The Nichan Smile

by C. J. Merwild

  Gus closed his eyes and concentrated. The process was now a part of him. But the silence he needed to allow his gift to unfold remained out of reach.

  “You’re incredibly lucky that we’re so close to the village. A little more and you’d be dead, you little prick!”

  “I’m sorry,” Domino hissed between his teeth.

  “A grave, is that what you want? You want to join your mother and brother?”

  “Stop! I already apologized. What else am I supposed to say?”

  “If what you want is to get killed, you should’ve said so earlier. We can dig a hole in the middle of the village, nothing easier. I’ll throw you in there myself. We’ll put a stake in it and engrave, ‘Here lies the village idiot. We gave him everything, and he refused everything.’ Sounds just like you—”

  “Shut up!”

  The injunction didn’t come from Domino, but from Gus. He opened his dark eyes and looked up at Domino and then at his uncle. He didn’t care about the repercussions. If they didn’t let him do his job, Domino would die. To his left, Ero rose to his full height, as massive and intimidating as ever.

  Gus wasn’t impressed, as if facing a wall instead of a beast. “I need silence.”

  Without further ado, he closed his eyes and took care of the wound that appeared to him in all its splendor. It was deep, perhaps deeper than any wound he’d ever healed before. He immediately spotted the affected artery that the bandage was severely compressing. Not enough to stop the bleeding, but enough to buy Domino time.

  Halfway through his treatment, Gus emerged partly from his trance. “The bandage is in the way. Take it off.”

  He was obeyed, and he resumed after swallowing a large gulp of air. Once the wound was firmly closed, he batted his eyelids and Domino reappeared before him, his breath steadier, his hand clutching his necklace and the piece of sap hanging to it, the other relaxing on the bed.

  Ero grasped his nephew’s jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes. Despite the fatigue, reacting without giving it a second thought, Gus reached out his hand to intervene. With a sharp slap, Ero pushed the young man’s arm away. Gus clenched his teeth, holding back a scream. Ero rarely restrained his blows.

  “Look at me, you worthless shit,” said the man, his eyes paralyzing Domino. “No more hunting for you. You hear that? It’s over. I’d rather kill you myself than put up with your fucking act.”

  Teeth clenched, Domino breathed heavily, the flesh of his cheeks constricted. “If it’s so hard for you, why didn’t you let me die?”

  “You just wasted your last chance,” Ero continued, speaking over his nephew’s voice. “Don’t come crying to me when I’m forced to take more drastic measures.”

  Domino’s breathing stopped. He stared at his uncle with the same tired but inflexible look, yet a cloud had just cast its shadow over his face.

  “Drastic measures” was but another way to remind Domino that a few words from his Unaan were enough to bring him to heel.

  To transform.

  Without adding anything more, Ero released Domino’s face and left the room, taking with him his rage as suffocating as a brush fire.

  Eyes on his friend, Gus took a step back and let himself fall onto the nearest bench. His hands shook, damp and tired, like the rest of him. As always when he used his gift on Domino, he’d drawn only from his own strength, refusing to use the strength of the body he treated. It would have been easier, however, for Domino’s energy felt endless. But Gus wouldn’t allow himself to rely on it.

  A decision Ero would have wholeheartedly approved.

  After it was discovered that the Ueto Clan had a pure blood in its ranks, Ero came to find the human. “Your gift, how does it work?”

  The gift was an intimate part of Gus, as much a curse as it was a precious possession. He was unwilling to share the details with the clan leader. But even though he’d mastered his gift, it remained a mystery to him.

  For all these reasons, Gus had only spoken a few vague words in response to Ero. “I use my energy, sometimes that of the patient, to speed up the healing process.”

  Half a lie.

  Gus had been in the sanctuary kitchen cleaning a huge cast-iron pot in which vegetables were cooked every day. The boy could have fit in there in his entirety. This was Domino’s task, but at the time he’d still been recovering from his brother’s death, and Gus would have done anything to lighten his friend’s burden.

  “The patient’s?” Ero had asked.

  “My own strength is limited,” Gus had explained to Ero.

  A bit of a shameful confession. Amidst all those huge, powerful nichans, he sometimes felt as fragile as a twig. Ero seemed to have had the same idea. He had sneered before shaking his head. “I see. Well, no more of that with Domino.”

  “Which means?”

  “Meaning you’re going to have to toughen up. Domino is special. I don’t want to take any chances. From now on, if you find yourself doing your Vestige tricks on him, you’ll have to settle with your own energy. And it will have to be enough. Do we understand each other?”

  Ero may not have pulled a blue stone out of his pocket, but Gus didn’t need it to be convinced. The memory of the Op crystal still shone in a corner of his memory, like the sparkle of a blade.

  To tell the truth, Gus had long since stopped using Domino’s energy, and not because Ero had threatened him once again.

  Domino stirred on the bloodied bed.

  “Lie still. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Gus told him.

  His friend fell back on the mattress and sponged his face with a clean corner of the sheet. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Gus said to him between two deep breaths.

  “How’s your hand?”

  “Probably better than your face.” Domino breathed a short laugh then massaged the curve of his reddened jaw. Heat pulsed in Gus’s fingers. It was nothing, whereas Domino’s face . . . Gus knew from experience how merciless Ero’s grasp could be. “Do you want me to look at it?”

  Domino shook his head and winced, running a shaky hand through his black curls.

  “So what happened?” Gus asked, wishing he had enough stamina to stand at his friend’s side.

  “That’s today’s biggest question. I have no fucking clue what happened, beside messing around. I just . . . I can’t concentrate lately. The boar stuck his tusks in my thigh before I had a chance to see its ugly face. I didn’t even hear it coming. I was all numb and out of it.” Domino hesitated. “It would please Belma.”

  “What about her?”

  And Domino told him about meeting his brother’s former partner two days ago. He stared at Gus, as if waiting for an answer. Not just an answer, or even a comment. He was hoping for Gus to call him on his mistake, to remind him that as usual Domino had spoken and acted without thinking. He wanted to be punished for his harsh words to Belma.

  Gus would do no such thing.

  “I ruined my chances,” Domino said. “I’m just an idiot. I should know by now. I’ve been told thousands of times.”

  “Why don’t you get some rest? You almost died.”

  “Hardly.”

  But his eyelids were already drooping.

  Domino was exhausted. Aside from this accident, he was already pushing himself too hard. Now that he’d chosen not to transform, he knew he was losing a considerable advantage. He was lagging behind his nichan brothers and sisters. Their semi-transformation exacerbated their already highly developed senses. It improved their reflexes and speed. Not to mention a strength that no human could match. Stuck deliberately in his human form—his camouflage—Domino was giving up all these benefits.

  So he’d set out to strengthen his body as much as possible. He ran from one end of the village to the other before daybreak, again and again, pushing the limits of his system. He carried heavier and heavier loads, in his arms, on his shoulders, sometimes risking injury. Within a few months, his body had become accustomed to these exercises, inspiring
him to increase his efforts. He’d now been doing them for over three years.

  Now, at only sixteen, Domino looked more like a man than a teenager. His features had hardened. His slender silhouette had thickened, with dry muscles despite the large amount of food he ate at every meal.

  “If I become strong enough, if I prove that I can hunt and fight like them, maybe Ero will get off my back,” Domino had said one night in the baths, struggling to soap his exhausted arms and legs.

  “Maybe,” Gus had replied, even if the evidence was obvious in the tone of his voice.

  “Yeah, a man can dream.”

  None of them were duped. That didn’t stop Domino from aiming to his goal. Some days, Gus would run by his side. He wasn’t sure how to reassure his friend, but he would be here for him, even if it meant fainting or vomiting his guts and lungs out in the attempt.

  Moreover, the constant effort had another advantage: it cleared Domino’s head. Don’t let me think about it, Domino had begged back then. They were both working on it. After all this time, thinking about Mora was still too painful.

  They remained silent for a while until they regained their strength. Domino dozed off, then fell asleep. Gus stayed by his side and took the opportunity to clean the blood before it dried on Domino’s skin. His own human blood was easy to clean (even though Gus rarely spilled it). Nichans’ blood was lighter, volatile in its own way. Like dry oil. It settled everywhere and crystallized like honey as it dried. It would take a lot of work to wash the blanket on which Domino slept right now. Gus was used to the task.

  After a cursory cleaning, Gus examined his friend’s thigh. The scar was pale and pinkish in the middle of this brown patch of flesh. Not his finest work, but time had been running out. One more scar, he thought. Without thinking, he massaged the skin and the muscle, felt the newly stitched rigid tissue roll under his fingers. It would regain its elasticity in no time.

  “Admit it, you can’t help touching me,” laughed a lazy voice.

  Gus smiled without looking at Domino. If he did, he would blush. He wasn’t taking advantage of his friend, only checking, as he often did, that he’d done a decent job. What he saw during his trances seemed so insane that when he opened his eyes again he was amazed that it was real. Yet he withdrew his hand, unhurriedly, but a tinge of guilt tickled the side of his mind. Gus wouldn’t deny it; he greatly appreciated the feel of Domino’s skin. It was always warm, soft, and supple despite its thickness, typical of nichans’ physiology.

  “You don’t have to stop,” Domino whispered without losing his smile. He’d regained color even though his lips were still bloodless.

  Gus felt the warmth show on his cheeks and thanked the dusk for its auspicious arrival, hiding his confusion. “I’m beginning to think you’re getting stabbed by wild animals on purpose. I thought my hands were too cold. Now you’re asking for more.”

  Gus should have kept his mouth shut.

  What was now going on between the two young men had started about a year earlier. They were looking for each other. Flirting. Mostly it was just a matter of words and glances shared around their meal, teasing each other on the edge of the river to lighten the atmosphere, to discover each other’s limits.

  Nothing more than a game

  “I’m so hot,” Domino said. “Your hands feel good.”

  “You’re hot?” Gus placed his hand on Domino’s forehead. “You must have a bit of fever.”

  “Really? What a pity! Will it ever end? Will I even survive this unfair trial of misery?” Domino opened frightened eyes colored with a glimpse of malice.

  “That’s a dramatic way to describe it.”

  “Oh, but that’s exactly how it feels.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. Nothing but misery.”

  A smile curled Gus’s mouth. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe my leg is infected. I can feel it. Right here. Here! Come on, touch it again. Quick, before the agonizing pain crawling through my veins reduces my flesh to a mound of rotten meat. Oh, no! No!”

  Biting against the laugh shaking his chest, Gus sighed. “What now?”

  “It’s too late. My poor leg. We’ll have to cut it off!”

  “Shut up.”

  “Gus, will you take care of me when I get my leg cut off?”

  “It’s your tongue we should cut.”

  Domino bit his lip. “I could still have use of it.”

  The shared allusion in this whisper warmed Gus to his core. “No need to cut.”

  “My leg or my tongue?”

  Silence.

  “Your tongue,” Gus said, accepting his friend’s meaningful words, the echo of a shiver tickling the back of his neck. “The leg’s probably fucked up already.” Domino’s smile widened and Gus exhaled a laugh. “Your leg will be numb for days. You’ll have to massage it. Would you like me to show you how to do it?”

  He finally dared to turn his black and amber eyes toward Domino. The young man was panting lightly, ready to respond to the advance. Gus really should have kept his mouth shut.

  Domino sat up in spite of his weak condition, bringing his face closer to Gus’s while giving him a chance to slip away.

  They’d come to this point more than once. Each time, Gus had put an end to it. Domino had never seemed to take offense, as if the little Gus offered him was enough for him. In the ten years they’d known each other, some things hadn’t changed. Domino was still content with what people were willing to give him.

  Gus matched Domino’s breathing, not backing down. It was getting darker, and he hadn’t bothered to light a lamp. But he could still sight his friend’s eyes resting on him, his lips half open, his broad chest and shoulders tensed by his sitting position, his belly rising and falling close to his hand.

  Handsome.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t let you heal me anymore,” Domino said softly.

  The confession took Gus by surprise. “When?”

  “You think I remember everything? Gus, you’re too good to me.”

  “All right, keep your secrets.”

  Domino smiled, the tip of his tongue running along the edge of his lower lip. “We were just kids. I think I was eight. I cut open my palm. Just here,” he said turning his hand upward, displaying a straight scar at the base of his thumb.

  Aware that the pounding of his heart was probably deafening for his friend’s sharp hearing, Gus allowed himself a hint of audacity. He reached out. His fingertips grazed Domino’s palm. “I forgot this one.” He swallowed hard as he imagined himself bending over to press his lips to the hollow of the nichan’s warm hand. “You have too many scars.”

  “Not my fault. Like I said, my life is a trial of misery.”

  Gus smiled and drew circles on Domino’s skin with the tip of his thumb.

  “You told me it exhausted you to use the gift,” the nichan went on. “Strangely, I mistook it for pain.”

  “It’s not painful.”

  Their voices were nothing but murmurs now. And Domino’s fingers gently closed on Gus’s. “Are you sure?”

  Kiss me…

  No, it was too risky. Leaving his hand in Domino’s was as well. Yet Gus failed to find the strength to retreat.

  Not yet.

  “It’s just tiring,” Gus said, “like I told you. But I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s exciting.”

  Slowly, Domino wet his lips. His eyes searched Gus’s face, studying his every reaction. They also stopped regularly on Gus’s mouth. Stirring on the bed, Domino came half an inch closer.

  Gus stood still. He wanted this moment to last, to know how far Domino would go before they reached the point of no return, if only to taste Domino’s breath against his lips. Nothing more. Gus trusted his body to react and end their game at the right moment.

  Domino smiled and tilted his head, revealing in the twilight light the vein pulsing wildly in the corner of his throat. “Exciting. Really?”

  “You’d
like that,” Gus said.

  “Too bad you can’t show me. I’ll have to settle for the massage then.”

  Unintentionally, Gus moved to the side. The back of his hand met Domino’s bare thigh. The nichan gasped in surprise. A muffled sound, almost an uncontrolled moan.

  It was time.

  Gus calmly retreated and pulled with one hand on the sheet stuck under his friend’s body. “I’m going to change that,” he said nonchalantly, brushing aside the moment. “Then we’ll go eat. If you can walk.”

  His heart was beating faster than he thought possible. His hands were sweaty, his belly a little knotted. Even so, he could pretend it was nothing, that he wasn’t taking any risks.

  Domino smiled at him—as always—shook his head to set his mind straight, and did his best to get up. But his efforts weren’t enough.

  He spent the night in the infirmary. Gus stayed by his side.

  X V I I I

  Gus’s wings extended from each side of his spine, two arched branches protruding under his skin. Because of them, he rarely slept on his back. The discomfort always led him to roll onto his side, consciously or not. But not that morning. For once, his wings fit the curves of his body, sinking deeper into the old mattress than into his shoulder blades.

  He stretched his arms above his head with a sigh of comfort and opened his eyes. It was already daylight. However, a significant difference lay right next to him. Domino was present, propped up on one elbow, watching him.

  Domino gazed at a precise point. His mouth was half open, his breath steady but panting. In the warmth of the hut, sweat beaded down his face. Domino always woke up and left before dawn. Yet he was still here, as still as a statue, as if he were in a trance. He didn’t so much as blink.

  Without a sound, Gus followed the trajectory of his friend’s gaze. Down . . . Gus’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately discovered what captivated Domino. As the human turned on the bed, the blanket had slipped, revealing the intimate shapes of his body. And beneath the thin linen of his night pants, Gus’s morning erection was unmistakable, rising to the rhythm of his breathing.

  He looked up at the other young man. Then looked down. And up again. This was indubitably what captivated Domino.