up. “You founded the Golden Recluse, and now you want to kill us?”
“I don’t want to kill you. I’ll leave that up to the Wanderer. My only goal is for you to be a good girl and follow my directions. Foreplay on Friday should be another New York Times bestseller for Rose Stevens.”
Laney looked at William, who now had the gun in his hand. But then the stage went pitch black. Someone turned off the spotlight, making it impossible for Laney to see her hand in front of her face.
“William.”
He grabbed her hand and led her toward a dimly lit exit sign somewhere in the distance. His direction held urgency. She tripped over her feet multiple times trying to keep up with his pace. They had to find Nick, who had disappeared during their confrontation with Harriet.
“Are you ready?” He leaned over and whispered in the darkness. “As soon as we find Nick, we need to leave.” His breath hitched. “What she was going to do to you… what he was going to do to you.”
They’d found a secluded, darkened alcove somewhere between the stage and the dressing rooms. She wanted to keep moving because there was no telling how quickly they’d get the lights back on, but a slight sob from William kept her grounded to that spot.
Her hands snaked around his waist as she pulled him to her. His chest heaved, moving her to her core. This vulnerability… his vulnerability was new to her—a side of him beyond his humor, his strength, and his undying love. Her pen didn’t create the perfect person, although that’s how she pictured him. William could break.
This thought scared and elated Laney at the same time. It helped her understand what she could be for him. It went both ways. He needed her in this moment as much as she needed him.
Her chin nestled into his shoulder blade. “I’m okay. We’re going to be okay. We just need to find Nick and leave this nightmare behind.”
“I don’t understand… how can she write this trash? Doesn’t she understand she’s dragging her characters through the mud? It’s worse than what Mark does to his characters.” He drew her closer, his lips almost touching her ear. “That man was going to defile the woman I love.”
“Defile?” She smirked, thankful it was dark.
“Yes, defile.” He let out a breath and ran his hand down her arm. “Where I’m from…” He leaned his head back against the wall. “Where I’m from, a man and a woman wait for the sacrament of marriage. In this time, it seems that they go at it like they’re a bunch of animals who can’t control themselves.”
“Times change.” She wished she could see his eyes. “I love everything about you—especially your old-fashioned notions.”
Footsteps halted their conversation. She drew closer to William and held her breath.
“Laney?” The footsteps stopped feet away from their hiding place.
His voice sent a rush of relief through her as she released William and yanked Nick into the alcove. The lights flickered on, and other footsteps came rushing down the hallway towards them, but they were too late. A bright flash blinded Harriet and Vic, leaving them empty-handed.
Tim stared up at his wife, Jonas still frozen at the door. Concern creased his forehead.
“I’m not crazy.” She descended half the stairs, keeping her eyes on her son. “It’s not like I’ve mentioned him for years.”
Her husband met her at the bottom, setting his hands on her shoulders. “No, but I don’t want to see you relapse. I don’t want Laney to see you this way.”
Brian flipped through an antique magazine, keeping his eyes averted from the awkward scene. Jonas considered a quick exit. It wasn’t like he’d known love before, so how would he know what he was missing if he just took off?
A silence filled the room except for the ticking of a clock above the door. The ticking reminded him of every second he’d wasted. Twenty-one years of seconds gone to waste like tea in Boston Harbor during the dumb tea party the Patriots staged in what seemed like a lifetime ago. But his heart beat at a pace faster than the clock, making his palms and brow sweat.
He turned the handle of the front door, letting the cool, outside air through the crack, clearing his head and alerting him to what he had to do. The door flew open, and he stumbled out to the sidewalk.
Grady leaned against the car, staring up at the sky, before directing his gaze at his grandson. “Didn’t go too well, did it?”
“Leave me alone, old man.” He checked both directions for signs of life and then chose to turn left.
“Don’t be gone for too long.” Grady held open the door to the shop. “You don’t want your mom to worry.”
People milled along the sidewalk, window shopping. He shot glances over his shoulder every few minutes. Were Brian or that woman going to follow him? He passed a hardware store, a bank, and a gas station. So, this was where Laney grew up—where he’d have grown up if life had been different.
A car with a loud beat skidded close to him, spraying his clothes with filthy puddle water. A teenage boy hung out the window and yelled, “Loser!”
“If I had my musket right now, you’d be dead!” He shouted after the teenagers who were now two blocks away.
Anger bubbled inside of him, more at himself than anyone in particular. Why couldn’t he control his temper? The pain of missing this normal life came to the surface. He should have been driving a car down Main Street and splashing puddles at unsuspecting losers, not that punk.
At the next traffic light, he noticed a diner—Mary Anne’s. Maybe that’s where Laney got her book world name. He pushed open the door, feeling his stomach rumble.
A woman with fake red hair and too much makeup welcomed him. “Hi, darlin’. Looks like you’ve had yourself a little accident there.”
Staring down at his feet, Jonas saw a puddle form on the linoleum floor, dripping from his clothing. “I can take it to go.”
“Now don’t be silly. Amy!” The woman shouted to some unknown person in the back of the diner. “Can you bring some towels up here?”
The other woman brought three white towels from somewhere in the back and handed them to Jonas. “What happened to you? It rained earlier this morning, but I thought it stopped.”
“Let’s just say you have some very welcoming teenagers in this town.” He grumbled while he patted his clothing with a towel. “Can’t seem to appreciate the new guy.”
The redheaded woman went to clean up one of the tables, and the woman she called Amy took a wad of money out of her apron, counted it two times, and then placed it in the drawer of the register.
“You’re not from around here?” Amy closed the drawer of the register and picked up a menu. “Do you want to see our specials?”
“No… um, I’m not from around here.” Jonas didn’t want to go into the technicality of that statement. “Yeah, I’ll look at the specials.”
She brought him a large stack of pancakes, two eggs, and a bowl of fruit. He lifted his fork and shoveled the food into his mouth without taking a breath.
She smiled at him, but it was a thin smile. “You remind me of my son. Always eating me out of house and home. He was a lacrosse player, so he had the appetite of about three normal people.”
He took a moment to swallow, placing his fork on his plate. “Your son doesn’t play lacrosse anymore?”
Amy motioned to the booth seat across from him. Jonas nodded, so she plopped down, placed her elbows on the table, and put her head in her hands. “I don’t normally talk about this with strangers, but there’s something about you that’s familiar. I know it shouldn’t, and there’s no way we know each other, but…”
He lifted his glass and took a drink. Comforting women wasn’t really an area of expertise for him. Over the past two years, he was more of an expert in torturing them. Even though he wanted to continue to eat in peace, he leaned back, ready to hear this woman’s life story. “No, we don’t know each other.”
“That’s just it. You’re familiar, yet a stranger.” She lifted the pepper shaker and shook a small pile of pepper into her palm. “He was all I had. Sure, I’ve got this job and a few friends, but he was my only family. And even though everyone tells me it wasn’t my fault… that there was nothing I could have done, I still feel the guilt every single day.”
Jonas remained speechless. He knew what it was like to lose someone close to you. Guilt wasn’t something that came with his brother’s death, more of a need to place blame.
“Look at me going on, and all you want to do is eat your meal.” She scooted to the edge of the booth seat. She fluffed her hair and straightened her apron.
“Don’t leave.” Jonas needed this, even though he hated to admit it.
When she scooted back into the booth, he scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
She wrapped her hands around the empty coffee mug in front of her. “Jason would have been twenty next week. You can’t be more than twenty-two?”
The scrambled eggs suddenly felt like an entire egg stuck in his throat. He coughed to get them up, holding his napkin to spit out the remains. Lifting his glass, he chugged the remainder of his water. He wanted to get up and leave, but something glued him to that spot. “Um… yes. Well, actually I’m twenty-three.”
“Are you all right?” She handed him another napkin.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little too much hot sauce.” He held up the Tabasco container. “Got to lay off it once in a while.”
A couple entered the front door, so Amy jumped up to seat them by the window. He pushed at the food on his plate, feeling the sudden urge to throw up the contents of his stomach. He took another sip of his refilled glass and waited for the woman to return. The woman whose son he murdered, even if it was an accident.
Amy returned with a big smile on her face. “You know what. I’m not going to talk about Jason anymore. I want to know more about you. Like, first of all…” She raised her hands above her head and then pointed them at him. “I don’t even know your name, and here I am going on like we’re old friends.”
“Jonas.” He tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. This woman must know everyone in town, and Jason’s mother must know Laney’s parents. “Do you know the owners of Holden’s Antiques?”
“Yes. Very well. Shelly’s my best friend.” She smiled, possibly thinking about a past memory. “She’s helped me through some tough times.”
He cleared his throat, moving his fist to his mouth before removing it again. “Do you know anything about their son?”
The woman looked down at her apron and then picked up a placard advertising their happy hour specials. She wasn’t really looking at it, just running her finger along the edges. “Their son died as an infant.”
He sat back and crossed his arms, letting out a small laugh. “Is that what they told you?”
“Of course, that’s what they told me.” Small wrinkles formed on her forehead as she leaned forward. “Who exactly are you, and why do you want to know about the Holdens?”
The smell of a campfire woke Laney. She lifted herself up on one arm, not really feeling cut out for book jumping. Between the two books, she’d been dive-bombed by a killer bird, shot at bye a money and fame-driven maniac, and forced to dress in the skimpiest outfit she’d ever laid eyes on. How she longed for a history book full of normal, boring wars and skirmishes.
William roused next to her. “Are we back?”
“I think we’re in the woods by the school.” She removed her flashlight from her backpack and shined it around the area. A smoky haze drifted through the trees surrounding the small meadow. Nick lay beneath a grove of bushes a few yards away.
“I’ve never been so happy to be out of a book before.” He placed a hand on her knee. “I’d take the Brutes any day of the week before I’d take another moment with that Vic guy.”
“And what happened to Harriet?” She trusted the older woman least out of the members of the Golden Recluse, but she still didn’t think she’d betray them.
“She works for the Wanderer. Do you remember what she said about love? That it has everything to do with power? Maybe this is her way of feeling like she’s in control. If she can control the other Weavers with the Wanderer, she can basically take over the writing world.”
“And what will she do with that power? Take over every section in Barnes and Noble?” Laney stood up and brushed the dried leaves off her pants. “She’s already rich enough, I’m sure.”
A large barn own took off from a bough above, covering them with a flurry of fresh snow. She reached out to brush the flakes from William’s hair, but he caught her by the wrist midway. His eyes lidded in the moonlight, holding a desire that caused her stomach to knot with her own yearning.
“But… Nick could wake up.”
He placed a finger from his free hand over her lip to quiet her, clasped her other wrist, and lifted both of them to their feet. Without a word, he led her a short way into the woods before backing her against a tree. It was rough, but she didn’t care.
He leaned forward, her wrists still pinned by his hands against the bark. “I need to be alone with you—without monsters, without Enders, without Nick.”
His mouth engulfed hers, sending his hunger shooting through every last inch of her body. He released her hands, and she had them instantly entangled in his hair. He sighed as she moved her body closer to his, but it wasn’t close enough. With her heart racing, she inched away from him to unzip her coat and then drew back, only a thin layer of clothing between them. His heart slammed against his chest, taking her face in his hands again, tracing the line of her jaw with his lips before aligning them to hers.
William’s kiss grew deeper as he lowered her to the ground. The silence of the winter surrounded them. The only sounds came from their labored breathing in between kisses. She never imagined their first time being on a snow-covered ground in the dead of winter, but it was perfect. She took a moment to catch her breath before running her fingers through his hair, around the corners of his eyes, and to his lips. “I’m ready.”
His brow drew in, and he sat up but kept a hand on her arm. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying?”
She blushed, unable to hide her embarrassment. “I love you. I want you… all of you.”
He cleared his throat before lifting her to a seated position and wrapping his arms around her. “I love you more than life itself. And I want all of you more than you can ever imagine. But…”
“There’s always a ‘but.’” Laney rolled her eyes. The snow beneath her suddenly felt cold, although she couldn’t feel it moments before. “I don’t care about it. I know about how things normally work in the eighteenth century, but we’re in the twenty-first century for at least a few hours. Can’t we use those hours productively?”
He sighed as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “We’ll have many years together. Why can’t it wait until we’re committed to each other?”
Laney whipped around to face him. “We are committed. And with the Wanderer around, I don’t know if we have another day together. If you haven’t noticed, she’s trying to kill us—or at least me.”
Standing up, he walked over to a different tree, leaned his arm against it with his head down.
