“Cools, Hots, Wilds, and Hollow,” I said to show I’d been paying attention.
He nodded. “The thing they don’t like to talk about is the fact that there are more than one Nether and they aren’t gone never to return and bother us again. My grandfather is a Nether. He stole away my grandmother, a Cool, and left their child here for her family to raise.” He looked up at me and a slight smile touched his mouth. “You bit Satan.” I stared at him feeling cold. “Netherkind operate on souls and blood. They do that sometimes.”
“Bite people?”
He laughed. “No, take blood. I don’t imagine Satan tasted very good.”
I gave him a sickly smile. “That’s what Grim said.”
“The Nether blood in you gives the out-of-control rage of your Hotblood soul a drive to hunt. Other than that, your fury seems not that bad.”
I stared at him, certain I must have misheard. “Not that bad? I broke Satan’s arm. I broke your head open. No, not bad at all.”
He chuckled. Was he enjoying himself? “It makes me think that your Hotblood soul has been burning steady for some time. It should help. I think that if we work to keep up your physical strength and practice different techniques you shouldn’t have out of control furies.”
“Oh, great.” I ate the bacon. “So, if I get my food in normal ways, I won’t go running off to take down whatever I see?”
“No, I don’t think you will. So far you’ve been resting, gathering strength with the blood. At first I could barely get enough blood into you, but it’s slowed until now your body doesn’t need it.”
That sounded positive. I looked up at him hopefully. “You don’t think I’m going to do that again, lose it and kill something?”
He frowned. “I think that the fury won’t trigger a need to kill but the Nether blood will. It wasn’t just the flesh and blood that you were after. Some part of you knows the taste of death. You soaked up the death and that is what the Nether blood requires to exist in this world.”
I remembered the smell, the sweetness and the way I’d felt, the rush of it. “I soaked up its death?” I felt stupid repeating him but it was so absurd. Rubbing my temples I sighed, “Why?” A spark exploded in the stove and I jumped.
“For strength. Your body isn’t built for that soul. To keep it from breaking your body down, we will have to take extra precautions to strengthen you. Otherwise your Nether will take care of it for you.”
“What about the blood transfusion? That seemed to do big things for me.” I stretched out my leg and saw my calf muscle bunch up.
“Your body metabolized my blood. I like that. Neat, clean, and it feels so clinical, distanced from the uncontrolled desire. But it’s not death.”
I stared at my hands. They looked stronger; the nails were longer, thicker. My whole body was shifting to take up this monstrous soul and my father’s blood. “No wonder Satan hates Nether. Nether feed on death? How big am I going to get?”
He shrugged. “I think you’re done growing. I’m sorry about the heritage.”
“Not your fault,” I said numbly. “Do you go around killing things?”
He frowned. “Not at the moment. I haven’t tasted death for a very long time. It wasn’t your mother’s idea to be vegetarian. It was mine. I’m not happy with taking life in order to live.”
“All right. I’m not either. So why am I eating bacon?”
He shook his head. “You would rather let your Hotblood soul take over again? You aren’t going to be a pacifist any time soon. It must be frustrating to be Cool, Wild, and Hot, all at the same time with all of your tendencies and cravings enhanced.”
“Frustrating? Yeah, you could say that.” We were both quiet for a long time.
“Nether have abilities with blood and soul. When you take someone’s blood, you take their strength, their skill as well. That’s why you could overpower Satan after you took his blood. The Nether gave Devlin the ability to take your soul.”
I nodded. I didn’t believe him, well, I didn’t really understand him, but I wasn’t about to argue, not after what happened last time.
My dad made me kill a chicken for lunch, an obnoxious thing that had pecked me enough to draw blood and make me angry so I didn’t have to do it without the fury to help me. It had been bad enough to slit the throat and see the spray of blood in the sunshine, to hear the heart slow and stop, to feel the heat and life drain out of it, into me. It made me sick and I spent lunch, when I should have been eating, in the bathroom instead.
That evening after dinner I did tai chi with my dad, well, I watched him while he moved like the wind and I felt like an idiot. I watched him, trying to understand him. Sometimes he seemed relaxed, but then it would be an intense quiet that seemed the prelude to an explosion. Satan and Grim had been scared of him. No wonder with the way he’d ripped me to pieces with a look. It was hard to believe that I hadn’t imagined it however gentle and mellow he seemed now.
That night as I got ready for bed, I could hear buzzing and chirping outside my window even though it was shut. The lamp by my bed didn’t light up the corners of my room. I was startled by movement until I realized that it was a mirror that had caught my own reflection. Impatient with myself I rolled over onto my face and screwed my eyes tightly closed.
***
I walked over the concrete sidewalk, the warm dark night surrounding me. It was dark between the streetlights, but ahead there was a lit field behind a three-foot fence. It was the ballpark in Sanders. I was disoriented until I realized that this wasn’t really me. I stopped at the edge of the field where high school boys were chasing a soccer ball around. Half the boys were bare-chested.
I squatted on my heels while I watched the game. One player was particularly good. He looked familiar to me. After he made a goal, one of the other players pointed towards me. He ran towards me and as he got close enough, I recognized the face, a handsome, very American looking face with blonde hair that was longer than it had been the last time I had seen him— carrying the coffin at the funeral. He was Devlin’s best friend, the star quarterback and the nicest guy in Sanders. Why was he playing soccer? Did he play soccer and football?
“Hi, I’m Osmond,” he extended his hand and I stood and gripped it with my own.
“I’m Lewis. Nice goal. Do you need another player?” It was the same voice as the warm-eyed boy from the tiny bathroom.
Osmond grinned. “Sure. Looks like you ought to be on the other team though.”
I shook my head. “I don’t do skin.”
Osmond shrugged. “I’ll switch then.” Osmond’s shirt was off, tossed in a heap on the sideline, then he walked towards the other guys. “We’ve got a new player, guys. This is Lewis.”
I raised my hand, then focused on the ball. The game was fierce. At first I took it easy and held back, watching the game. Then I moved in and suddenly the ball was in my control. I raced across the field, the ball tightly in front of me. When I poised for the kick that would send the ball into the goal, the ball was gone. I looked up and saw Osmond, dancing away from me with the ball between his feet, grinning. I could feel the responding smile on my face and the game continued. Osmond was really good. I felt my body relaxing as I sped up until it seemed there were only two players on the field. I moved fast, dodging past Osmond getting the ball firmly in front of me with a speed that still barely got the ball past the goalie. A cheer went up and several guys slapped me on my back. Osmond laughed. It took serious character to have no problem being beaten on your own turf.
“Nice goal. Do you want to come with us to get ice cream?” Someone threw Osmond his shirt and he pulled it on, still grinning.
“Ice cream?” my low voice sounded incredulous.
“Sure. What, don’t you do sugar? They’ve got protein shakes too.”
I laughed. “You’re a football player, aren’t you?” Osmond nodded. “All right, so these friends of yours, the athletes of Sanders are going to go get ice cream?”
Osmond shr
ugged. “We keep things pretty clean around here. Besides,” his grin widened, “There’ll be girls there.” Someone hooted and I couldn’t help another chuckle.
“Girls huh, well, I can’t miss that.” I fell in beside Osmond, the rest of the guys laughing and talking. “So, is this how it always is here?” I asked Osmond, my voice low.
“I know, it’s like stepping into a fifties TV show, but it’s a good place to live, a good place to grow up. Where are you from?”
“Around. I was at a boarding school for awhile. Now I’m staying with my great uncle.”
“Who’s that?”
“His name’s Peter Olsen. He lives…”
“Oh, the retired veterinarian. Sure. That’s pretty close to where I live. I could give you a ride to school if you wanted.”
“That’s ok, I’ve got my own ride. Besides, you’re in football right? You probably have to go early.” My voice was a little bit edgy, like being offered a ride might have been an insult.
“You don’t think you’ll do football?” Osmond sounded disappointed.
“No.”
“Don’t like the violence?”
I laughed. “No, that part’s just fine. It’s following the coach’s orders I don’t like so much. Besides, football takes up too much time.”
“What do you like to do with your time?” Osmond sounded wary.
I shrugged. “I’m helping out my great uncle. He’s got a small farm. He’s going to keep me busy.”
Osmond nodded like that made sense. “Yeah, of course, if you have to help out your uncle...do you have to get back?”
I shook my head. “He’s gone to bed for the night. It’s good to get out and meet people.”
Osmond nodded understandingly. “Anytime you get bored, you can call me. We’ll find something for you to do.”
I laughed. “I think I can take care of myself.”
Osmond shook his head. “You’re a pretty big guy; Snowy could use someone like you for one of her service projects.”
“Snowy?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this one of the girls who’ll be eating ice cream?”
“That’s right. She’s kind of the queen of high school.”
“I see. Thanks for warning me. I’ll watch my step around her.”
Osmond laughed. “You sound like you know her.”
“Queens are dangerous and so are their boyfriends, usually.”
Osmond shook his head. “She’s not dating yet. Her boyfriend died.”
“Her boyfriend? So this Snowy was Devlin Sanders girlfriend?”
“You knew him?” Osmond looked at me intently.
“Not really. I went to the funeral with my great uncle.”
Osmond looked disappointed. “Of course. So, you probably saw Snowy, the blonde girl, nearly white hair, that’s why we call her Snowy. She’s been doing really great after what happened.”
There was a long silence, then I asked; “What did happen?”
Osmond frowned and shrugged. “There was a car accident. Devlin, I can’t quite explain about him, but he held us together. I know that sounds strange, but he wasn’t like a normal kid. He had vision.”
“I’ve heard a lot about him. He seemed by all accounts to be pretty decent.”
“Yes, he was.” There was a touch of the fervent to Osmond’s voice.
We walked in silence for a few minutes. “This feels awkward but can I ask you about the sister?” I sounded reluctant and pushed my hands deeper into my pockets.
“Who?” Osmond looked over at me sharply.
“You know, Dariana. I saw her at the funeral. I’m a little curious about her, but while everyone goes on and on about Devlin, no one has anything to say about her.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Osmond said easily.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t get that. If the brother is so fantastic, wouldn’t the sister be worth mentioning?”
Osmond stopped walking. He gave me a patient smile. “Look, Lewis.” You could hear the effort he was putting into sounding reasonable. “If you want to get along here, forget about the sister. OK?” He patted my back and turned away and walked forward quickly.
I didn’t keep up. The streetlights were getting closer together and I could see the ice cream parlor. In the well-lit parking lot, groups of people stood around talking and laughing together.
I drifted to the back of the group and glanced at the guys around me. I joined their conversation but I wasn’t paying attention to them. I searched the parking lot, then made my way inside the shop. The old-fashioned jukebox was blaring and groups of people were sitting in cherry colored booths or perched on benches along the counter. Osmond made the order for the group of guys. Everyone handed him cash, but I didn’t join in. I saw a girl with white blonde hair, even features, the black of her shirt too sharp a contrast against her fair skin.
“That’s Snowy,” Osmond said.
I glanced at him and nodded. “I can see that. Do you mind if I talk to her?”
“Don’t talk about Dari.”
“Dari? Is that what you call her?”
Osmond studied me intently then shook his head. “I think we’d better go outside.”
I shook my head and said, sounding amused, “I don’t usually fight guys your size.”
“No? Who said anything about fighting?” Osmond walked towards me, not stopping when he got to me. I had to walk backwards if I didn’t want to get stepped on.
I shrugged and walked outside, letting the guys jostle me as they came along. So much for a fifties TV show. I glanced at a guy next to me. “So a wholesome town like this is used to street fights? No doubt afterwards we can eat some more ice cream.” The guy just shrugged and I was out in the parking lot where an area had been cleared for us.
“Osmond,” a girl’s voice called and he looked at Snowy with a cheerful smile. “This might not be the best welcome we could give someone new.” She stood with her hands on her hips, her head cocked while she looked at Osmond.
“Snowy, you can introduce girls any way you want, but I’ve got this. Don’t worry. It’ll be clean.”
“You’re going to get in trouble,” but she folded her arms across her chest and that was all she said.
I stepped up where Osmond stood. “You realize that this whole thing doesn’t make me less curious about the girl. Is she your girlfriend?” Osmond moved fast throwing a punch, but I ducked to the side. “She didn’t look like your type.” Osmond threw another punch, but I was already under his swing. “Why does an entire town refuse to say anything about a girl? It’s like something from a weird horror movie, not a fifties TV show.” Osmond moved so fast I could barely see him coming, but I managed to stay out of his way.
“You’re not even trying,” Osmond said as he glared at me.
I shrugged. “I told you, I don’t usually fight guys like you. You’re too clean and direct. I can see what you do before you do it and, believe me, I’m no mind reader.” Osmond’s face turned thoughtful and this time when he moved, he actually came in contact with me before I spun away. “Better.”
“But not good enough.” Osmond said with half of a smile on his mouth. “You were serious about fighting bigger guys?”
I shrugged.
“Oh, great,” I heard Snowy mutter as a car drove up, engine squealing as it pulled into the parking lot. It went slow enough that no one got hit but only barely. It was a monstrous thing that looked like it ate other cars, expanding in mysterious ways. The door opened with the inevitable sound that made everyone in the parking lot shudder.
“Who’s that?” I asked under my breath.
Osmond gave me a look that was nearly sympathetic. “Have you ever fought anyone that big?”
I glanced at the huge guy who looked remarkably satanic as he got out of the car. “Once or twice.”
“Well, it looks like you’re in luck. If you want to know about Dariana Sanders, there’s no one better to ask than her uncle, right?”
/> “That’s her uncle? I…see.”
“What’s going on here? A fight? Don’t let me break it up. Nothing interesting has happened in this little town since I got here.” Satan’s gravelly voice boomed across the parking lot.
“Mr. Slide,” Snowy came forward with a sweet smile on her face. “Osmond wasn’t fighting.”
“No?” he eyed her skeptically.
“Of course not. They were…what’s the word when they pretend to fight? This new guy, Lewis, was demonstrating something. Look, they haven’t even hit each other. What kind of a fight is that?” She kept smiling, fluttering her eyelashes wildly and standing between Satan and me.
“Are you sure?” he directed that question to Osmond. Osmond gave me a thoughtful look then shrugged.
“No, sir. We were just messing around.”
“That’s too bad. You, new kid, I’m going to give you a ride home now.”
I glanced at Osmond and he grinned at me. “Have fun.” He melted into the crowd along with Snowy, while I took slow steps towards the enormous guy in the crumpled hat. A cigar hung out of his mouth and he lit it up while I waited in front of him. I was tall enough that I stood on eye level with his nose.
“Mr. Slide?” Satan nodded once and jerked his thumb towards the car door. I opened it and slid in without making as much noise as Satan did when he settled into the seat beside me. “Can I do something for you?” My voice sounded like I found something about this whole thing funny.
He glanced at me and I saw that his eyes were bloodshot around the dark blue iris. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Lewis.”
“All right, Lewis, so what was that back there? I haven’t been able to ruffle anyone’s feathers in this unnatural town. You walk in and five minutes later you’re in a fight with the local scoutmaster. How do you do it?” He sounded impressed.
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