I stared at him. What was wrong with him? Had Grim meant it when he called him clinically insane? I offered him a smile and shrugged.
“It’s called unreasonable. That’s what it is.” Satan’s response was explosive. I hadn’t expected it and realized I was gripping the armrest with more than necessary force.
“Go easy,” Grim said. Why would he say that? If Satan was crazy, warning him to go easy wasn’t going to work as well as a straight jacket, and looking at him, it was doubtful if they were made in his size.
“Can’t go easy. Four hours and she’ll be at her dad’s house. Not that that isn’t just what she needs, probably the best thing in the world for her to spend some time in deep contemplation with her father, but I’m thinking she could use all the advanced warning she can get. Grim, do you remember that time down in Mexico where we cornered the Hotblood in that small town just outside Sonora?”
Grim sighed. “That’s right. It was quite memorable.”
“You went to Mexico as a doctor to help poor people?” I asked.
“No,” Grim said.
“Grim’s fine at that sort of doctoring; no one’s better,” Satan said conversationally, “but the best thing he does is…”
“Play chauffeur to a big brother who smokes too much. If I were your doctor, that would be the first thing to go.”
“Well, everyone’s got to have a vice. It keeps you humble.”
“If that were true then you’d be the humblest person in the world.”
Satan snorted. “Anyway, that Hotblood was something, wasn’t he? No blood worker, but still hot enough to pose a real problem when he lost control.”
“It shouldn’t have been a problem for you. Why’d you hesitate?” Grim asked.
“I thought I knew him.” Satan shrugged. “I don’t like killing people I know, at least without some kind of conversation first.”
“I’ll remember that,” Grim said, while all I could do was stare at them. Was I misinterpreting this conversation?
“You killed him?” my voice was shaky, so were my hands come to think of it. I held them tight on my lap.
“No, we took him live.” Satan said sounding proud.
“The Hotblood was unbalanced,” Grim said. “He needed help, and he got it. He probably should have been killed. There were some innocent people that got hurt, but Satan was feeling merciful and slow that day.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. Shelley should have been paying more attention. Your uncle Shelley,” he said leaning over to me, “is a delicate fellow. He’s easily distracted sometimes. That’s why we didn’t invite him on this trip.”
“Three broken bones can be quite a distraction. I thought you didn’t want to spend the time listening to him lecture you about the precarious state of your soul,” Grim said.
“Hey, I was sparing you, sinner,” Satan replied. “So, Dari, let me tell you about Hotbloods. The one we met, seventeen or so, lost control, burned up too hot, too fast, got in the habit of having furies. Fury is pure violence without reason. The person, it’s not really their fault. Most often they don’t even remember what happened. Trouble is, fault or no, it’s not something we can let slide.” He chuckled again for some reason, while I stared at him.
“Ok. So, sometimes people go crazy, have a personality disorder and do things they don’t remember doing? That makes sense. I guess. So you guys work for a mental hospital?” I asked. It would make sense, well, almost as much sense as them being escaped from a mental hospital, but Grim, however desperate seemed sane enough.
“No. How can I say this in a way that will make sense for you? I’m at a loss. Grim?”
Grim glanced over his shoulder at me and sighed. “Satan, after seventeen years I think it can wait a few more days.”
“You would.” Satan snorted. “How she managed to keep Dari’s heritage hidden from her for so long… well, it’s almost impressive.”
Was he talking about my mother? “My heritage?”
Satan kept his head turned staring at me and I began to feel uncomfortable but I wouldn’t drop my eyes. He reached a hand up and took off his hat. I stared for a few breathless moments at my uncle, hairless far past his eyebrows, his glowing cigar, and the black curlicues that circled his otherwise shiny scalp.
“You look Satanic. What happened to your head?” I asked.
He laughed and put his hat back on, but the image was etched in my memory. “My head is your grandfather. He’s the head of the House of Slide. How can she not know this?” He asked Grim.
“I meant your scalp.” I said.
Grim said, “Satan’s got tattoos, Dari. It’s a family tradition.” He took a moment to unbutton the cuff of this sleeve. As he rolled it while driving, I itched to reach forward and steer for him. He never swerved, however, and soon I got to see the black curlicues running around his arm to his wrist.
“Oh, how nice,” I said trying to be polite. My mother’s family was weirder than I’d thought. Traditions were supposed to have to do with food or something. Snowy was always talking about her mother’s traditions, weird Norwegian things.
I waited for the punch line of this elaborate joke, but nobody was laughing. Satan was smoking. He seemed to find his cigar rather fascinating. I kept expecting everyone to start laughing at my expense and for my brother to pop up in the front seat and grinning at me say, “I’m not really dead.” Of course that was impossible. Devlin would never do something like that. If he did, he wouldn’t be Devlin. He was gone. I’d known it when he hadn’t shown up. Devlin wasn’t late. Nothing ever stood in his way when he’d made up his mind. He was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Turning to the window I swallowed, not caring for a moment if my mental uncles decided it would be fun to drive off a cliff. What did it matter? I waited for a moment for the desperation, the emptiness to swallow me, but instead, I felt warm. My body was warm, even thinking about my dead brother? I shook my head. He was gone, not coming back, but instead of feeling the nothingness, I felt fine. What was wrong with me?
“Can I see your hand?” Satan asked, his harsh voice startling me out of my thoughts.
I held one out without thinking. He took it and pulled it to his face where he held it beneath his nose, his cigar brushing the bottom of my hand. Was he smelling me? I pulled away, and he let me. What was that about?
“How’s your sense of hearing? Mine’s pretty good, really, quite good, but scent has always been my specialty.”
“Then how in the world can you stand yourself?” I blurted out. Grim snorted.
Satan gave me a flat look I thought might hold a trace of amusement then shook his head. “You washed pretty well, but there’s still traces of blood under your fingernails.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart sped up. The pounding came faster and faster until it was in my ears drowning out all other sounds. Except for the roaring of the engine; nothing could be louder than that.
“Tell me what you remember about the walk that you went on this evening, if you don’t mind. I’m genuinely curious.”
I shook my head, aware of the shift in him the drawl that had faded to a crisper accent, his voice almost smooth over some consonants. “I went for a walk after dinner. I don’t know, I guess I needed to get away for awhile.”
“That’s what you remember? Where did you go? What direction? Did you meet anyone on the way? Whose blood is under your nails?”
I shook my head again, hard this time, feeling like I couldn’t breathe very well. My heart was beating too fast. “I don’t know. Maybe yours from when I fought you. I don’t remember what else there was.”
“Come on, Dari. You’re a big girl who can take care of herself. You can even take care of others. I want to know…” he choked and his breath was cut off. I could hear the emptiness of the car without his raspy breathing, only Grim’s dry, rhythmic breath and my gasping. Satan slumped down and I stared at the back of his head. Had he fallen asleep midsentence? Maybe he’d died, some kind of after
shock of my choking him.
“Why don’t you lean over and take a little rest like big brother,” Grim said and gave me a tight smile.
“Is he okay? What happened? Is he epileptic?” I asked.
“Oh, not really, he’s just had a long week. After an extended strain people tend to collapse. It’s not really anything to worry about.”
“It’s a good thing you’re driving then. You’re not going to do that are you?”
“Me?” Grim chuckled low. “Certainly not. Why don’t you try to relax? It’s a long drive and I believe you’ve been under quite a strain for some time as well.”
“Is that why I can’t remember? I feel like I’ve lost something. It keeps bothering me at the back of my mind, but no matter how many times I go over it I just can’t remember. Did I lose something besides Satan’s coat? What else could I have taken with me that would be so important? It makes me so mad!” The anger was sudden. I gripped the armrest and heard the leather creak under my fingers, or was that the metal?
I felt my blood pounding in my ears and wanted to smash my head against something. Maybe the glass with its sparkling chaos might make things clearer. That was crazy I knew, but somehow it made sense. Feeling pain would make the other pain go away, or at least it might lessen it. I sat with my fist clenched until my heart slowed down, my blood moved more sluggishly. I sighed and relaxed limp against the backseat. Everything was so hard, so intense. Maybe it was hormones, or grief, or how fast everything was changing. I’d figure it out later. My mother had said that my dad would help me.
“Do you know my dad?” I asked. My voice came out slurred like I’d spent some time at the dentist recently.
“We’ve met a few times. He likes his space, and I like mine, so we never had any kind of conflict. I know him more by reputation than personally. Your father may not be Wild, but he’s special in his own way. Dari, if anyone can figure out where you need to go from here, it will be him. You have much to learn, but don’t we all.”
He drove in contemplative silence while I tried to get more than platitude out of the words.
I let the sound of wheels on the road and the roaring of the engine clear my head. Grim was right. I had time. I could figure out things later. I let it go, drifting until my head was slipping down, too heavy to hold up anymore.
***
When I opened my eyes, I knew something was different. As I stared at a table, the hands that rested in front of me were not my hands. They were too big for one thing, and I could make out a faint line over the thumb, a scar, then more lines, vague under the tan, but clear to my eyes. I stayed still, staring at those hands until I heard a sound like a step on a creaky floor, and my large strong hands pressed down, smoothing the planes of the table all by themselves.
“What happened? Didya get in a fight?” The voice quivered with age. My shoulders shrugged, still staring at the table. Something pushed my shoulder with a good deal of force, but I didn’t move, stayed still, staring. “Must’ve been some fight.” There was a sigh, and a chair creaked beside me. “Wanna tell me about it?” My head shook no, a slow, definite movement that got a chuckle from the old man. “So, what happened? Did you lose?”
“That’s right.” The voice was low, warm, and came from my throat.
“Well, that’s a story worth telling. Come on, boy.”
I shook my head again, still staring at the table.
“Boy, you’re going look at me, now.” The voice quavered, but there was steel beneath the age. There was a thud that sent a shudder through my body. I took a deep breath, braced myself then lifted eyes and turned my head to meet the burning blue-eyed gaze of the ancient man. The eyes were ageless and piercing. My jaw clenched as I struggled to keep still, to hold that gaze. The old man looked down first and covered his eyes with an enormous trembling hand. “I don’t understand.”
I swallowed and made a sound, sort of like a choked laugh. “You don’t understand?” I stood quickly then walked out of the tiny kitchen through several dark rooms. I slammed a door and leaned back against it thudding my head against the wood. I stood up and shoved a hand through my hair then switched on the light. I was in a cramped bathroom with a shower crammed on one side, a toilet next to the tiny pedestal sink, an old medicine cabinet above. I stared at the mirror into a stranger’s face. The cheekbones were finely sculpted underneath the stubble, framed by auburn sideburns. Dark brows framed hazel eyes, specks like golden candlelight surrounded by a swirling mix of greens, blues and browns. They were the color of warmth, of life, of home.
***
I found myself spinning away from the image in the mirror into darkness, back to the familiar scent of Satan, Grim, and leather. I blinked panting and looked at Satan, his hat low over his eyes like he was sleeping. What had just happened? It must have been another dream. This was much better but just as disturbing as the last one. My heart was racing. There had been something in those eyes so familiar yet alien. They had shocked me, not only the beauty of them, but the sorrow, the vulnerability so at odds with the hard mouth, firm chin, the nose that had been broken a few times, all under that tangled auburn mane. I felt something trickling down my cheeks and shook my head, glad of the dark, glad Satan was asleep. It was ridiculous to cry just because I’d had a dream, a silly dream of some boy who didn’t exist. My heart constricted at that idea of him not being alive somewhere, of the dream not being true. I buried my face in my arms, leaned against the door, and kept my sobs as quiet as I could.
After a few hours of fitful dozing, we pulled off the narrow two lane road onto a gravel one lane that I didn’t notice until Grim turned the car between two trees, still driving too fast in my mind. The trees grew so thick and close they blocked out the sky over the road. If I hadn’t already seen dawn breaking I would have thought it was still night.
“Relax, it’s not going to be that bad,” Grim’s voice made me jump. I forced myself to smile, to loosen my grip on the door handle.
“It might be,” Satan said sounding grouchy.
“Nonsense. She’ll have the woods to explore and I hear her father has a wonderful library.”
“Come to think of it, you’re right. Demon hounds, Hollow touched, why she’s going to have a fantastic time getting to know all about her father.”
I turned to look out the window into the tangled undergrowth. Satan was obviously not a morning person. I hated being reminded that I didn’t know my own father. Why did he want me now after all this time? Growing up he had come once, maybe twice a year, visits that hadn’t made much of an impression on me. Even when he was right in front of me, there had been distance between us. How was I supposed to figure things out, to adjust with someone who had never been interested when I was stable? All I knew about my dad, facts that had registered, was that he was a vegetarian and painter who believed in self-sufficiency. What part could I possibly play in his world? With my mother I knew what I was going to get. She would leave me alone. If we did talk, it would be about chemical formulas, something she was working on in the lab, or something I was learning in school. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the window.
It was a long winding drive, at least a few miles, but it wasn’t long enough. There was a place in the woods where the trees grew so thick together they looked impassable. I looked past Satan, and saw a barrier on the other side as well. I didn’t have much time to wonder about that because the trees thinned until on Satan’s side the woods dropped back altogether revealing so much space and light it took me a moment to register the meadow sloping down out of sight. I blinked taking in the mist that turned a simple meadow and the forests above into something mysterious. It was still early by the light, maybe six, six thirty. Would my dad even be awake? If anything was less comfortable than seeing my father, it was waking him up to see him.
We followed the curve of the road, the meadow on one side and the woods on the other, until a house came into view. It was startling to see something manmade after all that nature. Look
ing at my dad’s house, I felt uncomfortable, but there was also the awe at the beauty of stone mixed with wood. The building didn’t have any clear architectural style. It didn’t look as though an architect had anything to do with it. I got the impression that it had sprung up overnight, a dream complete with plumbing. At least I hoped it had plumbing.
As we drove closer, masses of greenery obscured the lower portions of the house. When we finally pulled to a stop, I saw my dad on the front porch, but when he walked down the steps, I lost sight of him. It left me with an unsettled feeling, like he’d vanished instead of simply walked across the yard.
He stepped out through a gap in the hedge onto the gravel drive a few feet away from the car. It was him, but he looked different in the morning light. His long hair looked silver instead of gray; his narrow face didn’t seem to have any wrinkles. The way he stood was the biggest difference. Where his shoulders had been hunched at the funeral, now he stood straight and tall, taller maybe than my uncle Satan. He looked past the car towards the woods. I almost turned to see what he was looking at, but then his gaze shifted to me, into me. I saw cool water then turbulent waves crashed into me, drowned me. For a moment I sat frozen while those silver eyes sliced all my rational thoughts to shreds. He blinked and went back to studying the woods above me while I gasped and put my head between my knees, glad for a moment to focus on the smell of Satan, leather seats, and muddy floor mats. It hadn’t exactly hurt, it felt like I’d been taken apart and reassembled like a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle.
“Oh, yeah, you’re going to have fun,” Satan said, putting a hand on my head in a way that might have been comforting if he’d had a lighter touch. “Maybe I should have warned you about looking at your dad. He’s got a look that can strip you to your soul.”
“He doesn’t usually do that,” Grim put in.
“Yeah. He usually asks permission before he chews you up and spits you out. Dariana, if you can breathe, it’s time to go meet your dad,” Satan said.
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