I don't own Night World.

Chapter 3

It wasn't long before we were all in Bracken's house, in my mother's old home.

He'd opened the door within several seconds of us ringing the doorbell. He greeted dad warmly, but was a bit more reserved with me, for which I was grateful. He was practically a stranger to me, anyway.

He did smile at me, though. It was the type of smile which made people trust him, because his eyes smiled too.

His eyes were what surprised me the most. I hadn't seen him in so long, that I'd forgotten their colour, but they were exactly the same blue as mine. Same as my mother's.

He politely asked us how the drive was, then helped us carry my things upstairs. They took the two large suitcases, leaving me with my rucksack and guitar case.

He guided us into a room, saying over his shoulder, "Gave me a reason to finally sort out Jez's old room," he said.

I would have known that it was Mum's old room even without the remark. Right next to the bed, there was 'Jez Redfern rocks' etched into the wall. That made me smile.

"I haven't done anything to it since she left the first time," I heard Bracken say carefully.

That sparked my interest, but I held my tongue, knowing that the adults wouldn't answer. I walked up to a circular pin-up board, which still had a load of pieces of paper pinned up on it. I saw dad in the full-length mirror next to it gently put down my suitcase on the bed, though I could tell he was trying not to look at anything too closely.

Bracken seemed to notice this too and said to me, "We'll leave you to get unpacked, Adenah. Come back downstairs when you're ready."

I nodded and he left. Dad followed him quickly. I placed my rucksack on a desk which was against the window, and propped up my guitar in the corner before going back to the pin-up board.

There were various notes, including a couple of birthday and Christmas lists, which obviously she had liked keeping. A couple of pictures of different gorgeous leather jackets and military boots, under a piece of paper which had 'Gang outfits' in capitol letters with about a million question marks.

One note which I laughed out loud at said 'Kill Morgead ASAP'. When I lifted it up there was a picture of a very smashed-up-looking motorbike. Under that picture, though, was one of mum and dad next to the same (I guessed it was the same) motorbike. Next to it was one of them when they were younger than me with Bracken. A few more pictures cut from magazines either featured motorbikes or leather jackets worth about $400 each.

I went back to the desk to open my rucksack, and noticed that there was a North Beach jacket on the back of the chair. I lifted it up carefully, knowing that they were worth an absolute bomb. I rubbed my fingers against the soft leather, then caught sight of the mirror again.

I couldn't help myself. I shot a glance at the door, as if someone – the real owner of the jacket would come in and rip it from my hands – before sliding it on.

It was very slightly too big for me, but very comfortable and soft inside. The dark leather was exactly the same colour as my hair. When I flipped my hair back, though, I noticed a neat hole in the left shoulder. I touched it gently, noticing that there was another hole directly behind it. It looked like a bullet hole.

I slipped it off again and placed it carefully on the chair before opening my rucksack and taking out the photo album, which I'd put in just before we left. I glanced at the door again before kneeling down next to the bed and sliding it under.

It slid over the smooth floorboard before something resisted. Curious, I put my other hand under and dragged out another photo album. 'Jez Redfern' was written at the top in bright red, with 'Do not touch' underneath it.

May as well disobey my mother. It wasn't as if it could happen very often.

I leant my back against the wall next to the bed and flipped open to the first page, which was blank except for 'Seriously, Morgead. Don't look', written in silver on the black paper. I turned the page again, to see that there were four photos across the pages. I quickly flipped to the back page. Even that had photos on it.

I was itching to look through them, but restrained myself, knowing that Bracken and dad were waiting for me downstairs. I could look at them tonight.

I put it back underneath the bed, on top of my own, before opening the two suitcases and haphazardly putting my clothes into the empty drawers.

The wardrobe, however, had some clothes in them, just some coats and yet another leather jacket. I felt myself smile as I looked down at the floor and saw several pairs of shoes, including some All-Star converses, black military boots and dolly shoes. Her size was just slightly bigger than mine.

I put the suitcases on the floor and went out and down the stairs. Voices were coming from behind the door nearest to the front door. I opened it and the voices abruptly stopped.

I just about managed to contain my sigh, though I could tell my expression was murderous as I shot a glance at dad. He just smiled amusedly.

"You certainly look a lot like your mother," Bracken said, staring at me with wide eyes.

I made a point of not looking at dad.

After a slightly awkward pause, dad said. "I should get going. It's a long drive ahead."

Bracken just nodded, still staring at me. I followed dad out to the car to say goodbye.

"He's a bit strange sometimes, but no-one has a better heart than him," dad said, so softly I could hardly hear him. He hugged me hard and kissed my forehead before getting into the car. "Remember you can call me any time you want to."

I nodded, suddenly terrified of being alone with Bracken. "Are you sure this was a good idea?" I whispered back, just as softly.

He looked at me seriously and brushed my hair back. "Yes. I love you, Adenah," he said.

"Love you too," I answered.

He drove away.

I took a deep breath before turning back to the house. Bracken came out.

"We can start tomorrow. Just go to your room and get settled," he said kindly.

I was relieved by this. I didn't really feel like sitting downstairs and trying to make conversation with my dead mother's uncle. I nodded at him and went upstairs, getting ready for bed and letting myself collapse on the bed with my eyes closed.

When I opened them, the first thing I saw was the etching on the wall, which made me smile again. I checked the time, which was eleven in the evening. There was no sound in the house.

I stayed completely still for a couple of minutes, my ears straining to hear anything. Even the road was silent. That was strange for me. Even in the dead of night, we could just about hear the bustle of the Strip from our house.

I turned on the bedside lamp and leant down to pick up mum's old photo album.

The first was one of a woman that looked similar to her, had the same colour hair, and a man with the same eyes as mine. I guessed they were my grandparents. After that it was one of Bracken with her at about four years old. But the next one was what caught my attention.

It was my mum, with her wide blue eyes and thick red hair with a little boy that looked slightly older than her with bright green eyes and black hair. Mum and dad. Soon after they'd met, I guessed.

I couldn't stop looking at it. The bond between them was obvious. They were holding hands and smiling as if it was the happiest they'd ever been. I could see, just by looking at the photo that they were Soulmates. Even at that age.

I reluctantly turned the page.

They both got older, as did the space between them got bigger. Mum got more and more beautiful, but also more dangerous, by the expression in her eyes. The last photograph was a group photograph.

Mum, dad, Raven and Val were the only ones I could pick out. There were two others, one a tiny little girl that looked about ten with feathery blonde hair, and the other a tall boy about mum's age with cold grey eyes that stared expressionlessly out of the photo.

I found that I hated that photo.

The eyes of the boy I didn't know scared me. Mum and dad were separated by a big space, at either end of the group, and even though it was only a picture, I could see the tension in their shoulders. They weren't comfortable with something, whether it was their group of friends or each other.

I had to remind myself that they ended up marrying each other and having a kid.

And then she died.

Tears pricked behind my eyes and I slammed it shut, not wanting to see her any more.

I hated her.

I hated her.

I knew deep down that it wasn't fair, that she wouldn't have left if she hadn't had to, but at that moment I couldn't think about that. I hated her for the fact that she pushed dad away when they were teenagers, when he so obviously loved her. I hated that because of her dad was suffering, every day.

I hated that she died and left us to fend for ourselves.

I furiously threw the book under the bed, hearing it hit the wall to my right with a thump before turning off the light and squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed and didn't move from this place the time would turn back to before they even met, and I could prevent any of it from happening. Dad would never have met her; she would never have met him. Then he could have found someone else who didn't tear his heart out by going off and dying on him.

Maybe then he could be completely happy, instead of only half happy with a daughter that reminded him of his Soulmate.

I had a terrible dream where I could see dad and mum at different stages of their lives. She was running away from him as fast as she could, even though I tried to scream at her to stop. Dad was furiously running after her, though every time he came close, she slipped through his fingers like smoke. When he finally could reach her she had a stake impaled in her chest.

My eyes snapped open.

I was gasping, as if it'd been me running. The room was bright and already quite warm with the sun. I sat up slowly, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

It was about nine in the morning, and I could see Bracken outside doing goodness-knows-what, so I decided to at least do something that helped me clear my head. I got my guitar and strummed at it, closing my eyes. It was the easiest way to not think about the sudden hatred I felt for my mother, to forget the intense guilt also.

I had no idea how much time passed when I was playing, but at some point there was a knock at the door.

I jumped and looked to see Bracken. He was watching me with a sad expression.

"Ready to get started?"

The way he said it scared me.