I lost my head and leapt for it in the move that had worked so well with the coyote but apparently wasn’t ideal when tackling wild boars.
I had one hand on the hoof, while I held my knife with the other hand, then it turned, and before I knew it my blood was glistening on its tusks while I gasped, still holding onto my knife. Someone was yelling my name, but the smell of blood, my blood made sound really far away. Everything grew more and more dim until my dad’s silver eyes came into focus. I smelled more blood while the pain in my stomach filled me for two eternal breaths before I fell into darkness.
When I woke up in my bed, my dad was sitting in the chair, but he didn’t have a book. He watched me. I looked back for a long time before I dared to look down at myself. My whole body was covered in white bandages. I swallowed and looked back at my dad. The silence was getting very heavy when he came over to me and brushed my hair back from my face.
That’s when I started to cry. It hurt but when I was finished I felt better. I pulled away embarrassed.
I swallowed hard. “It hurt.” That was only a slight understatement. “How many days have I been unconscious this time?”
His slight smile was at odds to the tension still in his face. He looked exhausted. “It’s morning, you had your accident last night. You’ll have to spend today in bed to make sure everything’s healing properly, but after that we’ll go hunting again.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going hunting again.”
“When you go back to Sanders, I want you to get used to hunting at least once a week. You can go with Satan. It’s the best thing I can think of to make sure you stay in control of your blood lust.” He held up his hand when I started objecting. “It’s either that or risk hurting your friends and family.”
“Why can’t I stay here? How can you want me to go hunting after I almost died?”
My dad was quiet for a long time. “If I don’t make certain you’re healthy, someone else will do that for me.”
“What are you talking about? You think my mother is going to insist on my hunting? That’s not going to happen.”
“The Nether made it clear that you didn’t look as well as he’d hoped. It’s my responsibility to see to it that you know how to take care of yourself so that you are not left at the mercy of the merciless.” His voice was hard this time, and I could guess how much he hated saying that.
“Oh, you didn’t mention that last night. The Nether threatened to take care of me if you wouldn’t and that involves me hunting? Who does he think he is?” My voice roared the last bit and my father smiled then sighed.
“There are worse things, Dari. There are always worse things. Get some rest.”
I felt like a child in bed all day as my father came and went, reading to me bits of Greek he’d translate and try to get me to discuss, but I wasn’t in the mood. I had too many things in my head that I didn’t want to think about. I spent so much energy on not thinking, but I couldn’t help myself. The worst thing I thought about was Lewis. I’d forget to concentrate, and I’d start to picture us meeting. My fantasy invariably ended with me covered in blood and a look of unforgettable horror on his face. I stabbed my knitting needle through the lumpy stretch of loops a little too hard and gasped, feeling it through my bandages. I breathed shallowly as I set my knitting to the side.
“Dari, I have something for you,” my father said from the doorway. I was certain he’d have another Greek quote but instead he presented me with a wicked looking dagger that flashed as it seemed to catch all the light in the room and reflect it back to me.
“Oh, it’s a knife.” I took it gingerly and examined the swirling carving on the handle.
“That’s not just any knife; it’s a Nether blade. It can transfer death to you as well as if you’d used your teeth. It will take skills also, as long as the blade is wet.” With blood, he meant. I studied him and couldn’t decide if he was more reluctant or eager to give me the knife.
“A Nether blade? That’s great.” I didn’t want to think about the hunting we were going to do in a few hours, but I was feeling better. How I could feel better when only a night ago I’d felt like my guts were used for rappelling, I had no idea. I should have asked, but I didn’t want to think about the incident. It was bad enough to drag myself out of bed and let Ethel help me dress and tie my shoes. I could walk without much discomfort but bending over was out of the question. I took it easy, caught a bat and a squirrel, resigned to my role as barbarian.
I didn’t leave the inner compound, as he called it, in the days that flew by filled with long walks with my father or working beside him while he painted or worked in the garden. I spent a good deal of time in a large floppy hat with old leather gloves that came up to the top of my arms to protect my white skin, and barefoot while I dug in the dirt with my dad. I loved the feel of the earth between my toes and the smell of sun warmed soil. I grew more comfortable with the sudden temperature increases inside of me. When my fury raised its head, I became almost adept at directing it in a positive direction. I chopped a lot of wood.
One evening, as I walked back to the house, I looked up and saw the white clouds unfurling around molten gold touched by indigo. It was beyond beauty. I stood there with my head tipped back, taking in the sky until long after all the color had faded and the stars came out. There was music that I’d never heard before, an unearthly orchestration that filled every living thing. The most astonishing realization was that I, Dariana, formerly soulless, was part of that.
6 House of Slide or Genetics Strike Again!
I walked down the stairs, burning enough fury to lift the enormous suitcase in one hand and a heavy wool rug in the other. I dropped the suitcase to the floor then propped the rug against the wall.
“Ethel, I’m all packed,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. I watched her for a minute as she scrubbed the floor with a vigor that would wear the stones down. “Ethel?”
She threw down her brush and said, “Are you ready?”
I wasn’t the only one in a bad mood. “I guess I have to be.”
She nodded. “When I was the matron in charge of a group of Hotblood young women, there was a young lady named Camilla who was doing beautifully until she fell in love and ran off with a hot-headed Wild. She burned out within a few months. I trust you won’t let your newfound emotions run away with you the way young Camilla did with your uncle.”
I stared at her blankly. “My uncle ran off with a Hotblood girl?”
Ethel sniffed, wrinkling her long nose. “Indeed, the eldest son who certainly should have known better. No doubt he was showing the House what he thought of their authority. Wilds are notoriously stupid in their beginning years. It’s a wonder anyone survives to maturity.”
“What happened to them? What do you mean when you say she burned out? Did she die?“
“Yes. Young Camilla died. She may have survived if she’d stayed at school, but then again, she might have died anyway. For a Hotblood to allow their hormone-riddled bodies to overpower their souls is fatal. Sometimes it just burns out their brains and they’re left as vegetables; other times it’s a very dramatic conflagration. Camilla’s case was dramatic.”
“She got so hot she actually caught on fire?” Sometimes I’d felt so angry that I felt like I was going to explode but if you could actually burn yourself, you’d think someone would have mentioned something sooner.
“No, no. She took to self-destructive habits like losing her temper and burning down the building she was inside of with great amounts of gasoline.”
I could practically smell the smoke and burning flesh.
“Are you ready to go?” Satan’s rough growl echoed through the room. I looked up and saw the glowing cigar, smoke wafting around him and filling the room.
I felt heat in my cheeks as I nodded, glad when my dad walked in with the slow grace that I’d always taken for apathy, and put an arm around my shoulder. “Your things are in the car. Can you think of anything else you’ll need?�
� I leaned against him and listened to the music of his heart as I inhaled his scent; it was water and wind, with a tinge of sun-warmed earth. “Just you and the woods, that’s all.” After hearing a story like that, I wanted more than ever to stay.
He pressed a hand to the top of my head. “You can return here after you’ve come of age. If you’re ready you’d better be going. It’s a long drive to Sanders.”
“I still don’t see why you can’t take me. Satan might fall asleep again and then we’ll be dead.”
My dad laughed but it wasn’t his happy laugh. At least I knew the difference now. “I’m sure Satan is well rested. Isn’t that right?” he asked over my head and I turned to take in my enormous uncle’s shrug.
“It helps that Grim’s found something better to do this time round. Are you ready then?” He didn’t seem impatient, more like he wanted to get something unpleasant over with.
In the driveway I recognized the monstrous heap of black metal with my rug poking out of the backseat. I looked once more at my father’s world: the house that I’d never fully explored, the yard filled with overabundant life, and the woods. The woods were the most like my father, and I would miss them. I slid into the front seat beside Satan and noticed how quiet the door was when my father closed it.
“This is it then,” my dad murmured looking down at me. I sniffed and nodded. “I’ll keep in touch but you’re going to do fine with your mother and Satan to help you. Satan’s agreed to take you hunting, isn’t that right?” Satan made a noise and my dad continued. “Take it one day at a time. I think you might try to make friends and enjoy this time because it doesn’t last long.”
“Is that all the wisdom you’ve got for me?” I asked half smiling.
“Wouldn’t want you overwhelmed,” Satan said, reminding me that he could hear everything we said.
“Satan, drive safely.” My dad stepped away from the car and Satan pulled off with a jerk. I leaned out the window, looking back as we drove down the narrow road.
I sank into a glum silence as we bumped along, feeling like we were driving into a hole, a tunnel that grew dimmer with each passing mile.
“Well, you’re lively,” Satan said after an hour or so.
As far as I could tell, I didn’t have anything to be happy about. “Sanders is going to be really dull compared to my dad’s house,” I finally said because he kept looking at me instead of the road. I didn’t like the way he drove: too fast, and the danger of him dropping off to sleep was always there.
“Really? When I talked to him he said things were slow and nothing interesting happened all summer.”
So my father had not indulged my “dream-come-true” to Satan. “Maybe it will be too interesting for me in Sanders then.” I felt a drop in my stomach as I thought about seeing my mother now that I knew she’d chosen Devlin over me. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t know what my mother wants with me now.” I swallowed down tears and turned my face to the window watching the trees change to fields, traffic increasing as we joined larger roads further from my dad’s place. It was hot and the back of my knees stuck to the leather seats. With all the windows rolled down my hair whipped my eyes if I didn’t keep a firm grip on it.
“Why do you drive such an ugly car?” I asked. “It’s obviously not because of the marvelous cooling system.”
Satan responded cheerfully. “I’m more into function than form. It’s a weakness of mine. Air conditioning would be nice but the heater usually works great.”
“Really? It’s too bad it’s August then.”
“You wouldn’t be going back to school at another time, would you?”
I shrugged as the idea of going back to school really sank in. “Oh, that’s not going to be fun.” Satan gave me a questioning look. “School.” I saw images of halls full of people staring at me without Devlin’s shadow to hide in.
“From what I’ve heard you’ve never had trouble with grades.”
“Grades are the easy part. How am I going to walk around like a normal person when at any moment I might lose my temper and break someone’s arm, or worse?”
“Hmmm.” Satan said thoughtfully. “I suppose that might be a bad thing. You’ve got knitting.” He gestured to my bag with my needles hanging out. “Anything else?”
“Tai Chi,” I offered but without much enthusiasm.
“Martial arts?” His eyes lit up and I found myself grinning back at him without the slightest idea why. “That is a good idea. That way if you lose it and bash someone, they’ll think it’s natural.”
“Oh.” I stared at him. “I don’t really think that’s what my dad had in mind…”
“Your dad can fight. Did he teach you any of his tricks? With the surprise of your strength and the agility that comes with your size, I think we could really make something out of you.”
“Make something out of me?” If he was talking about making me more dangerous than I was, we had a problem.
“The hunting is going to be great. I can show you how to use all kinds of weapons.” He paused and scowled at me. “Not all kinds of weapons, but basic ones. We’re going to have a good time!”
I stared at him remembering the things my father said about Satan’s idea of a fun time. “Bazookas,” I said.
“No.” That frown was back on his face.
“Dad said you liked bazookas.”
“I know bazookas are cool but I don’t think that would be quite up your alley. I’m thinking crossbow and two-handed swords and…”
“Satan, I don’t want to use a bazooka. I don’t want a two-handed sword either. What I really want is to be normal and not be dangerous with my bare hands, much less loaded up with weapons.”
He stared at me. “If you don’t know how to fight, then when you’re cornered you may do more damage than you intend to do. If you don’t want to lose your temper and rip people’s heads off the way you did to the critter in your dad’s woods, I’d suggest you learn your abilities and how to keep the dangerous bits in check.”
I scowled at him feeling frustrated that I was in the hands of this insensitive bazooka-loving Wild when what I really wanted was to be back at my dad’s house where there wasn’t a chance of my hurting an innocent bystander. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I’ve gone years with nothing, and now suddenly I’m so filled with irrational emotions I can’t control myself. I can’t think when I’m acting.” My voice was rising steadily, but I didn’t care. Satan was absolutely the worst person in the world for me to be left with. He loved violence and didn’t understand how much I wanted to be a good person instead of a destructive force. He thought destruction was fun!
“Your eyes are stunning,” he said suddenly and focused on the road.
I blinked at him feeling a flash of heat at his comment, thinking that he was mocking me, but after staring at his lumpy-nosed profile for a long time the heat in me faded, replaced with a tiredness and a throbbing behind my eyes that made me want to shut them and go to sleep.
When I woke up, the sun was in a different place in the sky and came down through the speckled shade of the giant oak we were parked under. I saw Satan’s back where he stood at the window of a long, low building with white paint peeling around the edges. He came back to the car carrying two large sacks and after he got in he pushed one over to me.
“Thanks. It smells really good.” I could smell the blood and I wasn’t disappointed by the juicy burgers.
“We’re going to stop in the city. I’ve got to pick something up but it won’t take long,” Satan said, shoving a sandwich into his huge mouth.
I stared at him in awe at how much food he could fit inside his mouth at a time.
“What?” he asked.
“Your mouth is enormous,” I said and took another bite.
“Thanks,” he mumbled through his sandwich.
“You’re welcome.” I giggled a little bit. I felt better after I had a stomach full of still bloody flesh, how gross was that, but Satan didn’t seem t
o think anything about it however much he hated Nether. We ate companionably as cars whizzed by.
“So what do you do?” I asked him. He raised a hairless brow and I added, “I mean when you’re not dragging me around the countryside.”
He gave me a glance and I saw a slight smile on his mouth. “You’re manners are terrible.”
I looked at him wondering if it was good manners to tell someone they had bad manners. “I beg your pardon.” I felt hurt since I’d let down my guard after he’d fed me but now I remembered how much he hated Nether and probably me.
He was quiet for a while and then he took out his lighter and flipped it open. “Your dad didn’t tell you much about Wilds?”
“No.”
“You must be quite curious about us then.”
I shrugged. “I’ve lived this long without knowing much about mother’s family, I’m sure I can do without it just fine.” I was glad my voice came out cool.
He flipped the lighter shut. “True enough.” He pulled back onto the highway and I sat worrying about how I was going to handle living with my crazy uncle and my icy mother and what I was going to tell Snowy when she saw the new me. I didn’t want to think about Lewis, my dream come true, but I couldn’t help it. I wondered about what it would be like to meet him, whether I should tell him that I knew he’d been asking about me, or if I should ignore him completely. Telling him I dreamed about him was out of the question. I wanted to know why he’d been asking about me, though. I wanted to know what it was about me that he found interesting. I could know more if I hadn’t taken my dad’s potion all summer, but I supposed it was for the best. Maybe I didn’t really want to know. After spending all summer with Snowy, he was probably wrapped around her little finger.
We spent the rest of the drive in silence until we came to the outskirts of the city and I was getting hungry again. “When can we eat?” I asked as we passed a restaurant that looked good.
“I’ll grab something at the house. We’ll be there soon.”
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