Chapter 27

 

Sweet merciful heaven and earth, that girl was driving him completely off his nut! Was it even possible for her to act her age for longer than two minutes at a time? His own sister had whined less as a little girl, and she had been Daddy’s Little Princess for goodness’ sake! That kid had gone from hesitant to confident to weepy to straight up b***h in no more than twenty minutes!

And she called him the moody one!

It was a damned good thing that Talia had driven, because in his state, he’d probably steer his bike headlong into oncoming traffic. Anything as long as it meant he didn’t have to put up with that silly little girl’s whining for another second.

He didn’t care that he’d promised to help train her. He didn’t care that they had only stayed for twenty minutes, instead of the whole afternoon. He didn’t even care that he would, in all likelihood, catch utter hell from his sister for storming out like he had. Talia’s ranting was nothing compared to the sheer insanity and inanity that he had already endured.

For the love of mercy, though, what in blazing hell was going on in that girl’s head? It was driving him to distraction. It would be one thing if she were completely childish, from sunup to sundown, as he had originally believed. She wouldn’t be the first he’d met. If she were nothing more than an immature, vapid little girl, he could write her off just like he’d written off all of the other people he’d met in the past twenty years.

If only it were that simple.

Ironically, when she let her guard down around him, he could see full well that she had very definite potential. For a few minutes, down in that forsaken basement, she had been confident. Civilized. Mature, even.

Well, maybe not ‘mature’, but certainly not acting like a spoiled five-year-old.

The point was that for a few minutes she had been getting it. She had been a bit hesitant at first, true, but almost everybody was when they first started. All it ever took was a little bit of practice, a little bit of encouragement that yes, indeed, they were capable. It had worked for Talia, it had worked for him, and it had started to work for Al- that girl.

That silly little girl.

One bloody scratch and she had been ready to call the whole thing off. If she wanted to be trained, then why on earth was she so skittish and fickle about it? Surely she wouldn’t get so worked up over scratching him a bit? It wasn’t as if any permanent damage had been done, except to his shirt. If that was it, he would lose what little respect he still had for her. Only his sister came close to being so concerned about clothing, and she would never dream of getting teary-eyed over a stupid generic shirt like his.

It was settled. He would never understand the convoluted depths of that little girl’s head. Not even the old standby ‘Girls are just crazy’ did this situation justice. She was completely mental. She was immature, she was whiney, she was temperamental beyond comprehension, and she had the audacity to call him moody. Him! And after he’d saved her silly life no less!

Why she had ever come back into those woods would always be a mystery to him. What had she been thinking? That she would help? And her not even called yet. Not a hunter, just hunterborn. Still mortal. Still untrained. She had no idea just how very lucky she was that there had been four hunters out there with her. Four experienced hunters, all of whom had fought together in a war. Four hunters that would risk a missed kill to ensure that she made it back home without a scratch, despite having come within a few yards of over a dozen feeders.

Damn it all, he had let one get away for her! Because she was so bloody impulsive that she had returned to those woods with Talia! It was unconscionable! He never let a demon escape, not after they had seen him for what he was!  Bloody, scathing, cataclysmic war—that’s what happened when hunters were careless like that. Horrible war, that left the hunters’ numbers ravaged, and all of his friends dead.

And yet what could he have done? Let her die? Tell himself that it was better to let this one be killed rather than risk any more lives? Except he hadn’t thought of any of those things—not when he had been there in those woods, when his heart stopped at the sight of her. He hadn’t even considered the consequences. He had been so damned terrified that she could be hurt that he forgot everything but keeping her safe.

Damn it all!

He had sworn to himself that he would never let this happen.

Not again.

He had watched everyone he ever cared about slip away. His mother, on the way home from the store. His father, of a broken heart. His cousins Lily and Alejo, just trying to raise their children in peace. Every friend, every comrade, all of them killed in the Traitor’s war. He had sworn to himself that he would never let himself care again. All it brought was misery.

He had been afraid this would happen.

He knew it when he gave his sister that call that his return to civilization would only end badly. He had managed to live twenty years without bonding to a single soul. It was so easy to do, out there on the fringes. Returning to his sister meant returning to places where people would be unavoidable, and he couldn’t move on in a week and avoid long-term interaction with the same people, again and again. Returning meant inevitably re-forging relationships with the few friends he had left.

It was only a matter of time, then.

Everybody he cared about was condemned. It was only a matter of time before he lost them. He had left Talia behind. He was so terrified that he would lose her, too. Maybe it had worked. Twenty years he had been gone, and his sister still lived. What had he been thinking, coming back?

Now everything was going to hell.

Well, there was one upshot to that debacle in the basement that day. He no longer gave a rat’s a*s what happened to that ridiculous girl. She could keep the damned wooden claws. Let her train herself. She was nothing but an aggravation to him, and he didn’t intend to have anything more to do with her. Ever.

Nobody talked about his father like that.

“Something on your mind?”

Ryan looked away from the car window and over at his sister. Her usually expression of placid optimism was, for the moment, replaced by concern. He shrugged and looked back out the window.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “You’re always quiet, but usually you would have complained about the traffic by now.”

Ryan blinked. “There’s traffic?” He looked out the windshield to see a parking lot of cars stretching out in front of them, and he finally realized that they were moving at a snail’s pace.

Talia cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. Accident about three miles from here. Wow, you really are out of it. This is a first!”

“Be sure to alert the media.”

“Come on, now, talk to me. What’s in your head, Zeus?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Ryan asked, frowning at her.

“No reason. So, fight with Little Leda?”

Ryan groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why do you even bother asking? Seriously?”

“Hey, just because I could hear every word doesn’t mean I know what was going on.”

“Oh, you don’t? You could have fooled me.”

“I have my theories,” Talia said, grinning smugly.

“Do tell.”

“Ah, no, see, that’s your job right now.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Sure thing, Zeus.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Start talking,” she countered.

He gritted his teeth. “You said it yourself: you heard what happened. She’s impossible. End of story.”

“Okee-dokee,” Talia said, and shrugged. She turned her attention to the road in front of her.

Ryan eyed her suspiciously.

The abrupt shift was typical of his sister. Dropping something she knew annoyed him was not. Any minute, now, she was going to come back with some smug, falsely innocent, and above all exasperating comment. Just as soon as she let him stew about it long enough—her timing on that was invariably impeccable.

To his growing surprise—and dread—the remark never came.

For an hour they sat in traffic: an opportunity Talia should never pass up. They made it past the site of the accident. Traffic cleared. They got back to the apartment. Talia chatted blithely about going to a nightclub in Philadelphia that evening, and an upcoming date with Pizza Boy. Ryan continued to feel uneasy until she started trying to convince him to come to the nightclub with her and whatever cousins she had found. He responded to her “logic” with his usual sarcasm and some amount of relief and sent her on her way.

An hour after she’d gone, he hopped on his bike and drove to work, convinced that his sister was back to normal.

It was Tuesday. The stack of assignments sat on the cafeteria table in front of Aleda, taunting her. She poked at the pages of project guidelines and poems idly, maintaining a vague pretense of interest in them. Thanksgiving was coming. She had almost forgotten. Sadly, her teachers had not. She wouldn’t be surprised if they marked it gleefully on their calendars. With brightly colored markers.

Every one of her teachers had given out holiday assignments.

A Civil War timeline for History. A report on a poet—Dylan Thomas, for her—for English. Another report for Chemistry, this one on acids. A portrait of a family member for Drawing. An oral presentation in French. Last but not least, a thick stack of proofs for Pre-Calculus. If Mrs. Dodges could have found some way to give an assignment for Chorus, Aleda was sure she would have.

Across from her, Val offered a sympathetic half-smile. Aleda had taken to eating lunch with Val and her friends, who fortunately shared the same lunch period as her.

“Lots of weekend homework?” Val asked.

Aleda nodded. “Yeah, you can say that again. What happened to Thanksgiving being a holiday?”

“They’re just trying to squish everything in before midterms,” Val said. “Get in one last huge grade.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“Of what,” Val said, batting her eyes innocently. “Midterms? Midterms, midterms, midterms!”

“Evil!”

“Well, yeah, but what are you going to do?”

“My plan is to ignore them until they go away,” Aleda said.

“That sounds like my plan,” one of Val’s friends chimed in. Becca, if Aleda remembered correctly.

“Ha! Not everybody has a cute geek for a boyfriend,” Val said.

“And whipped,” Becca said. “Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.”

“Exactly.”

Aleda nibbled on her sandwich and thumbed through the stack again.

“You should put that away,” Val told her. “It’ll just depress you.”

Another of Val’s friends spoke up. “It’s depressing me, I’ll tell you what.”

“Oh, shut up, Jess. You’ve never done a shred of homework in your entire life,” Becca said.

“And proud of it!”

“Hey, Leda,” Becca said, turning to her, “Maybe you could get Nate to do some of this crap for you.  You’re training him, right?”

Aleda choked on her sandwich.

“T-training?” she stuttered. “Wh- …oh! ‘Training’! Right! Um, no, n-not really,” she finished awkwardly.

Becca didn’t notice her faltering. “Well,” she said, “I’d be happy to give you a few tips, if you like. Bit too late for this weekend, I’m afraid.”

“Er, yeah. Maybe. After Thanksgiving.”

“You got it.”

“Hey, Chica, you got any holiday plans?” Val asked.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Jess wondered.

Becca rolled her eyes. “’Cause she’s Spanish, you idiot. They don’t have Thanksgiving in Spain.”

“Ooh, okay,” Jess said, nodding understandingly. “Wait. Really? Why not?”

Val snorted.

“Actually,” Aleda said, “I do. We’re going over to our cousin’s house in Dover on Thursday.”

“Hey, there you go!” Val said approvingly. “As long as they’re not a******s. They’re not a******s, are they?”

Aleda shook her head and continued on her sandwich.

Jess frowned at her for a moment. “Okay, I’m completely lost,” she whined after a moment. “I thought you’re from Spain.”

“Just her dad. Leda’s mom is from Delaware,” Val explained to the poor girl. “So of course she’s got family in the area. Right, Chica?”

“Right… family.”

“So whose cousin is it?” Val asked. “Yours?”

“Er…” Aleda hesitated for a moment. “Mom’s?” she tried.

“See?” Val said to Jess. “I told you her mom has family here.”

The girl accepted this explanation cheerfully, and Aleda breathed a small sigh of relief. She was starting to realize why her ‘family’ didn’t have many outside friends. Keeping the stories straight was a pain in the a*s! Meanwhile, Jess and Becca had picked up a discussion about mascara with the other girls at the table.

She was going to have to be a lot more careful about talking about her cousins in the future. She had gotten off easily this time, but next time she might not be so lucky. What if somebody decided to ask how everybody in her family was related? Even her immediate family tree had some …long… branches. Not to mention trying to explain why none of her ‘aunts’ or ‘uncles’ were older than about thirty.

Or she could just never, ever mention her family again.

That might work.

Well, it wouldn’t be for much longer, anyway.

After May, they wouldn’t be her family anymore, and she wouldn’t have to worry about introducing all of them as ‘cousins’. They’d just be her parents’ friends, and leave it at that.

She did sort of wonder what she was going to do about her parents. Not telling them about her decision—that was an entirely different beast—but how she would be able to explain their perpetual absence once she grew too old to introduce them as such. Actually, that must be a pretty common problem, even for hunters. Even now, she and her mother were occasionally mistaken for friends or sisters, and every so often there would be raised eyebrows when the familial relationship was cleared up.

Aleda supposed that most hunters simply introduced their parents as their cousins, as with all of their other relatives. She had to admit: either way, it was pretty messy. One way or another, the question of her parents was sure to come up. In a weirdly morbid sense, her own parents were lucky in their situations. Mom was completely estranged from her parents—ever since she was fifteen years old—and Papá’s parents were both dead. Somehow, though, using either of those explanations struck her as extremely distasteful.

Maybe Nate would have some ideas about what to do.

Aleda finished her lunch without fanfare and headed to precalculus with Val. Most of the class was devoted to going over the packet of proofs that they had been assigned for the extended weekend. She tried to focus on it for a few minutes.

No luck.

There was no way she could see herself putting any kind of effort into that hateful stuff. Frankly, there was no way she could see herself needing to use it ever again in her life, regardless of how long she ended up living. Instead of doing the proofs, she scribbled out her grades from the rest of the year and tried to figure out just how well she would have to do after midterms to still pass the class. It would be tight, but she could probably manage. If it came down to it, she could always find some smart kid to do a little business with.

The rest of the period she spent reading over the Dylan Thomas poems she had marked in her brick of a literature book. All in all they didn’t look too bad. A little cryptic at times, maybe, but nothing she couldn’t bluff her way through.

‘Light breaks on secret lots, On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain’.

What the crap did that mean, anyway?

Oh well, it was better than pre-calculus.

She continued reading.

 

 

----------

 

Chorus was much better.

In Chorus, even though Nate was halfway across the room she still got to glance over at him every so often. She caught him glancing back a few times, too. Once, he even winked. She grinned back when he did that and wondered if he was up to something.

He came straight over to her when the last bell rang. He’d been doing that ever since their fight. There were too many people around for him to kiss her, but he did grab her hand and squeeze it. They walked back to their lockers: his first, then hers, chatting aimlessly.

“So what did the teachers lay on you for Thanksgiving?” Nate asked her.

Aleda wrinkled her nose. “Just a little piece of joy from each class,” she said, and told him her assignments.

“How many pages of math proofs?” he asked when she had finished her recitation, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, it’s not like I plan on doing it anyway.”

Nate laughed and tugged on her hand, pulling her close and landing a kiss on her temple without breaking stride. “That’s my girl!”

Aleda grinned a little at that comment, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “What about you?” she asked.

“Oh, well, the poet thing you know. I got George Barker for that. Various pointless crap in other classes. And I have to do that same timeline as you for history class, even though I’m in a different period. Hey, do you want to split up the work for that? Get it done twice as quick?”

She giggled. “What? You mean you’re actually going to do that one?” she teased.

“Hey, it doesn’t count as work if I get to do it with you,” Nate said.

“Cute,” she retorted, blushing just a bit.

They reached Nate’s locker and she let go of his hand so he could drop off his books. That, and his locker kind of smelled, which wasn’t surprising considering the clutter. There could be a month-old tuna sandwich in there and he wouldn’t find it until they cleaned out their lockers at the end of the year. Hell, there could be several month-old tuna sandwiches. It must be a guy thing. Aleda continued complaining about her assignments while Nate did whatever he needed to do at his locker.

“Are you planning to have any fun this weekend?” he asked, standing up at last and shouldering his backpack.

“Depends on how much of these stupid projects I decide to do,” she said, rolling her eyes and letting him take hold of her hand again. They started off towards Aleda’s locker. “And Thursday should be okay, I guess. We’re going to a cousin’s house for dinner. With my luck, though, it’ll just be a bunch of hunters talking about hunting while I have to sit there like a good little girl.”

“Yeah? What cousin?” Nate asked, grinning just a little too widely.

Aleda eyed him suspiciously. “Mike Connor. What about you? Any big Thanksgiving plans?”

“Oh, well, you know. Dinner with the family.” He paused to glance at her, fighting that same grin. “Mom… Dad… Uncle Mike…”

Aleda stopped and gasped, looking back at him with eyes like saucers. “Uncle Mike? You mean…?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Mom finally got in touch with him. We’ll all be at his big Thanksgiving dinner.”

Aleda squealed and launched herself at him, ending up in his arms a few inches off the ground. Nate laughed and set her back down. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I mean, well, I was going to wait until Thursday when we both showed up… but I couldn’t. Surprise!”

Aleda smiled to herself and squeezed his hand extra hard as they started back down the hallway.

“I’m starting to see some benefits of being related to hunters,” she commented, half to herself. Nate grinned at her approvingly.

“You think the dinners are good,” he said, “You should try getting them to help with homework.”

“Yeah. History, right?”

“English and lit stuff, too, actually. It’s not too hard to find somebody who’s met at least one famous writer. Not to mention, the stories are hilarious.”

“Ah, yes, that would definitely be Mike,” Aleda said.

“You’ve heard him tell some of his stuff?”

“He told me one of his stories of the War of 1812 one of the times he was over at my house with Papá.”

“Oh, yeah! The one where he pretended to be a sergeant and started giving them all those orders…”

“And got them completely lost?”

“And then switched sides and did the same thing!”

“Was that before or after he drank the captain under the table?”

“Geez, I don’t know. That poor captain!”

They both broke off, laughing.

“Okay,” Aleda said, “So the dinner probably won’t be boring.”

“Well of course not. Not with me there!”

“Oh, ha ha,” she said dryly. “Of course,” she admitted, “You being there will definitely help with the whole not-being-awkwardness.”

“As long as I’m helping,” Nate said agreeably.

“Yes, you’re hel– Oh, hell, not again,” Aleda groaned. They were a few feet away from her locker.

“What?” Nate looked confused.

“You don’t smell that?”

“…Smell what?”

Aleda let go of his hand so that she could pull her shirt up over her nose, and cautiously walked the last few feet to her locker. The smell got worse. She fumbled one-handed with the lock and opened it with no small amount of trepidation.

Somebody had slid several dozen bits of moldy cheese through the vent on the locker’s door.

Somebody with way too much time on her hands.

Aleda grimaced. She scooped the pungent stuff onto a piece of loose-leaf and tossed it into the nearest trashcan.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans, “That would have really sucked on Monday.”

“What was that stuff?” Nate asked.

“Somebody’s idea of a great prank,” she said.

“But… whose?”

“Whose do you think?” she practically spat. “That puta celosa, Lizzy Geiger.”

“…That what? No, Lizzy wouldn’t do something like this. It was probably just some stupid, bored jock.”

“Trust me, this was Lizzy. She stuffed my locker with trash last week.”

“Geez,” he said, his eyes wide. “What a b***h.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Aleda said, exasperated. She had finished collecting what she would need out of her locker and was now attempting to fan out the stench with the locker door.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You were right. Serves me right for dating a mortal,” Nate muttered.

Aleda shot him a look but said nothing.

“Well, at least we have off school until Monday, right?” he offered.

“Yeah. Lucky us.”

Knowing that Nate would be at the Thanksgiving dinner changed things significantly. As soon as Aleda had returned home from school on Tuesday she had pleaded with her mother to drive her to the mall so she could get something nice for Thursday. Mom had laughed, but agreed to take her out on Wednesday. Aleda had bought a new skirt and a pretty sweater for the occasion, which she was now looking at from all angles in her bedroom mirror.

“Hurry up, honey, we have to leave in five minutes!” Mom called up the steps.

“Okay!”

Alright, the skirt and sweater were pretty enough. Aleda tugged on the corner of the latter one last time before pouncing on her small jewelry box. There were only a few pairs of earrings in there, all of them silver, and a simple pair of silver bracelets. She had other jewelry, of course, but the rest of it was all cheap plastic trinkets that were fine enough for school but not for a big family dinner that Nate was going to attend.

Mara would kill her if she got wind that she had worn her silver hoops.

She fished out a pair of earrings made of dangling bits of silver that twisted around each other. The bracelets were a little bit too chunky for a holiday dinner.

Okay.

Clothes: done. Makeup: done. Jewelry: done. Hair: …crap.

She’d brushed her hair after her morning shower, but that was about it.

Mom yelled for her to hurry up again.

Not knowing what else to do with it, she pinned back the sides with some hairpins and ran downstairs, grabbing her purse on the way.

“There she is!” Mom exclaimed when Aleda finally reached the car. “Making sure you’re pretty for your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Aleda admitted grudgingly.

“My little angel is already beautiful,” Papá said. “Why she must do anything extra, I do not understand.”

“It’s a girl thing,” Mom told him. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“If you say so, mi amor.”

“Papá?”

“Yes, little angel?”

“…Could you not call me that when we’re at Mike’s?”

“I am sorry my little angel, I will do my best to refrain.”

“Alejandro,” Mom murmured, “Be good.”

“And what if I am not good?” he wondered.

Aleda rolled her eyes from the back seat.

“Then no dessert for you, mister.”

“Okay, okay, I will be good!”

…It was a long drive.

Aleda hopped out of the car as soon as they parked, leaving her parents to make out in solitude for a few minutes. Mike Connor lived in a house set back a bit from the street, surrounded by trees and a sizable amount of land. From what she knew of property prices in that area, it was likely that he had inherited the house from the last organizer for that region.

The yard looked like it would be fantastic for picnics.

There were already a couple of cars parked along the long driveway. She recognized one: Talia’s unmistakable rustbucket Ford. Aleda would have thought that a fifty-three year old would have saved up a bit more money for that sort of thing, but apparently she spent the majority of the money she earned on take-out food and clothes. Ryan had been trying to break her of the habit his entire life, but nothing he tried ever stuck. Knowing Talia, she probably thought it was hilarious that her brother got so frustrated with her. After all, what did she need to save money for? Retirement? No, Talia would be a hunter until the day she died—which, considering that she was one of those who actually survived the war, would likely not be any time soon.

Aleda grinned and walked a little faster when she saw her friend’s car. With Talia at the Thanksgiving dinner, it was sure to be the best time she’d had since moving to this boring country. The door stood open, so she went on inside and was greeted immediately by the mouth-watering aroma of cooking food. Nate and his parents were there already, helping Mike with the pots bubbling on the stove. Well, Nate’s parents were helping. Nate was lurking nearby, attempting not to let anybody notice that he was not, in fact, helping with the dinner.

He smiled when he saw her. He dropped all pretense of being helpful and walked forward to greet her properly.

“You came!” she said happily, returning his welcoming kiss.

“Yes, I did,” he said, smiling. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. “I said I was going to, didn’t I?”

“You did indeed. Been here long?”

Nate shrugged. “Ten minutes, maybe. Mom brought her green bean casserole and she hates cooking something before such a long drive.”

“And that is…?”

“In the oven,” he finished. “It was all put together, it just has to get cooked.”

“So… what’s in the pots?”

He grinned lopsidedly. “I’ll be damned if I know. Something terribly healthy, I’m sure.”

“Not everything that’s healthy is horrible, you know,” she teased.

“Yeah? Well not everyone is such a good girl like you, always eating your vegetables,” he teased right back, running his fingers up her ticklish ribs and making her yelp. She laughed, poking him right back. Somewhere in the house a toilet flushed. “Sorry, Leda, I’m just not ticklish,” he reminded her. He fluttered his fingers over her sides more insistently, causing her to squirm and giggle, trying futilely to get away.

“One of these days, Nate Burns, you’ll see!” she laughed. She finally ducked away from his perilous hands, backing away so that she could keep an eye on him in case he tried anything else.

Three steps back she collided with something large that hadn’t been there the first time she walked into the kitchen. She whirled around and found herself two inches away from a very familiar leather jacket. Ryan’s jade green eyes burned down at her.

“W-what are you d-doing here?” Aleda stammered, raising her eyes nearly a foot to see his face.

“I was invited.”

“B-but… how?” she asked, her eyes squinting in confusion.

…Talia’s car, parked out front.

“Oh,” she said, almost to herself. “…Your sister. You both came?”

“So it would seem.”

Aleda stared up at him for several seconds.

“…Why?”

A raised eyebrow was his only answer.

“He came because I told him too,” Talia replied for him. She emerged from the living room with a bag of popcorn in her hand.

Aleda finally took a breath and backed away from him. “I find that hard to believe,” she said, turning towards Talia.

The other girl smirked. “Yeah, me too. Goodness knows I don’t do everything he wants me to do.”

“I came because I couldn’t put up with your whining anymore,” Ryan said to his sister. “You’re insufferable when you’re not getting your way.”

“Aw, what a charming brother I have,” Talia said, smiling sweetly. “Popcorn, Little Leda?”

Aleda eyed the bag in Talia’s hands. “Er, no thank you. I think I’ll wait for dinner.”

“Suit yourself. More for me!” The little blonde trotted past the two of them to stick her nose in the cooking food. Aleda watched her with a baffled expression on her face.

“Is she even going to be hungry for dinner?” she wondered out loud, eyebrows raised.

“Trust me,” Ryan said. He glanced down at her. “She’s always hungry. Never gets fat, either. The girl has the metabolism of a hummingbird.”

Others arrived. Mike’s modest house was filled and there was barely room left at the table for all the food after everybody had sat down. Aleda sat next to Nate, their parents on either side of them. People she recognized—and some she didn’t—filled in the rest of the spots. A man Talia had pointed out as an old friend the last time they were in West’s bar…Zachy?...sat next to Ryan. Ryan and Talia somehow ended up sitting across from her. Talia talked animatedly with Mike, reminiscing about old war stories. Ryan just stared darkly at his plate, spearing his food with determination. He never once glanced up at Aleda, although she caught him giving Nate a cold look on several occasions. What the hell was that all about? As far as she knew, Ryan had never met Nate, although he may have encountered his parents through Mike.

Actually, that reminded her.

“Hey, Mike,” she called out over the noise of the table. “Tell us about when you were here for the Civil War.”

“You want to hear about that?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. Aleda and Nate both nodded. “Alright! Well, when I first signed up, I was just out for the pay, and something to do, especially with all those promises of donkeys and land, but I didn’t want to have to do any fighting, right? So I–”

“We’ve heard that one,” Nate interrupted. Ryan shot him another of his looks. “Tell us another.”

“Why the interest?” Mike asked.

“We’re doing a timeline for History class,” Aleda admitted. “I was hoping you could make it a little more interesting.”

“And help us do it, too!” Nate added. “You were there, you should know all about what happened.”

“Well, now, young man, I don’t know about all those dates and things, like you’d need for a timeline. That was the sort of thing for officers and the government. I’ve only ever impersonated an officer, I wasn’t really one.”

“He does have some great stories, though,” Talia said. “Like how you started that riot at the fort and got everybody to protest the color of their uniforms!”

“Oh, geez, yeah! Hey, I tell you what,” Mike said, gesturing with his fork, “Nice rich blue is a much better color than those dull grey things!”

“Wait, was this before or after you switched sides?”

Mike paused for a moment to think. “…I’m not actually sure,” he finally said. “Which side did I start on? I think I switched a couple times.”

Talia laughed. “You ought to know that better than me!”

“Well I clearly haven’t told you the stories often enough,” Mike countered.

“Oh yes you have! And they get more elaborate every time!”

“Hey, come on,” Nate protested. “What about the war? Isn’t there anything useful you can tell us?”

Aleda reddened and looked down at her plate. Sure she’d love help on the assignment, but did he really have to go and say that during dinner? She ate the rest of her dinner in silence, concentrating on her plate while other conversations buzzed around her. Across the table Ryan did the same, the two of them creating a sort of island of stony silence that went completely unnoticed by the rest of those gathered there.

After dinner was just as dull as Aleda had originally feared. She still didn’t feel like talking after Nate’s outburst, despite his attempts to reengage her. So she sat there, bored, while all the adults talked about the old times and the war and she just sat there, uncomfortably full and wishing that they could get on with it so she didn’t have to sit at that table anymore in awkward silence while everybody else was having just a grand old time.

When somebody finally suggested moving to the living room, Aleda jumped out of her seat, immediately offering to clear the table and grabbing the first of the dishes as an excuse to get away from the table and go into the kitchen and get away from all that awkwardness. She had to make a few trips but she didn’t really mind.

She unloaded the empty platters next to the sink, careful not to get any residual food on her clothes. That was the last of them. Somebody else could do the washing. Later.

“That boy of yours is quite the conversationalist.”

Aleda didn’t have to turn around to recognize the owner of that deep-toned voice. She grimaced.

“And so polite,” Ryan continued sarcastically. “Where on earth did you manage to find him?”

“Like you care.”

“No really, a boy that charming must be quite the commodity.”

She finally turned to face him, her arms crossing in front of her chest. “Says the man who pisses me off for the hell of it.”

“You needed a little encouragement.”

“You call that ‘encouragement’!?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“…Because I usually call that ‘being an a*****e’!”

“And it worked,” he persisted.

“Well of course it worked! Heaven knows you’ve got plenty of practice pissing me off!”

“I only did that on purpose once. Saturday.”

“You piss me off plenty of times.”

“He made you cry.”

Aleda’s retort stuck in her throat. “…What?” she coughed out.

“That night. You came out into the woods so upset. My birthday,” he added wryly. “You had been crying. It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, we made up.”

“I noticed,” Ryan growled. “You were plenty friendly when you got here this evening.”

“That’s what happens when you have a boyfriend, or didn’t anybody ever give you that talk?”

He sneered at her. “You know what? Never mind. You’re perfect for each other. Both as childish and rude as the other. I hope you’re fantastically happy together.”

He stalked out of the kitchen.

When Aleda finally followed, she could not find him anywhere.

He had just, simply… walked out.

On foot.

 

 

----------

 

Ryan walked through the trees that bordered the highway, cursing himself for not bringing his motorcycle. Oh, sure, they could ride together. Made perfect sense. Save gas, save money, save them both some trouble. Ha! All he ever got was trouble. That girl was bloody trouble. Every damned time he saw her she gave him trouble. Why in the name of heaven had he ever agreed to come up here? He knew it would just cause trouble. Damn it all a dozen times over!

There was no way he could have stayed in that house another minute. That spoiled little boy got under his skin like nothing he had ever experienced, and not in that frustratingly confusing way. That aggravating, horrible way that put him in the mood for destruction. He would never have believed the boy was hunterborn if he didn’t know the family. Even so, he would have sworn the child was adopted if not for the clear resemblance in his features. Looking like his great-uncle just made everything so much worse, and made the contrast between the two all that much more infuriating.

It was getting dark.

Maybe this trek could be made useful.

He felt out the surrounding area, reaching out to find a hole in the all-pervasive light. He wanted to find a hole.

…Ah. There it was. His nostrils twitched and told him it was a pair of raptors.

He groaned in appreciation for the fates that had brought him such suitable prey. He was still over a hundred feet away and he already had to fight to keep his claws sheathed in his excitement.

Of all the breeds, raptors were the most hateful.

They were the most human.

Feeders, or weredemons, fed on stolen flesh. Vampires on stolen blood. This kind, the raptors, fed on stolen life.

From what they knew of the breed, they survived by stealing the very life and light that gave meaning to the lives of humans, leaving their prey empty and forsaken. Usually they drew very little from many, not betraying their nature. It was only when they stole a person completely that their prey became like them, forced to live a non-life, stealing from others to fill a hole in themselves that would forever be empty.

There had been times in his life that Ryan had encountered a living person that could almost qualify for the lattermost part of that description. Today might just be one of those times.

They saw him coming.

They always did.

To them, he was a feast. A prize. Little did they know.

They approached each other quickly, the two of them spreading out to catch him from opposite sides. The one to his left reached him first, reaching out to grasp him. He dodged the hand and took hold of its arm, flinging it effortlessly over his head, the shoulder making a satisfying snap as the bone was torn from its socket. The raptor landed hard against one of the trees and scrambled to its feet, snarling.

Its companion attacked and was stopped short. Ryan’s claws sliced through its midsection as it leapt toward him, shredding the flesh but not killing it. Raptors were much harder to kill than feeders or vampires. He spun and sliced it again through the shoulder, stopping when his claws were still embedded in the raptor’s flesh and using the leverage to launch himself into the air and catch the first demon on his landing. The demon was knocked down, but only temporarily. Ryan tore his hand away from the other’s shoulder and thrust his claws through its back, the sharp edges brushing against its spine. When the first demon regained its footing, Ryan was ready for it. His free hand shot out to seize its throat in a grip of unbreakable steel.

He drew them both close, smirking at their plight. The one could never get out of his grip, and the other could not move without experiencing excruciating pain. This is what happened to soul-thieves. The thieves were caught.

The one caught in his hand struggled, trying to free itself. There was no point. He pulled it so close that their eyes were only a few inches apart. Ryan looked into those empty eyes and sneered with disgust. He flung it against another tree and whipped his hand around to sever the other demon’s head from its shoulders. The shell burst, finally releasing the trapped light. Ryan’s entire body tingled with pleasure when the shockwave of life passed through him, but he had already turned to deal with the other.

Nothing but a waste of air and space. The thing existed only to diminish the light of the world, and gave back nothing but frustration and emptiness. Nothing inside. No soul. No life. It was hard to believe the thing even possessed a will, because Ryan could see nothing when he looked behind its eyes.

He lifted the stunned raptor with one hand and slammed it against the tree trunk. Time to get rid of this blight. He tore its head from its body, closing his eyes and relishing the second eruption.

The feeling was delicious. His eyes blazed with the aftereffects of the darkness he had just destroyed. His body flushed with the renewed energy he always gained after such a satisfying kill.

Walking home would be no trouble, now.

If only it were so easy to get rid of all the nuisances in his life.