by Kody Boye
“Yeah,” Guy said. “They do.”
PART 3
1
“This is bad,” Aerick said. “Really, really bad.”
“No kidding,” Guy said, bracing a hand along my shoulder as I continued to stare at the message. “Jason? Jason? You there?”
I was—at least, in part. Part of me was convinced that this was the beginning of the end: the first declaration that we were not welcome in a world where humanity thrived. Because of that, I could not respond, could barely think, could hardly even breathe. What little air I did manage to suck into my lungs seemed fruitless, as soon, I was gasping for breath.
“Jason!” Aerick cried.
“It’s just a panic attack,” Guy said, stepping forward and bracing his hand along my lower back. “Come on, Jason. Breathe.”
“I cuh-cuh-can’t,” I managed.
“Yes you can. Come on now. With me. In… then out… in… then out.”
I did as he instructed, drawing air into my lungs and then releasing it to the tune of his voice. Eventually, my chest began to loosen, the fire expired, the panic subsided. Soon, all I was left with was a burning sensation of unease, one which chilled me the core.
We’d been found, but by who I couldn’t be sure.
With that sentiment in mind, I closed my eyes and let loose an exhale that could’ve turned the world to ice.
Though I’d anticipated change, I hadn’t anticipated our home being vandalized in such a manner.
Fags, Freak, Kaldr, Howler.
The words were a mantra in my mind as I struggled not to look at the red spray paint on the wall in front of me.
“We should go inside,” Guy said, pressing up against my back. “We don’t know if anyone might still be around.”
“I don’t smell anything,” Aerick said, drawing air into his nostrils and then exhaling it the same way. “If there were someone here, I’d smell them.”
“Unless they’re something other than human,” Guy said.
“What’re you,” I started.
I hadn’t even begun to consider that this might have been the work of someone in our community. Ignorant as I was, all I’d been able to think was that this was the work of a bigot—a human who, somehow, someway, had seen the three of us, the rings around our eyes, and saw us for what we truly were. The thought of someone in the Supernatural community having done this—possibly as a scare tactic—hadn’t even crossed my mind until Guy had opened his mouth.
“You think,” I continued anew, then swallowed a lump in my throat before saying, “that this might have been something other than a human?”
“We have to consider the possibility,” Guy said. “Open the door, Aerick, and get inside.”
The Howler did as asked—first fumbling with, then inserting the key into the doorknob before opening and entering through the doorway. As he stood there, waiting for Guy and I to enter, I considered the emotions that were likely running through his mind and tried to determine whether or not I should say anything to him. Rather than do so, however, I stepped forward, reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone, and considered the screen as it came to life beneath my touch.
“Why do you have your phone out?” Aerick asked.
“I’m wondering if we should call someone,” I replied.
“Like who?”
“The authorities, for one.”
“It’s not like they’re going to be able to do anything,” Guy said.
“How do you know?” I frowned.
“Well, for one, there’s no culprit, no video evidence to show that whomever did this was actually here.”
“So what’re we supposed to do?” I asked. “Just cover it up like it never happened?”
“That’s exactly what we have to do, Jason.” Guy sighed and ran a hand across his stubbly face, only considering Aerick and I through the gap in his fingers as he allowed his hand to remain. “I’ll call the Agency in the morning,” he said, “and get the name and color code of the paint that they used on the front of the house. I doubt that shit’s going to come off with some soap and water.”
“Do you want me to try?” Aerick asked.
“No,” Guy said. “There’s no point. We’ll probably just make it worse, and besides—the neighbors might wonder what’s going on. Better to do it during the day when what we’re doing is more obvious.”
“All right,” I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “Whatever you say, Guy.”
As we made our way up the stairs, and as we disrobed and crawled into bed, I continued to speculate on just who, or what, might have done this so shortly after we’d moved into our new home—and realized, with cruel and utter futility, that even if we knew, there was nothing that could be done about it.
With that in mind, I closed my eyes, drew my section of the blankets over myself, and tried my hardest to fall asleep.
I found that sleep was the last thing my body had on its mind.
2
It was mid-afternoon by the time I woke the following day. Cold, alone, and wondering where in the hell Guy and Aerick were, I rose from bed and stretched out before the mirror that rested along the wall near the doorway and tried to determine what would be my first course of action on a day when I felt as though I were walking on pins and needles.
“Aerick?” I called, knowing that Guy would likely be at work at this hour of the afternoon. “Are you here?”
When no response came, I crouched to pick my jeans and shirt off the floor and began to dress, casually looping my belt into place and sliding my zipper up my pants before starting toward the doorway. Once at the stairs, I shrugged my shirt over my head and descended, only to find that the front door was open and music played from a boom box lying on its side on the porch.
“Aerick?” I asked. “Is that you?”
The young man—shirtless and speckled in paint—peeked around the corner and smiled when he saw me. “Hey,” he said. “You’re up.”
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Painting over the slander,” the man replied. “You?”
“I just woke up.”
“And looking sexy as ever,” the Howler growled, taking care to step off the tarp that lay spread out along the right side of the porch before stepping in and approaching me. He flipped the length of hair out of his face before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to my lips, and smiling. “How you doin’, babe?”
“A bit nervous about everything that’s been going on,” I said, “but other than that, I’m ok.”
“Want to help me paint?”
“Do I have to get shirtless?”
“Nah, nah. I’m just shirtless because it’s hot as fuck outside.”
Considering the way the heat was rolling into the house, I couldn’t blame him. So with that in mind, I stripped out of my shirt, tossed it onto the back of the leather couch, and followed him outside.
He’d already covered up the word Howler and was currently working on getting rid of the Kaldr section that lined the walls. Having been partially painted over the windows, most of the latter sections were gone—washed away by the power of heavy-duty cleaners. The Fags and Freaks portion, however, was bold and stark in appearance, and taunting me with everything it could possibly offer.
“Did Guy call the Agency this morning?” I asked as I took hold of a paintbrush and began to paint over the slander.
“Yeah,” Aerick replied, grunting as he hauled his own paintbrush out of the bowl. He grimaced as some of the paint landed on his black shoes and swore briefly before lifting his head to look at me. “That was the first thing he did this morning when he woke up.”
“Did you hear any of what they had to say?”
“Not really. Guy went out into the hall to talk, so it was hard to hear anything. But he did talk to them, so the incident’s been reported and documented.”
“Are they going to send an agent out to investigate?” I asked.
“No clue.”
We co
ntinued to paint in silence, during which time neither of us spoke and both of us continued to spread the coloring over the home that had been slandered so viciously by someone or something. Neighbors stopped by to say hello, to inquire on the state of the house, to ask what had happened and why we were painting. Always, Aerick and I tried to remain vague; and always we attempted to hide the words Kaldr and Howler. The Fags and Freaks were mostly gone, but still visible; and our neighbors, apparently knowing better than to ask, kept silent on the exact verbiage painted on our walls.
Soon, everyone was gone, leaving Aerick and I to finish our work.
By the time we were finished, it was early evening, and the first coat of paint we’d applied appeared pristine in comparison to that around us.
“It looks ok,” I said, nodding as Aerick swept his eyes up and down the wall, “right?”
“I’d say so,” the younger man replied, bumping his shoulder against mine before wrapping a sweaty arm around me. “How you doin’, boss man? You ok?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Well, after last night—and that panic attack you had—I’ve been a bit… well… worried.”
“There’s no need to worry about me, Aerick. I’ve had anxiety problems since I was a teenager.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Being bullied for being gay didn’t help,” I said. “A doctor called it Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I can literally get anxious about anything.”
“Shit, man. That sucks.”
“Yeah. This—” I gestured toward the wall “—sure didn’t help anything either.”
“I can imagine.” Aerick stooped to cap the jug of paint and rose to face me. “I need a shower. And so do you, smelly man.”
“Me? Smelly?” I laughed. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Howler.”
“Hey. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Come on,” I said, reaching down to take hold of his hand. “Let’s go.”
3
We showered and then lounged in the master bedroom in boxer briefs as we waited for the day to finish. Lying on his stomach, reading his phone, Aerick only lifted his head briefly to consider what I was doing before he said, “Looking for a job?”
“I need to find something before the school year starts,” I said, thumbing through the phone book in an effort to locate the section I knew instinctively had the list of city schools. “As it stands, I have no idea if I’m going to be able to get in anywhere.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s a month before the school year starts and I haven’t even started looking.”
“Well, you’re looking now, so…”
“Thanks, smartass.”
“Sure thing, babe.”
I slapped his ass—prime in its position within his snug red-and-white boxer briefs—before leaning back and sighing. “What about you? Are you looking to find work?”
“I figure I should. I don’t have the education for anything fancy, but I’ve got the looks and charm to make my way with people.”
“You’re not going to start bringing strange men over to our house, are you?”
“Only if you want me to, babe.”
I laughed as he rolled onto his back and pressed a hand against his abdomen—staring, contentedly, at the ceiling fan as it revolved over our heads. “I was thinking about applying for the local stuff first—fast food, grocery stores, etc. Then I figured I’d extend my reach and see if I can find something I really enjoy.”
“What kind of jobs have you worked in the past?”
“Tattoo parlors, sex shops—”
“Kinky,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m good-natured, easy-going, hard-working. Only reason I’ve been out of the work force for so long is because I got bitten and pulled underground.”
“You look better now that you’ve gained a little weight,” I offered.
“You mean look fatter,” he laughed, slapping his abdomen. “I need to start running again.”
“Nothing stopping us now,” I said, then lifted my head as I saw the blue Lexus roll up the road. “Guy’s back.”
“Think he brought food?”
“I doubt it. We’ll probably have to order in.”
“I can cook for us too, yannow.”
“You? Cook?”
“I offered to be househusband for a reason.”
I laughed, rolled out of bed, and dressed from the waist-down before making my way downstairs, leaving Aerick in the privacy of our bedroom as Guy walked through the back door with sweat on his brow and close-shaven head.
“Hey,” Guy said, reaching up to loosen his tie. “Hot as fuck out there, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It is.”
“You guys get the paint up all right?”
“Aerick started before I did. I woke up a bit late.”
“You need your sleep,” Guy said, setting his briefcase on the floor, “especially after you’ve had a panic attack.”
“Yeah.”
We remained silent for several moments, during which time Guy turned and continued to loosen his tie. After freeing himself of his corporate prison, he turned to face me and leaned down to kiss my temple, during which time he allowed his lips to linger and his hand to fall on my shoulder.
“Thanks, Guy.”
“Do you need me to drive you anywhere tomorrow for job interviews?”
“I’ve only just gotten started looking for a job.”
“And how has that been going?”
“Fine. I’m mostly writing numbers down and plan to call in the morning.”
“Good. ‘Cause you know I’ll chauffeur you around if you need it.”
“Thanks babe.”
“No problem.”
“Now… to my other question,” I said. Guy raised an eyebrow as he reached up to unbutton his shirt. “What did the Agency say about your call?”
“That they’ll look into it—and that the Sanguine that attacked the ranch have gone back into hiding.”
The Sanguine? And the ones that’d attacked the ranch, no less? Why would he bring them up?
“You don’t think,” I started.
“It was something that crossed my mind when I thought of who our enemies might be,” Guy interjected, cutting me off before I could continue further. “I thought, Who might want to fuck with us? And the only people I could think of were them.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“I’ve already requested someone from a home security network to come over and survey the house.”
“Cameras, Guy? Really?”
“If the Sanguine are going to be fucking with us, I want definitive proof.”
“But if they’re cloaked—”
“How do you know if they were cloaked?”
I wanted to say, Because all of the others had been, but decided to refrain from doing so, as saying such a thing would do no good.
With a nod, and with a sigh that spoke true of my emotions, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you for doing this,” I said. “It means a lot to me.”
“I told you and Aerick that I would keep you safe. And I intend to keep that promise.”
The love in his words, in his arms, in his voice, was unlike anything I could’ve ever imagined.
When I set my head against his chest—when I heard, beneath the exterior, the beat of his cold heart—something told me that everything would work out for the better. It had to. Otherwise, I had no idea what I’d do.
4
I spent hours researching the openings for and then calling said schools that were interested in hiring a teacher for a full-time position, both in the middle and high-school levels. Given that it was nearing the beginning of a school year, I initially anticipated being refused outright—or at least be told to try again next year—but was pleasantly surprised with the number of interview requests I was met with.
Your resume sounds excellent, one school said.
Yo
u seem like a perfect fit, another added.
I was just getting excited on the third call when I was asked the one question I hadn’t anticipated.
Are you a Supernatural?
Having not expected this question, I merely paused and dwelt over what had just been said over the other end of the phone. Me? A Supernatural? How did they know, and why was someone in the education department asking such a thing? Were they trying to protect the children? Weed out potential candidates? Or were they simply asking based on precautions?
“Mr. DePella?” the man on the other end of the phone asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, blinking, then reaching up to run a hand across my face. “I mean, yes. I’m a Supernatural.”
“Of what persuasion?”
“Svell Kaldr,” I replied.
“Does your condition pose a threat to those around you?”
“No,” I said. “Why would it?”
“I haven’t read up on many of the Supernaturals, Mr. DePella, but I’ve been made aware that some of you are capable of extreme outbursts of violence and uncontrollable use of your powers. Given that you’re a Kaldr, however, and we are in the need for a new English Literature teacher here at our high school…”
Come on, I couldn’t help but think, and feverishly sunk my teeth into my lip so I wouldn’t just come out and say it. I knew he needed me. I just knew he did.
“Why don’t you come on in for an interview later today?” the man asked. “Say, around three-thirty? Does that work for you?”
“That works perfectly,” I replied.
With that said, we exchanged goodbyes and hung up.
The grin plastered along my face would’ve split my jaw in half had it the power to.
“I take it you got good news?” Aerick asked from his place in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting my eyes from my phone to look at him. “They want me to come in for a job interview.”
“Which school?”
“Falls Burrow High.”
“Falls Burrow,” Aerick repeated, testing the words on his tongue as if they were a delicacy meat to be sampled. “Falls Burrow, Falls Burrow—”
