Read Awakening (Valkyrie Diaries, #1) Page 6


  Chapter 5

  I drove until I could no longer see straight, almost losing control of the giant vehicle a time or two. Barely having my license to begin with, I was proud that I got us out of there in one piece with only a few dings and scrapes along the way. Parking under a large oak tree, I had no clue where on earth we were, and Mason still hadn't said a word.

  "I see lights up ahead; I think it's a neighborhood. This area, wherever it is, still has power. We'll crash here for a bit and regroup. You must be hungry and thirsty; you haven't eaten in hours." No response, he merely sat there and stared straight ahead.

  Getting out of the car, I went around and opened Mason's door, stepping up to get right in his face. "Dangit, Mase; you've got to snap out of this funk! It's really starting to scare me." Nothing.

  Sighing, I unbuckled the seatbelt and tried to pry his hands open. I stopped because in order to remove the backpack straps from him, I'd have to break his fingers. Tossing him back over my shoulder, I realized I'd just have to carry him. He was a tough, little guy; he'd wake up soon enough, I was sure of it.

  It didn't take me long to make it to the source of the lights. I'd been wrong before, it wasn't a neighborhood, just a sole farmhouse with every light in the house blazing brightly. I could hear Dad now lecturing us about leaving the lights on and running up the electric bill. When you leave a room, turn off the lights. He said that to us about a zillion times a day. God, I missed his lectures. I should have been a better daughter, instead of the brat I usually had been. Enough of that, I don’t have the time to feel sorry for myself.

  As I stepped up onto the old, wooden porch, it creaked under my weight. I listened cautiously before entering through the front door. Feeling certain that there wasn't anyone else around, I went inside. The odor inside the house reminded me of my grandparents' place, slightly stuffy with a hint of mothballs thrown in.

  I sat Mason down on the old, floral couch in the living room and then went to see what I could find in the kitchen. I should have grabbed my duffle bag full of canned goods. Faced with those crazy women, I'd been too freaked out to think about food, though.

  Opening the refrigerator was a massive mistake, the onslaught of reeking, rotting food assaulted my senses like a punch in the face. Raiding the pantry next, I found a couple cans of baked beans, some chicken noodle soup, beef stew and a case of bottled water. Everything else was inedible. I looked around the kitchen looking for a can opener and not finding one in sight, not surprising seeing as everything else in this kitchen appeared to be old school. Mom would have a fit, she adored her Kitchen Aid mixer and Cuisinart food processor. I could hear her now. Kylie, she would say, you can never go wrong buying a anything Kitchen Aid or Cuisinart, you can’t kill them. My Grandmother had a Cuisinart food processer she'd had for thirty years and that thing was still going strong. I should have shown more interest in those kinds of things. I sighed then refocused, tearing through the drawers in the kitchen and taking out a spoon after finally finding a manual can opener, I quickly used it to open the beef stew. After swiping two bottles of water, I went back to where I'd put Mason, finding him sitting exactly how I'd left him.

  "Mase, here; I found some beef stew." Spooning out a chunk of meat, I held it up to his mouth. "Please eat this." After a few seconds he surprised me by opening his mouth and chewing the mouthful I'd quickly shoveled in before he could change his mind. "That's it! How about a sip of water to wash it down with." He let me hold it to his lips for only a second then quickly took the bottle from my hand.

  Sighing, I sat back on the couch, smiling. Everything else could go to hell in a hand basket—to use a phrase my grandmother always used to describe the current state of the world—as long as I had my brother. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing another person in my life. He was my whole world now.

  "Kylie, I think I'm losing it," Mason spoke for the first time since the incident.

  "No, you’re not! I won't let you." I faced him with a stern look so he knew I meant business.

  "That thing that tried to kill you, he was, um…"

  "Yeah, I know; the scariest thing. Ever."

  "You. Killed. Him." I nodded dazedly because it still freaked me out that I'd actually taken a life and liked it. "I'm glad you killed him." I tried to smile reassuringly, only to fail miserably. "What's happening?"

  "I don't know," I replied, shaking my head.

  "No, I mean, what's happening to you? You looked different."

  "Did I?"

  His head bobbed up and down emphatically. "You still do." He reached out and touched my left temple then, as if tracing something. His index finger slid down to my cheekbone. "Go look." He pointed behind me.

  Turning, I saw that he was pointing to the mirror that was mounted over the old, brick fireplace. Slowly, I stood, walked over and stepped up on the hearth to peer at my reflection. Turning my face to the side, I realized that he had been tracing something a moment ago. I had what appeared to be a tattoo that very much resembled a claw mark, as if a large animal had raked his claws across my temple to rest right beneath my left eye.

  At first I thought maybe the Slasher had done this, however I knew he hadn't because, when I felt it, the skin wasn't broken. Besides that, if he had, my whole face would be burning like fire. Thinking of the Slasher, I was reminded of the injury he'd caused to my thigh.

  Sitting down on the hearth, I stuck my hands through the tear on my jeans and tore it open wide. My hand then rubbed the dried blood away from the wound site without causing the least bit of pain. It was obvious that I'd been cut, but the wound was already scabbed over. Strange.

  When I glanced up, Mason was staring at me. "Something is definitely happening to you, Kylie. You're morphing or somthin'."

  "This isn't one of your video games, Mase; people don't morph into anything in real life."

  He glared at me in complete astonishment by my denial. "People don't disappear and white faced zombies aren't in real life either! But hey, I'm just a dumb kid, so what do I know?" The old Mase was back, and even though he wasn't 'morphing' as he referred to it, he was changing, becoming more calloused. The look in his eyes wasn't that of a twelve-year-old any longer, but that of a much older boy. Life had happened to us, altering us forever.

  Dropping my face into my hands, I tried to think. What would Mom do if she were here? I couldn't come up with anything, worrying me that I was starting to forget her. No! I would never forget her or the way she raised me to be. It was crazy how you lived your entire teenage life running from the rules and parameters set by our parents and then, when those rules or parameters no longer existed, you went searching for them.

  Lifting my head, I blew out a deep breath. "I need a shower."

  "So take one," Mason mumbled around a mouthful of stew.

  "You mind sitting outside the door while I take it? I think it would be best if we stayed close to each other from now on." Standing, I reached down and grabbed my pack that Mason had finally released from his grasp.

  "Yeah, okay." Mason stood and followed me up the stairs as we went searching for the bathroom. "You think we should cut off all these lights? Dad would have a fit, ya know?"

  We both burst out laughing. It felt good. "Yeah, I thought about that, too. Unfortunately, turning all the lights off would draw more attention to this place and at this point, the less attention, the better."

  Ducking my head into the first room we came to at the top of the stairs, I said, "Well, I guess this is it." The badly wallpapered room smelled slightly of mold. Mason wrinkled up his nose; he could smell it as well. "I'll be fast. If you could just hang out right here, I should be able to hear if anything goes awry." He swallowed hard, neither one of us liked that idea at all.

  He tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood. "I guess if I get attacked while you're in there, you'll morph into fangy claw chick, huh?" He half laughed then slid down the wall to sit and wait for me.

  I chose to j
ust let that lie. "Be out in a minute."