The Light and Fallen (18 page)

Samara blushed as his eyes returned to her
face. Their naked intensity made her feel undressed, and she
shivered involuntarily. His look sparked a giddy sense of danger,
and made her heart race as if she were walking along the edge of a
precipice. A cold blast of December air brought her back to reality
and she grabbed her jacket from the hook beside the door. "Mom,"
she called. "I'm leaving."

Dina appeared in the entrance to the living
room and Jack stepped forward to meet her. He smoothly extended his
hand and met her eyes without a hint of nervousness. "Jack Stone,"
he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Dina looked over
Jack's shoulder as she shook his hand and caught Samara's eye.

She gave Dina a small smile that was meant to
be reassuring and pulled on her jacket. "I'll be back later. Don't
feel like you have to wait up."

"Okay," Dina said, "but don't stay out too
late. The weather is supposed to get bad tonight."

"I promise I'll take care of her," Jack
reassured her. "She's one of a kind."

Samara wrapped her hand around Jack's cold
fingers, and together they stepped out into the cold. The wind
gusted around her with such force that she wondered if it would
support her if she leaned against it. Jack kept her hand in a tight
grip as he guided her down the steps to his car, a bright spot in
the gray winter landscape. She was relieved to settle into the warm
leather seats and shut out the cold.

She watched Jack though the windshield as he
walked around the car, and she couldn't help thinking about the
night of Homecoming.
So similar
, she thought, as she took in
Jack's strong build and handsome face,
yet so different
. She
felt a pang of longing for Lucian that took her breath away. She
yearned to be in his faded truck listening to classical music while
his thumb traced the contours of her hand.

What am I doing?
she thought. She
fought back the sudden urge to run into the house and hide under
the covers. Jack slammed his car door, and the sound jerked her
back to the present. She forced her lips into a smile and leaned
toward him across the console. "Let's go!"

Jack pulled into a long, circular driveway
filled with cars. It curved up to the front of an elegant white
mansion that towered over its neighbors. The house looked like it
was at least three stories high, and the lights glowing from every
window chased away the early evening darkness. He parked at the end
of the drive and chuckled at Samara's shocked expression. "Not what
you expected?"

"It looks like the entire school is here,"
she gasped. As she watched the front door of the house opened and
revealed a throng of students inside, and she could see shadowy
silhouettes moving through the upper floor windows. "Whose house is
this?"

Jack gave her a repentant look. "I have a
confession to make."

Samara continued staring at the house through
the windshield. Anxiety flooded her chest as she contemplated the
scene. She had tried to get into the mindset of a party, but this
was beyond any of her expectations. "What kind of confession?"

"Well…," Jack said, drawing out his words,
"this is mine."

"What do you mean yours?" she asked. She
stared at him, uncomprehending.

"This is my house." He smiled at her
encouragingly, but she didn't respond. "I live here."

Samara wasn't sure what to say. The entire
situation felt completely surreal, as if she were trapped in a
dream. "So this is
your
party?"

"Yes. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"I'm just trying to understand," she said.
She spoke slowly, choosing each of her words with care. "So you
invited me to a party, that is actually your party, at your great,
big, enormous house."

"Correct," Jack nodded.

"And then you left your own party to come and
pick me up?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I could have
driven here myself."

"But would you?" Jack asked. He gave her a
knowing look. "I was afraid if I told you it was my party you would
change your mind and not show up, and I wanted you to come."

"I might've come," Samara admitted, "but I
probably would've gotten to the driveway and then turned around and
gone back home."

"That's what I thought," Jack said. "I know
this can be intimidating, especially if you're alone." He reached
over and slid her hand over his right arm. "But tonight you're not
alone." He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You're with me."

They walked up the driveway with Samara's
hand threaded through Jack's arm. As they neared the house she
could see a huge evergreen wreath on the front door and evergreen
garlands hanging over the many windows. Jack pulled her a little
closer as they walked up the front steps, and he reached for the
front door. "Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be." She took a deep breath and
braced herself as they stepped through the door. She expected to
feel eyes on her, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that no
one paid any attention to their entrance.

"Do you want a drink?" Jack asked. He took
her coat and hung it inside a small closet beside the front
door.

Samara nodded as she looked around the
massive entry and up the gracefully curving staircase that led to
an open second floor. "This is an amazing house."

"Thanks," Jack said. "Although it actually
belongs to Desiree.

"Speak of the devil," he added, as one of the
most stunning women Samara had ever seen approached. She was
wearing a runched, red cocktail dress with long sleeves and a very
short skirt, and her cutout heels made her only slightly shorter
than Jack. She carried herself with the confidence of an older
person, but her face was unlined, making her age impossible to
guess.

"Did someone mention the devil?" she drawled
as she stopped in front of them. She crossed her arms and gave
Samara an openly appraising look before she snapped her eyes toward
Jack. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"This is the lovely Samara Haye," he said,
raising their joined hands. "And this," he said, "is my guardian,
Desiree Stihls."

"Your guardian?" The words caught Samara's
attention and took her by surprise. "You have a guardian too?"

"Indeed." Jack wrapped his free arm around
Desiree's waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. "The best in the
world."

Desiree shook Jack's hand off with annoyance
and turned to Samara. "I've heard a lot about you," she said. "And
I must say, you're everything I expected." She gave Samara a
brilliant smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she turned
her back on them both and disappeared among the guests.

Samara turned to Jack with a quizzical look.
"Is she okay with you having this party? She seems a little
upset."

"It's not the party," he said. He guided her
through the crowded living room and into the kitchen. Samara waited
for him to elaborate, but instead he led her over to a deep sink
filled with ice and an assortment of bottles and cans. He thrust in
both hands and pulled out a soda and a bottle of beer and held them
both toward her. "What would you like?"

Samara reached for the soda and Jack dropped
the beer back into the sink and fished out a second soda for
himself. "You don't drink?" he asked.

Samara shook her head as she looked around
the kitchen. Its gleaming counters were already littered with empty
bottles and trash, and she could see a row of ice chests
surrounding the island, providing a sharp contrast to the polished
elegance of the house. "I guess I don't have enough things I want
to forget," she shrugged.

She felt Jack's hand gently touch her waist,
and she let him guide her through the living room and up the wide
stairs to the second floor. As they walked together Jack stopped
often to greet his guests: classmates, members of the football
team, even one of the younger teachers. He gave each one his full
attention for a moment, and Samara watched them light up as he
showered them with flattery and interest, but always, he returned
to her side.

She could sense a ripple of interest sweep
the room as they climbed the stairs, and could see small groups of
girls put their heads together and glance in her direction. She
instinctively pressed a little closer to Jack and felt his nose
nuzzle her ear as he turned his face into her hair. "Ignore them,"
he whispered.

The second floor was just as crowded as the
first. Everywhere Samara looked, she saw people that she knew. She
tried to smile and make conversation, but the sensation of Jack's
hand resting lightly on her hip was becoming distracting, and her
fingertips were freezing, as if all of her warmth was being pulled
inwards, toward the center of her body.

She stepped away from him and leaned against
the curved railing that overlooked the first floor and stared down
at the scene. A sparkling tree dominated the room. Its top reached
beyond the edge of the balcony and brushed against the vaulted
ceiling of the living room. It was completely covered with white
lights and emanated a faint, spicy fragrance. Beside the tree a
large open fireplace was blazing, and she could see a few boys
roasting giant marshmallows on metal skewers. The whole space was
massive and filled with groupings of expensive looking furniture.
The front door opened and closed constantly as people arrived late
or exited to smoke on the front steps.

Her skin prickled as she skimmed the room,
and her eyes rested on Desiree. She was standing apart from
everyone else, lounging against the wall with a glass of wine in
her hand, arms and ankles crossed. She stood out from the crowd in
her red dress, and she was looking straight at Samara. When she
caught her eye, Desiree didn't look away or even blink. Her relaxed
posture was the picture of indolent boredom, but her eyes burned
with hatred. She stood perfectly still, ignoring a group of
giggling girls that blundered by and nearly bumped her elbow, and
Samara shuddered at the raw hostility in her stare.

Then Jack was beside her. He followed her
gaze over the balcony to the floor below and made an angry sound in
the back of his throat. Desiree looked up at them both, then raised
her glass contemptuously and disappeared from view.

"Okay," Samara said, feeling a little shaken.
"Is it my imagination, or does she seem to really dislike me?"

"She's just a little temperamental, but I
don't want you to worry about it." Jack rubbed her shoulders
reassuringly. "Come on."

They maneuvered down a wide hallway lined
with dark paneled doors on each side. Some were standing open,
revealing even more people, while others remained closed. Jack
stopped in front of one of the last closed doors and pulled a ring
of keys out of his pocket. He flipped quickly through the keys,
passing over several that looked shiny and new, and stopped on one
that appeared burnished with age. He slipped the key into the lock
and Samara heard a thunk as he turned it to the right.

The door swung open to reveal a small room
lined with bookshelves. The ceiling and the parts of the wall that
could be seen were draped with gold brocade, and the floor was
covered with a plush carpet. The bookshelves framed a large plate
glass window and a deep window seat directly across from the door.
The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a rolling
ladder attached to a rail that circled the tops of the shelves, and
a low walnut table piled with books.

Jack flipped a switch beside the door and the
room was flooded with soft light that came from the tops of the
bookcases. Samara's feet sank into the carpet as she took her first
step into the room. "Wow," she said. "This is amazing."

She spun in a circle and tried to take in the
sheer number of volumes. A few looked like newer hardbacks, but
most of them had peeling leather spines with faded metallic
lettering. She stepped closer to one of the shelves and was
surprised to see an entire row of Bibles in a variety of sizes and
in various states of decay. "These books look ancient. How old are
they?"

She turned around, searching the room for
Jack, and saw him sitting on the window seat. He ignored her
question and patted the cushion beside him. "Come, sit with
me."

Samara moved toward the window. Beyond the
house she could see a large, shadowy garden. The only outdoor light
came from the other windows of the house itself, and from this view
there was no evidence that there were any other houses nearby. They
sat across from each other, leaning against the edges of the window
frame. The door to the study was open and she could see people move
past the door and hear bursts of laughter from down the hall, but
they seemed to be coming from a different world.

Jack was studying her again, his face full of
curiosity. "What do you think?" he asked.

Samara propped her arm behind her ear and
rested her head against it. "Of what?"

"Of everything. The house, the party,
me…."

"Well," she said slowly. "The house is kind
of unbelievable, considering that I've lived here for the past
twelve years. I never even noticed it. I don't even know what to
say about the party, except that your guardian is a little
scary."

She paused as Jack gave a low chuckle. "And
what about me?" he asked. His eyes were fixed on her, as if he were
trying to penetrate through all her defenses, and she thought she
saw a flicker of heat in his eyes.

"I don't know." She looked out the window
into the sky. Dark clouds were beginning to roll in and cover the
moon, and she could see mist falling into the garden. "I'm not sure
what to think about you."