by Garren, Jax
The angry set of his jaw never changed as his eyes closed. He settled on top of her, his arms curled around her in a clenching embrace.
And he was still.
For a moment the crowd stood around, just breathing.
“Is he out?” Brayden finally asked.
Tally took a tentative step toward him.
“Tally…” LaRoche warned between pain-clenched teeth.
Jolie squirmed. “Okay, I can’t breathe here.” She managed to rotate until Hauk slid on his side. Though still trapped in his arms, she could at least take a full breath. “He let me move. He’s out.” She’d been in crazy-Hauk’s sleep grip of thou-shalt-stay-put before, and she’d stayed put until he let her up. “What were you thinking, attacking him like that?”
Travis answered, “We were thinking of rescuing you from a volatile death machine.”
“You could have gotten yourselves killed.” She sighed. “Thank you.”
Tally pressed two fingers against Hauk’s throat. “His pulse is steady. I think you got it right, babe. Let’s get Jolie extracted. Brayden—”
“Nuh-uh,” Brayden said. “Last time I tried to take her away from passed-out Hauk, I got tossed across the room. I’m not doing that again.”
Tally tried lifting Hauk’s arm and managed to budge it a few inches. “That was when he was normal passed out, not sedated. I’d be shocked if he’s able to respond now.” She grunted. “But he’s still damn heavy.”
LaRoche pushed away from the wall. “It’s my formula. I’ll help.”
While Tally and LaRoche pulled up [he n craon Hauk’s arm to give her some space, Jolie wriggled down his body. “What did you knock him out with?”
LaRoche answered, “He doesn’t respond to normal drugs. I hypothesize that he instantly metabolizes them.”
Jolie squirmed free.
LaRoche sat back down and shook out his black braids, clearing his head. “He’d asked me to design a special formula for him in case, well, in case of an event like this.”
Tally sat next to him, blonde pixie cut and fair complexion a yin-yang to his deep ebony skin as they leaned shoulder to shoulder. Though they worked together on most projects, she was the mechanical genius and LaRoche the chemist. At only sixteen and seventeen, respectively, they were the smartest pair Jolie had ever met.
Tally reached out and stroked Hauk’s arm. She and Hauk seemed to have a soft spot for each other, in a big brother/little sister sort of way. “We’ve never had a reason to test the formula out before. The hope is he’ll progress into his normal healing sleep and wake up like he would from any other rage state, feeling refreshed and miraculously unscathed.” She gave a puckish grin. Hauk had only recently acknowledged his post-rage sleep came with spectacular healing powers, but that grin said Tally had figured it out a while ago.
Hauk had a hard time admitting magic existed, even when he saw it. Even when it was happening to him.
Tally stood and offered a hand down to her boyfriend. “Shall we get him into bed?”
Travis groaned. “Seriously? Carrying duty? Again?”
Jolie snorted. “You want his ass this time?”
“I wouldn’t deny you the pleasure.”
Together, the six of them—Jolie, Tally, LaRoche, Travis, Brayden and Ashley—made quick work of removing Hauk’s jacket and boots and getting him tucked into bed as Jolie told them about the fight at the club.
Once Hauk was installed under the covers, Brayden turned to Travis with a severe expression. “Let me see it.”
“See what?” Jolie asked.
“The inspiration behind this near-suicidal rescue attempt. No offense, but I’m not risking my neck to stop him from cuddling you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jolie said, though she couldn’t blame him.
Travis said, “My laptop’s out of juice, but it’s in Dr. Echelson’s office at the university recharging. We can head up there.”
“You’re talking about one of the videos? What’s on the video?” Jolie asked. “Did you make a shared drive?” If so, they didn’t have to go to the office; her phone would play it. She rubbed her forehead. “Crap. I left my purse at the club.” When she looked back up, Brayden shook it at her. “Oh. Thanks.”
Travis explained how to get to the drive, and Jolie pulled it up on the little screen. Everybody gathered around the phone to see.
The video was black and white and soundless. The interior of a small room, like a dorm almost, with almost no decorations and a locker for clothing. A man in a military T-shirt and camo pants sat in a rumpled bed, writing in a plain notebook. His light-colored hair was Army-regulation short, his shoulders broad and muscular. Tribal tattoos, like Hauk’s but smaller, decorated his right arm. He tilted his face up toward the camera.
Jolie forgot to breathe. Hauk’s eyes stared ou [yese univet of the man’s handsome face.
“Oh my God…” she muttered.
“It’s the fire,” Travis said softly. “The fire. They have a recording of it. This has got to be what they didn’t want us to see.”
“Oh my God,” she said louder. The action on the video was important, but so was this. How she wished the image was in color. Hitting pause, she turned to study the live man on the bed then back to the face on the screen. Unrecognizable.
Hauk’s laugh, boisterous and affable, suited him. His real face was strong but not stark. Defined enough to be masculine but soft enough to be friendly. A face to come home to. “He said he wasn’t a looker,” she said dumbly, still fascinated.
“Yeah,” Ashley said wistfully. “Wesley always did think that. Silly man.”
“This is very interesting,” Brayden said. “But the fire? Travis said he did it.”
That woke her up. “What? Did it? Set the fire?”
“And killed his squad,” Brayden added.
Travis hit Play. The altercation was short but brutal. The men came in, packing the room. Hauk stood and they surrounded him. So much talking at once; she wished she could hear it. They tried to force Hauk to the ground.
The beast took over. There was no hesitance in his motions as he went for one man’s throat then broke another’s leg. He grabbed a coffee pot off a camp stove, slammed it into somebody’s head then grabbed the stove itself.
One of his squadmates got it in the face. The stove dropped to the bed. The sheets caught fire. Hauk reached for the camera and the video ended.
Jolie felt ill.
The room was silent, each person turning to the others as if seeking some explanation for what they’d seen.
But there wasn’t one. Hauk had gone into a rage and killed seven of his friends.
“I have to go,” Ashley said. She turned, twitching like a frightened animal.
Brayden grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
His own face paling, Brayden motioned at the door. “I’m going to…” Taking Ashley’s arm to steady her, he helped her out of the room.
“We’re going to…too,” LaRoche said with a sympathetic glance at Jolie. She nodded.
Tally touched her shoulder. “I think there was more to the story. I don’t know what, but I know Hauk.”
LaRoche squeezed her arm. “We all trust Hauk, Tally. I’m just not sure when he does that that it is Hauk anymore.”
She clenched her jaw stubbornly. “He would’ve hurt Brayden by now.”
LaRoche shook his head. “Brayden’s only seen him like that a couple of times, all when Hauk was in danger.” He turned to Jolie with a curious frown. “Actually, I think Jolie may have seen him enraged more than anyone at this point.”
Travis folded his arms. “That’s because almost everyone who’s seen him like that is dead.”
“Travis,” Jolie said, warning in her tone.
He lifted a hand, pacifying. “Look, I’m not trying to start a fight and I’m not trying to be mean. He would hate himself if he [imssizhurt you. You being around him when he’s like that is dangerous for both of you.”
Tally reached for Hauk’s foot, as if to squeeze goodbye.
LaRoche pulled her back. “Tally…”
She yanked her arm from his and approached the bed. Chin up, she put her hand on Hauk’s toes. Squeezed. He didn’t move. “I trust him.” She took her boyfriend’s arm. “And I trust your formula. Let’s go.”
Taking courage from the departing woman, Jolie sat on the brown quilt next to Hauk. When he still didn’t move, she touched his arm then ran her palm soothingly down it. She’d been so sure there was a piece of him still in there when he raged.
She had also been so sure he was innocent.
Anger was easier than fear, and anger at Ananke she could have aplenty. Hauk didn’t need to hurt her to feel self-loathing; he’d have that as soon as he saw this video. “Why would they care if we know he’s guilty? Seems like that’s something they’d proudly rub our faces in. It makes us mistrustful of our best defensive asset.”
Travis shrugged. “I’ll take another look tomorrow, but I watched every video on the drive. If there’s anything else of interest I didn’t see it.” He took a tentative step toward her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not mad, right? We were worried about you.”
Jolie shook her head. Travis was the messenger, not the problem. “I still think he was just dragging me back here to sleep, like he did last time.”
“But we can’t know that for sure,” Travis said. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. “You staying?” he finally asked.
Jolie nodded. “Yeah. For a while, anyway.”
Travis ducked his head, nodded his acceptance and left, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click.
She pulled her phone back out. Started the video. Once again Hauk’s real face filled the screen and she wanted to hold him, to have that face to see, to kiss.
Unfair though it may be, she had been blinded by appearances. She would’ve realized what they had weeks ago if he still had this face. It was so right, so him.
The violence began again. She tried to watch, hoping to find a clue that would explain his rage, to rationalize it in some way. The seconds of blood ticked by, fueling the sickness in her stomach until he picked up the burner and she couldn’t watch any more. The emotions of the day, the kisses, the stress of being carried back, the alcohol…she couldn’t make sense of it tonight. It wouldn’t even be wise to try.
Instead she examined the room, trying to glean more about the man who’d turned her inside out. She hadn’t been in Hauk’s room since the morning after they’d met, and once again it impressed her with its simple elegance. Like much of The Underlight, everything was handcrafted, often from reclaimed pieces of older things that had been shined up and repurposed. That age gave the room a lived-in, funky feel despite the formal elements. One wall had a weapon collection of shining axes and swords that she now knew were for fun, not work. Bookshelves contained a combination of leather-bound tomes, J.R.R. Tolkien’s collection along with volumes of history and poetry, and one anachronistic shelf of worn paperbacks—Tom Clancy, George R.R. Martin, Neil Gaiman and Piers Anthony.
Next to the fireplace was his ancestor altar. Jolie had gone through a “Pagan phase” back in high [ baldn’ school with a couple of her friends. For Hauk, though, the religion was deeply meaningful, and his ancestor altar was the most important part of his practice. He believed his ancestors were watching out for him.
Either they were doing a crappy job, or…he should’ve died five years ago and they were doing a fantastic job.
Jolie shivered and hopped off the bed to take a closer look. An old pair of glasses, a watch and a cheap china candy dish were watched over by three female figures molded out of metal, probably by Hauk himself. They had the same perfect smoothness and rounded angles that she recognized from the ornament he’d made for her at Yule. In the center of the table were an incense dish and a plate with a piece of biscuit and a few drops of dried coffee.
She checked on Hauk. He still slept quietly. Feeling a little like an invader in his private space, she opened the table’s one little drawer. Inside were incense cones and matches. She dropped a cone into the holder. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to do this or not…” She swished her mouth a few times, debating. “What the hell.” She lit the incense.
Clearing her throat and feeling foolish, she gave a respectful nod to the figurines. “I’m sure Hauk keeps telling you he’s fine. But as you probably figured out, if you actually exist, he’s a big-ass liar.” She stopped. “Can I say ass in front of you? Oh, whatever. He’s a big-ass liar about being fine.” Good grief, she was rambling to a statue. “Hell, I’m bad at this. Okay, so anyway, this is for Hauk. Wesley Aaron Haukon. He doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him, and he’s so damn busy looking after other people, he needs somebody to look after him. I’m trying to. And if you’re helping, I guess that puts us on the same team. So…go team. Jesus H. Christ, I need to quit trying religion.”
Feeling stupid, she turned away and watched the slow rise and fall of Hauk’s chest as he slept. The image was so peaceful it calmed her.
She pivoted back to face the thin line of smoke curling around the statues. “If you’re really there, do something, okay? The last two months have proved to me that magic’s plenty real. So please use it to help him instead of just driving him crazy with it.”
An old phrase Papa Marcel used to say popped into her head: “The Powers That Be help those who help themselves.” She smiled, remembering her grandfather’s dancing brown eyes and wagging finger. It was because of him, and the cancer that took his life, that she’d applied to The University of Texas and moved to Austin to spend the last few months with him before he died.
Put that way, she’d met Hauk becaus
e of him.
“I’m trying, Papa,” she whispered.
Hauk’s bed was comfortable and she was tired, so she considered sliding into it. She had a history of sleeping next to him when he lost his mind.
She was a little afraid, but that was even more reason to do it. Hauk was her best friend. She would not be afraid of him. In the morning, they’d talk. Hopefully they’d both find what they needed to not be fearful anymore.
Chapter Ten
Jolie stirred sugar into her coffee and speed-walked back to the room, praying nobody else would try to stop her. Unsure when Hauk would wake up, she’d slipped out of bed for her morning cuppa, wearing one of Hauk’s T-shirts and her jeans from last night. The night had been calm. She’d woken in H ^)2 Be heauk’s embrace feeling well-rested and surprisingly optimistic.
Of course, the morning she was dying to get back quickly was the morning everybody wanted to stop and have a nice chat. If she wasn’t trying so damn hard to win over the population down here, she’d have breezed right by their greetings with a wave and a smile, but she didn’t want to miss a PR opportunity when people were in charitable spirits. Instead of the five minutes there and back she’d intended, she’d been a good half hour out of Hauk’s room, hoping he didn’t wake up without her.
She had a feeling their conversation would go better if she could start in his bed and in his arms.
Besides, she liked it there.
When the lab door opened and shut with a soft click and that now-familiar angelic golden hair whipped out of sight, she almost didn’t stop to check what Ashley was doing in Tally and LaRoche’s mad-scientist HQ first thing on a Saturday morning.
But was she sticking something in her purse?
Crap. Jolie took a sip of coffee. Took two steps back to the lab. Peeked in.
It was dark. Ashley had gone into the lab when nobody was there and grabbed something out of it? What the hell?
Jolie wanted to get back to Hauk, but the situation felt wrong. She should at least see what Ashley took, and then she could return. Swearing under her breath, she hurried after the girl. Ashley made quick progress through the great room, while Jolie held one conversation with a smile plastered so tightly she was sure it
was both cracking and peeling.
She just managed to follow Ash into the UT garage above and watched as her car pulled out of the lot. Jolie’s car was still at the club. But Hauk’s steambike—his gasoline-free pride and joy that Tally had built for him out of junkyard scraps—was here. He’d forgive her. Right?
Saint Ashley was leaving The Underlight with something she’d liberated from the lab while no one was looking. The girl needed to be followed, and there was nobody else to do it.
Hauk’s ride it was. With a grin, Jolie slammed on his helmet, straddled the bike and shot out of the garage.
* * *
Jolie wasn’t there when Hauk woke up. As he sat in bed, back propped up against the headboard and forearms on his knees, he contemplated her absence. He remembered their fight then walking out into the alley. He’d been so twisted inside he hadn’t sensed the violence until the ambush was on him. Then Jolie’s arrival. She’d been attacked.
And blackout.
Apparently he hadn’t brought her back with him this time. Or if he had, she’d left.
Not that he’d blame her. Memories of their argument crashed around him, making him want to cringe. He’d made an ass of himself, walking away like that. And the things he’d said…
He tapped his forehead against his knees in frustration. Hadn’t she offered him exactly what he’d been dreaming about for two months now? He wanted Jolie more than he’d ever wanted another woman. Gods, some nights he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
Why didn’t he just say “hell-fucking-yes”?
If he’d done that…they’d still have walked out into an ambush, so he’d likely still be waking up from a rage, wondering what happened last night.
But she might be with him.
He could fix this between them. Couldn’t he?
Maybe a better question was, should he? The panic he’d felt yesterday when she’d said she wanted to touch him had been so intense, he’d felt the fight-or-flight instinct rear its irrational head. It had taken all his resolve to stand still instead of backing away.
