“We’re pretty far away from White Rose. Given the barriers Shiloh put up, it should take Kenny at least three hours to find you—if at all he knows you’re gone” Juan unbuckled his holster.
“He knows” I replied, not moving my gaze from the fireplace. The flames hissed and crackled, consuming the wood…like how Dean would be consuming Luke.
I crushed my lids at the violent imagery. I had to do something!
I scanned my surroundings, trying to think up a way to get out.
There were no more seeds with us. The last one was with Luke, and I had no idea where more were stored. Juan, too, was keeping a strict watch on me.
“I’m going upstairs” I declared.
“What for?” he asked, poking the fire.
“I’m exhausted.” I replied “If we have three hours, I’d better make use of it”
“Well” he never took his eye off the fireplace “If you sense danger, I’m down here”
“Okay” I replied, and began climbing up the staircase.
“Don’t do anything stupid” he called out again “Luke’s risking his life to keep you safe. You should trust that.”
“Yeah, I know” I said out loud.
Tell that to the stupid bracelet.
It had turned freezing cold, which never made me forget it’s presence on my wrist.
I hid upstairs in Luke’s room, remembering what Dina had told me.
If the bracelet is against them, then you should be too, because that thing can never lie.
Was Juan someone I couldn’t trust?
Then again, the bracelet hadn’t precisely proven its accuracy to me.
So far, the guy had done everything Luke had asked him to. Where was I supposed to go for answers?
I sighed, leaning against the bed frame, sitting on the carpet. I stretched my hand out, and grabbed Luke’s charger, plugging my phone in. I wanted to talk to my father.
His phone was switched off.
Groaning, I fell onto Luke’s bed.
“Shit!” I cursed, when the edge of something rectangular and hard dug into my back.
I shifted the sheets around, trying to locate whatever it was, until I spotted a hard bound diary:
Skjalasafn af Blake White
I didn’t know Icelandic, but the title was understandable enough to take a wild guess.
Besides, it wasn’t like it was the first time I had seen the book. It was the exact same thing that Derek wasn’t handing over to me— Luke’s father’s journal.
The only problem was; I didn’t know Icelandic.
I opened up the first page and ran my fingers across the beautiful cursive.
‘Það eru mörg leyndarmál White Fjölskylda varðveitir. Synir mínir, ef þú ert að lesa þessa bók, þá er ég vil að þú til að lesa það allt. Þar eru margir hlutir sem við höfum falinn frá þér, sem foreldra. Við veist ekki hvort þið tveir munu nokkru sinni fyrirgef okkur.’
I didn’t get it! Luke’s mom had written her journal in English, hadn’t she? Why couldn’t Luke’s dad have done the same?
‘Þar sem þú ert að halda þessari bók, getur þú örugglega ráð fyrir að ég dauður. Ég hafa hreif það að endurgera, þegar ég dey. Ég aetla ad brenna þessa bókí framan Lúkasi, svo að enginn getur fundið það fyrr en eftir ég hafa látist. Þú eru hluti af fjölskyldu okkar, ekki gleyma skyldur þínar. Mundu, hvað sem þú gerir, ég mun alltaf elska þig.
Ást, Daddio.’
The only comprehensive things in the passage were the words White, Lúkasi and Daddio. Luke had told me he called his father Daddio, and Lúkasi was probably Icelandic for ‘Luke’
Frustrated, I flipped past the pages, trying to find something in the English script.
What I found; wasn’t very helpful, though.
‘Nafn hennar var Jade Charette. Ég veit hvað þú ert að hugsa ...’
Jade Charette. Wasn’t that the pureblood who had…?
Oh lords, the page had information about their murderer! I wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to be able to understand the language.
I flipped towards the end, annoyed.
‘Við munum nefna Sarah Nightingale hennar. Hún verður hylkið fyrir Sharon er sál…’
Wait…was that—?
I reread the sentence about a zillion times, to confirm it. There was no mistaking it—my name was in there.
Sarah Nightingale.
The words stared back at me like neon green on pink. They didn’t only hurt the eyes, but looked hideous in that handwriting, on that paper.
In the sense, that it gave me a heinous feeling.
I wasn’t even born at that time! What was my name doing in Luke’s father’s journal?
It couldn’t be a coincidence…it was my full name.
And, right there…right next to it.
The name stabbed me like a dagger:
‘Sharon’
I wondered what that meant. More importantly, I couldn’t understand why our names were side by side.
Annoyed, I shut the journal and tossed it aside.
Internet; I thought, shutting my eyes I need modern technology.
My phone…
The obvious thing to do was to load a translator—but then I realized that the Icelandic script wasn’t the same as the English one. Plus, I had no idea of how the words ought to be pronounced.
I wanted to break my skull against a wall…and just pass out for all eternity.
Why was it so hard to try to help Luke? Why were his problems so complicated? Why couldn’t I make his life easier, for a change?
I had never felt so helpless before—dad had always been there. If not him, then Luke had surely…
I closed my eyes.
Luke’s PC!
I rushed to the system, only to realize that I didn’t know his password.
Then, there was only one option.
I jumped off the other side of the bed, and looked under the frame. Hoping I could somehow wrench it open, I pulled down the hydraulic lift, only to realize—it wasn’t Luke’s box. If I remembered clearly, Luke’s box had carvings around the hand print. This one, though, didn’t.
I looked around the room carefully for the first time, ever since I had walked in.
The room…wasn’t the same. I opened up the bathroom door and bam—it was blue, not cream.
Confused beyond compare, I walked out of the room.
My confusion melted away to stupidity. How had I wound up in Derek’s room, thinking it was Luke’s?
I looked over my shoulder, again, at the bed. There was a grey twig among the dishevelled sheets.
They often say; curiosity kills the cat.
I picked up the twig, gently, between my two fingers because of how delicate it looked. When I let it go on my palm, though, it disintegrated. The change startled me. The piece of twig had crumbled into powder—like ash.
Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but I held my palm to my nose and sniffed it.