Silence: Part Two of Echoes & Silence (72 page)

I swung my door wide and readied myself to push Jason’s open, too—perhaps pull Sam and the pillow off him—but as I pressed my ear to Jason’s door, I could still hear only one heartbeat. One fast beat.

I listened around the house and finally felt Sam’s energy in the kitchen, my eyes moving then to the clock on the wall by the stairs.

What was he doing up at six in the morning?

“Sam?” I whispered, tiptoeing into the kitchen.

He looked up from a plate of toast where he stood by the sink. “Hey, sis. S’the baby awake already?”

“No. I…” I just thought you were killing Jason. I shook my head at myself. How could I be so silly? I’d been so caught up in the supernatural world for so long that I would actually believe my human little brother was capable of murder. “David woke me as he left,” I lied. “I decided to come get coffee.” I walked over and picked up the kettle. “So what are you doing up so early?”

“School,” he stated with a mouthful of toast. “First day back.”

“Is it that time already?” I looked out the window as if that might show the date.

“Time moves on, you know.” He stuffed the toast between his teeth, picked up his plate and his cup of juice, and went to sit at the table.

I filled the kettle and put it on to boil, listening for a moment to see if Elora had stirred. She hadn’t, so I took out a mug and the sugar, and dug around in the cupboards for the instant coffee.

“Morning,” said a very hesitant voice.

Sam and I both looked up to the slightly older-looking version of David standing in the entranceway by the kitchen, wearing pyjamas, not the clothes David put him to bed in. He lingered there, his shoulders high, waiting for an invitation.

“Morning, Jase,” I said casually, turning back to the cupboards.

“Morning,” Sam said, and that one word carried enough of an apology that I knew Jason suddenly felt comfortable to come in.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked, finally finding the coffee.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He rubbed his face with both hands, yawning.

I stopped. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him yawn before.

“What?” he asked self-consciously. “Do I have bad breath?”

I laughed; so did Sam.

“No.” I walked over to grab another mug. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Instant?” he asked, eyeing the tin on the counter, one brow raised.

I glanced back at it. “Um, yeah.”

“Love one,” he said with a smile, sitting down on the stool at the counter. “So, why are you all up so early?” He half-looked back at Sam, then turned away.

“I got school,” Sam said with his mouth full.

“You go to school at six a.m.?”

“Nah.” Sam shrugged. “I like to get ready early then watch cartoons.”

“Which ones?” Jase asked, spinning around to face Sam. “Cartoons, I mean.”

I could tell Sam still harboured a little hostility, but he was trying to squash it out and remember the things I’d told him about Jason—the good. “I usually watch Cartoon Network—whatever’s on at the time.”

Jase was sitting in a bit of a slouch, the bones in his spine showing through his white t-shirt, but the way his shoulder sunk down on one side and the way his head moved, I could tell even from behind him that he smiled. “In hospital, there wasn’t much to do before the sun came up. Early riser.” He pointed to himself. “I think I’ve seen every episode of every show at least twice—maybe more.”

That got a small laugh out of Sam. “Time to get a job then—or go back to school.”

“Too old for school,” Jase said, sitting back a bit.

“You don’t look that old,” Sam offered. “Get a new identity—as David’s younger brother, and go to school. What else are ya gonna do?”

I could tell Jase was thinking about that, considering it all now in a way he hadn’t dared while he was in hospital. “I wouldn’t know… I mean… they had to teach me what a spoon was, and how to tie my laces. I still get things mixed up, and I have no idea what subjects they even study at school.”

“The usual,” Sam said with another shrug. “Math, science. Art—”

“Art?”

“Yeah. You into that?” Sam asked.

“A bit,” Jase admitted. “It’s the only thing I’ve really… connected to since I came to.”

“So why not take art classes then?”

I stayed as quiet as I could, preparing the coffee with the stealthiness of a ninja, not wanting to interrupt this major breakthrough in any way—not just for the sake of the relationship between Sam and Jason, but for Jason now thinking about his future—something I know David said he hadn’t wanted to talk about.

They talked for a bit about what school was like, and Jason had a lot of questions, like a five-year-old asking about high school. He listened with a careful ear and a look of wonder, the conversation continuing around me as I placed a coffee down for Jase, sat and drank mine, and then went upstairs to get Elora and bring her down for her bottle.

I sat in the den, enjoying the peace of early morning, just listening to the gentle chatter going on in the kitchen, until Sam excused himself to go get dressed and Jason wandered in to sit down on the couch beside me. He reached for the coffee table I had my feet on and grabbed the remote.

“Mind if I turn on the TV?”

“Go for it.”

The light from the screen spilled out around the slightly dark room, making Elora and I squint, but as soon as she realised there was something more interesting to look at than me, she spat her bottle out and arched her entire body toward the TV.

Jase laughed, watching her. “TV-head, like her uncle.”

I laughed too, thinking back then to how close he came to actually being her father. But seeing him like this, so young and so human, sitting forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees, in his pyjamas, made me even more glad it was David I ended up with, not Jase. Jase had always been a lot sweeter and kinder than David in a lot of ways, but now he just seemed so much younger. I wasn’t sure I could have loved him this way if he were mine to love.

I sat Elora up in my lap and let her watch TV with Uncle Jase for a while, trying hard to make myself believe that this was my life. David was at work right now, helping humans get off criminal charges. Jason was human, sitting right beside me on the couch, watching cartoons. And my baby was in my lap, chewing my thumb with her two front teeth. It all felt surreal, and yet so perfect I felt a lump in my throat.

Sam skipped down the stairs then, dumped his bag by the door and came into the room, flopping down on the floor by the TV. A while later, Vicki came down too. She paused a moment by the archway, scanned the room, taking it all in, then went into the kitchen to stir up all the sleeping pots and pans.

When the smell of breakfast pushed its way through the house, Jase’s attention turned away from the TV for a moment. He sniffed the air, frowned, and then sniffed again. “What is that?”

“Pancakes,” Sam and I said.

“I know that smell.” Jase got up, laying the remote on the coffee table as he stepped over my legs. “I’ve tasted that before.”

An uneasy feeling thickened my chest. I got up, twisting Elora around so she sat on my hip, and followed Jason into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Vicki said, having found her chirp again.

“Morning,” Jason said, his eyes landing on the plate of pancakes. “Butter. And… syrup,” he said, as though he was proud of himself. “That’s what you put on them, right?”

Vicki looked at her spatula, then the pancakes, then Jason. “You’ve never had pancakes before?”

“He just doesn’t remember,” I said, placing Elora in her chair and strapping her in.

“Well, how many would you like?” she asked, pleased that someone else in this house was clearly going to love her cooking.

“I don’t know.” Jase sat down at the table beside Elora’s chair. “How many do people usually have?”

Vicki and I laughed.

“It depends on how hungry you are,” I said.

“Ara usually eats three.”

“I eat seven,” Sam offered, coming in to sit down. And to our surprise and deep shock, he actually sat next to Jason. “You could probably handle five,” Sam added, taking in Jason’s skinny belly.

“Is that okay?” He looked at Vicki. “Five?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she said, picking up a stack with her egg-flip and loading them onto a plate. “Ara, hand that to Jason, please.”

I leaned across the counter and grabbed the plate, laying it in front of him and then sliding the syrup closer.

“Here,” Vicki said, offering me a plate with a larger stack. “For Sam.”

I handed that one to Sam, who tapped his feet impatiently, waiting for Jason to drown the pancakes in syrup, and then I sat down to watch Jason taste his first bite.

His brows pushed up on his head as he drew the fork away from his lips, and he looked over at Vicki, speaking with his mouth full, “These are good!”

Vicki just smiled and turned back to the stove.

“So we can add pancakes to the list of foods you like?” I said.

“It’s a pretty long list now.” Jase laughed, stuffing his mouth full again. “I don’t know what I liked before, but I bet pancakes were on the top of the list.”

Sam laughed.

I just smiled softly at him, biting my tongue. Blood was actually at the top of the list, with death coming a pretty close second.

“So, have you remembered anything yet?” Sam asked, breathing in the last of his stack then pushing the plate away. “It’s been six-and-a-bit months, right?”

“It has.” Jase nodded, cutting the last piece up into two. “But… I don’t remember anything yet.”

Sam wiped his mouth on the napkin by his plate and put it down again, still chewing. “Ara filled me in last night—on the whole story.”

Vicki spun around, and I sat straighter, tensing a little, hoping Sam wouldn’t say anything he shouldn’t.

“You had it pretty rough,” he added. “And I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

Jase put his fork down on his plate, his gaze landing there as well. “I don’t know what I did—”

“I know,” Sam started. “And I shouldn’a lost it at ya.”

“I appreciate that, Sam. I do. But you had a right to. I did something bad to someone you love, and you defended her. I’d have done the same.”

Sam smiled victoriously over at his mom.

“Things is,” Jase added, “I don’t know anything about this guy I was before. It’s like he’s someone else, and I only know who I am
now
—how
I
feel. And I…” He looked over at me, his green eyes liquid with tears. “I would just never do anything to hurt
anyone
.”

I reached across and laid my hand over his. “I know that, Jase.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam said, standing up. “It was my father’s.”

Jase frowned up at him.

“It’s a long story. Ara can fill you in. I gotta go.”

As Sam exited the kitchen, Vicki and Jason looked at me, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

“Ara?” Jase prompted.

“Eat first,” Vicki said, laying a plate in front of me. “Ara is no good on an empty stomach.”

“Thanks,” I said, for the pancakes and for the save. But Jason just sat there, waiting patiently for me to begin talking. “David said you can have your journals—the current ones.”

“He did?” Jase leaned forward excitedly.

“Mm-hm.” I nodded, even though it was only a half-truth. In fact, he’d merely said, “Hm.” But that could be taken either way, really. He should be more careful with his words. “I’ll go up to the attic and get them after breakfast, okay?”

“But you won’t talk to me about any of it?”

“I will, when you come to me with questions.” I put my fork down. “But you need to be ready for the answers before I give them to you, and you’re only ready once you come up with the questions.”

I saw him run those words over in his mind, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Just read the journals.” I patted his hand. “And we can talk about anything you want after that.”

***

David paced the floor of our bedroom, his black socks making his footsteps quiet, whispering out his frustration so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping baby. I kept looking at his heavy sword, mounted like a decoration on the wall by the door, half expecting him to grab it and cut me.

“David, please stop being so mad. You’re scary when you’re mad.”

“I’m not as mad as I look,” he said, offering me a warm look. “But I said we’d
talk
to him, Ara. You should never have given him those journals without me here.”

“Stop being such a helicopter parent, David. He’s nineteen years old—”

“
Almost
nineteen,” he corrected. “We were turned just shy of our nineteenth, Ara.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s not a child. And you said he could have the journals.” I flopped back on the bed. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”