Heroes of Falledge Book One: Black Hellebore (2 page)

"Julianna," he grumbled.

"It's been ten years, Nick." She made no move to step closer to him and stood about five rows away.

"It's Nicholas." He crossed his arms so tightly his muscles budged against the tight sleeves of his shirt.

Julianna raised her eyebrows. "Why now,
Nicholas
? She died in June, not October."

He turned around so his back faced her. "Don't you think that if I wanted to talk to you I would have sought you out?"

"I'm just trying to understand what happened. What you went through, what she went through. She was my sister and I came to learn, after she died, she wasn't at all the person I thought she was."

The pleading quality in her voice tugged at his heart, but he couldn't bear to look at her. For the first year after Justina's death, he had raged against God, angry and bitter, wishing Julianna had died in Justina's stead. What kind of a person did that make him? He had done the twins a huge disservice, and seeing Julianna after so much time buried him in an avalanche of guilt.

"Please," she begged.

He never thought she would come here tonight, would put the pieces together. Why he hadn't thought that possible, he realized now was stupid. Both girls had been quite bright.

"I want to know what happened, why she--"

"Not now," he said.

"Then when, Nick?"

He bristled, certain she used the nickname on purpose to grate on him. He hadn't allowed anyone to refer to him as "Nick" since her death.

"How do I know you won't leave and not come back again until another ten years have passed?" she pressed. Julianna stepped forward. Nicholas stiffened, but she walked passed him and knelt beside her sister's grave. She picked up a few of his petals, letting them fall between her fingers back onto the grass. "You've come back before, haven't you?"

"Every year," he admitted begrudgingly, not willing to go into more detail, feeling as if he had shared a secret he shouldn't have.

After a long moment of silence, Julianna stood and brushed the dirt from her hands. She faced him. He had forgotten her height. Maybe five seven, five eight. Still a good deal shorter than his own six foot two. "Why don't you come back to my place? It's right next to my parent's. I can make you breakfast and we can talk and--"

He shook his head repeatedly. "I have to get going."

"Driving off on that death trap," she said, suddenly harsh. "Drive until you die, isn't that what you used to say?"

Nicholas was surprised she remembered. He hadn't even owned a bike back then, just a rusted beater car. Sold it shortly after Justina's death and used the money to buy this bike. It got him much better gas mileage. One day, he still hoped to upgrade it to his dream model -- the one he and Justina had planned on driving until they died.

"Yes," he said, so much bitter anger in that short word. He stalked away.

"You can't drive away from the past!"

Maybe not, but Nicholas intended to drive away from here.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to leave immediately. Instead, he slowly rode down the lonely roads, with no destination in mind, as if he wanted to memorize every building. As if he never planned on returning. A good bit of time had passed since he left the cemetery when Nicholas rode by his old house, and Julianna's. She was outside, working on a small garden. Luckily she didn't look up and see him.

Now he couldn't wait to leave, but once he reached the edge of town, he pulled off to the side of the road. His eyes, the traitors, were closing, and if he attempted to drive much farther, he would risk getting into an accident.

There hadn't been much traffic on the road, and Falledge housed a rather tame crowd. He doubted anyone would attempt to steal his bike. Besides, the sound of a pin falling was loud enough to wake him up.

Nicholas halted beside the road. He leaned against a tree. Within seconds of closing his eyes, he was asleep.

Chapter Three

The house was small, with two bedrooms and one bath, yet it was still bigger than his parent's had been.

The woman Perry wrung her hands. "I know it isn't much..." she said.

Nicholas shrugged. Foster parents were all the same -- they pretended to care about you, but they didn't. None of them. He should know. He'd been bounced around long enough to know it was true.

The man cleared his throat. "Dinner will be in an hour. If there's anything you need, anything at all, just let us know, okay?"

Nicholas nodded and walked into the room. The bed looked comfortable, covered with dark green sheets. He opened the top drawer of the bureau. Boxers, underwear, and socks. The second held shirts in several sizes. The last had some shorts and jeans. Were they meant for him? Huh. The clothes weren't really his style, not that he cared about how he looked, but they were clean. The last house he had lived in -- the Carter's -- there hadn't been enough clean clothes. Or food. He had been hungry all the time, and when he got hungry, he tended to get cranky. When he got cranky, he got into fights with Paul. He'd been a prick. Nicholas was glad he had been the one to be rehoused instead of Paul. Let him fight to get more scraps.

The scent of Italian cooking crept into his room, and his mouth drooled. The Perrys seemed poor, or at least not well off, and he hoped there would be enough to go around. That is, if it tasted as good as it smelled. Mrs. Staton hadn't been able to cook a good meal. She even burned canned soup.

He walked over to the desk. Never had one before. Did kids really sit at one to do their homework? Maybe he would actually do some for this school. Never bothered to before. Never stuck around at a place long enough to bother to care before.

A small window sat above the desk. He opened it so a soft breeze billowed the green curtains and peeked out. A young blond, about thirteen, rode a bike on the road. She jerked the wheel to the left and pumped her legs, her hair flowing back behind her as she came to a stop beneath his window. Hopping down, she waved at him, her blue eyes shining. "Hiya, I'm Justina. Wanted to welcome you to Falledge. How ya like the Perrys? They're good people. They've been wanting to adopt for so long..." She grinned, her white teeth dazzling.

Nicholas started to smile back until he remembered his own teeth were probably far from white. Foster parents didn't care if the kids they took in brushed their teeth, and he couldn't remember the last time he had. So he waved instead. "Hi, Justina, I'm Nicholas."

"Hey, Nick. Wanna go for a ride?"

No one ever called him "Nick." He had even gotten into fights over it before. But somehow, when she said it, it seemed to fit him. As much as he wanted to go for a ride with her, he had to decline. "I don't have a bike."

"Sure you do. A bunch of the townspeople chipped in so you could have anything you might want. There're balls and bats and mitts and a bike and helmet and a bunch of other stuff. It's probably in the garage." Justina pouted, as if a sour thought crossed her mind. "Unless you don't wanna go for a ride with me..."

Nick blurted, "I do!"

Her lips curled into a wide smile. "So what are you waiting for? Climb out the window, and let's go!"

He hesitated. Normally he did whatever he wanted, but the Perrys didn't seem half bad, and if the town actually helped them, and him, maybe this place wouldn't be quite so bad either. But they were making dinner for him...

Hadn't Mr. Perry said it would be ready for an hour? Justina seemed friendly. And she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Nick climbed out the window. Justina grabbed his hand, left her bike behind, and they ran to the garage. It was filled with so much stuff Nick's jaw dropped. This was all for him?

Justina dug out the bike and wheeled it to him. "Ready to go?" she asked with a glint in her eye.

Nick nodded.

She snickered. "Want your helmet?" she asked, tilting her head toward it on the shelf.

A helmet hadn't tamed her golden hair, so he shook his head. "Naw, I'm good. Where to?"

Justina smiled recklessly. "That's for me to know. You'll see soon enough!"

She had a breathtaking smile. From that moment on, Nick did whatever he could to make her smile.

*****

Something jabbed into his ribs. Groaning, Nicholas opened his eyes and blinked against the bright sun. A form loomed in front of his vision, and it took his eyes a few seconds to recognize it.

He groaned and closed his eyes again. "Leave me alone."

She poked him again. "Get up. You're coming with me."

"I'm not going with you anywhere, Julianna." He stood and rested one hand onto the seat of his bike.

Instead of his ribs, she poked his stomach this time. "You need more meat on your bones."

Nicholas lifted his shirt to reveal his abs. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Really?"

Julianna rolled her eyes and yanked his shirt down. "You're not gonna get far on that tank of gas, not even on a motorcycle."

He hated that she was right. Crossing his arms, he leaned against his bike. "I'll be fine."

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Fine?" she echoed. Then she sighed and waved her arms around. "Where are you running... Where do you live now?"

"Wherever I can find work."

She dropped her jaw. "You don't have a steady job? Or a place to live?"

"Nope." Her reaction didn't faze him. So he was a nomad. So he drifted from place to place. Who cared? He didn't. Never stayed in one place long enough to grow roots. Moss couldn't touch him.

"How far do you want to go?" she asked quietly.

"At least fifty miles."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Julianna tapped her foot, the soft demeanor she'd just started to show gone already, replaced with cool calculation. "You didn't leave the gas station in such a hurry because of me--"

"Yes, I did."

"You didn't have any money for gas."

Nicholas closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the pity in her eyes. There was nothing he hated more than pity.

Her smooth hand grabbed his, and he felt her shove something into his hand. He refused to curl his fingers around it, knowing without opening his eyes it was money, and he dropped it to the ground. He knew his hazel eyes were flashing as he glowered at her. "I don't accept handouts. Sorry."

To his surprise, the corners of her lips twitched upward for a second before she sighed. "A late breakfast, please. At least let me make you some food."

Nicholas hesitated, but his hunger decided for him. He was starving. If he didn't accept her offer, who knew when he would eat next? "Fine. Thanks."

"Good."

He retrieved the fallen money and forced it into her hand before following her back to her place. It was strange to see her living here, next to her parents. It was even stranger to not see Justina's smiling face peeking out from her window.

Julianna's place was small but well-kept. She ushered him into the kitchen, and he sat at the table set for two. He watched her back as she cooked them food, listened to her hum a tune. She moved with fluid grace. Justina had never bothered to learn how to cook; she'd preferred to bake. It was a wonder he hadn't ballooned to over three hundred pounds when they had dated.

Soon, a large stack of french toast and sausage links were piled on a plate in the middle of the table. "Help yourself," Julianna said as she placed a glass of orange juice in front of him.

Nicholas dug in and used the excuse of eating to avoid talking. As if sensing his mood, Julianna didn't speak either, but he could feel the heat of her gaze on him. Instead of his inhaling his food as he normally did, he ate a little slower and made sure not to drop any syrup onto her white tablecloth -- although who used white tablecloths? Didn't strike him as smart.

He chewed his last bite about forty times before swallowing. Hands on the table, he pushed back his chair, stood, and walked the dirty dishes to the sink. He turned on the water and waited for it to get hot.

"You don't have to wash them," Julianna said, coming up behind him.

"My way of saying thanks," he said. As much as he wanted to dart out of the room and flee and never see her again, he couldn't bring himself to be rude. "Sorry," he muttered.

"For what?" she asked, the surprise in her voice evident.

"For being a jerk yesterday."

"Early this morning," she corrected with a smile.

He stared at her lips for a second before returning to doing dishes. His heart skipped beats when she talked because she shared Justina's voice, but her smile was different from her twin's. It took longer to develop and didn't seem as wide. Or as happy.

Julianna was right -- she did deserve answers, but they would tarnish her memories of her sister. He didn't want to do that. Julianna loved her twin, thought her sister could do no wrong despite being a troublemaker and a daredevil. Julianna followed the straight and narrow path, or at least she had when he had known her.

He snuck another glance at her as she took a plate he had just rinsed and dried it. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and her blond hair was in a messy bun. Confectioner's sugar dusted her cheek.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine she was Justina.

Nicholas drew in a deep breath. She smelled of lavender.

Justina always smelled of strawberries.

His shoulders slumped.

"I think of her all the time," Julianna whispered. She stared straight ahead out the window over the sink. "I'll never stop missing her."

Nicholas grunted and savagely wiped a fork clean. "Thank you for the food."

She sighed. "You're welcome."

"It was delicious. Never had anything like it before. A new recipe?" He held out the utensil.

"Yes." Julianna glared at the fork as if it offended her before ripping it from his hand.

"Did I taste peanut butter in it?" He started to clean a greasy knife.

"Yes. Now are you done trying to change the subject?"

Nicholas' lips twitched involuntarily. "Nope."

She threw her drying cloth down onto the counter and whirled around to him. Fire flashed in her eyes, making her seem more alive than she had in the graveyard, than earlier when she had woken him, than when she had sat across from him at the table.