Moments later, Famine found Devon in the center of the Borderlands coming from a run-down human spirit restaurant. He was picking his ghostly teeth with a ghostly toothpick when approached.
“I’m so glad to see you.”
Devon threw the toothpick to the ground and put out his hand. “Hello, sweetie. I’m glad to see you, too. Are you okay? I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Famine took his paramour’s hand and sighed. “No. I had a major fight with my family…and my friend. We all said some awful things to each other.”
“Was it about last night?”
The two of them had gone down the street that the restaurant was on and turned around a corner to another. This road was filled with busy curio shops, bookstores, food markets, and produce stands run by a myriad of creatures. A ghoul with large bugged eyes, a half rotted face, and wild black hair was handing a human arm wrapped in butcher’s paper to an anxiously waiting troll. Nearby a short purple goblin in a trench coat, fedora, gloves, and sunglasses was selling rotting oranges and apples to a cackling silver-haired female witch with a hook for a hand. A werewolf was putting out new issues of Teen Creature on his rickety wooden newsstand, much to the delight of a squealing group of misshapen monsters. Nor far away, a refined looking mummy in clean neatly bound bandages had set up a pushcart with candied hearts and brains. Famine took a moment to think about buying something from him before answering.
“Yeah. They were pretty mad about me coming home drunk.”
“Let them be mad. You’re getting older now. You have to show your independence…do whatever you want. You don’t need them to tell you what you can do.”
“They still think of me as a little boy, I think. It wasn’t that long ago that I got out of the cemetery.”
Devon wrapped his arm around Famine’s and leaned closer. “But you got out. That’s the point. There’s a whole new world to explore now. You said yourself you didn’t know what you were. What better way to find out?”
“I tried telling them that. They just think you’re a bad influence.”
“Ha!” laughed the ghost. “That’s what I’d expect. Leave it to them to bring that up. They like keeping you on a leash. They like keeping your mind closed to new things. That’s not the way a real family behaves.”
Famine let go of Devon and walked over to the mummy. The ancient thing tried smiling but ended up breaking off bits of his face in the process. When it spoke, dust flew from its mouth. “What’ll you have, sonny?”
“One heart, please.”
The mummy rummaged through his black striped pushcart and produced a human heart uncased in a bright red candied shell. It was on a white wooden stick. “That’ll be six spirit wisps, please.”
Famine thrust his hand in his pockets and came out with the right amount of currency: six swirling white ghost-like forms with agonized faces. They moaned and screamed as they were exchanged between the two unidentifiable and misshapen monsters. The mummy deposited them in a metal strongbox and gave him a nod of appreciation. “Thanks, sonny. Have a good day.”
He waved at the vendor and turned back to Devon as he began licking the heart. It had just the right amount of rot and sweet taste to it. “No, they’re really not like that.”
“Who?”
“My family. Sorry, I was hungry for one of these,” said Famine indicating the glistening heart.
“Really? If they were so enlightened, why are you here? You would’ve been with them having some silly lunch now if that they were so open minded.”
Devon had a point there. Why did they react so violently? Why had they all been so ready to rally against his new friend? Were they really just a bunch of talkers? Famine’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts. Part of him wanted to think there was still good in them all, but part of him thought that they were too controlling and narrow-minded. Real families were supportive, not destructive.
“You really want to shock them?” asked Devon, nuzzling up to Famine.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, they made you leave didn’t they?”
In reality, it was Famine himself who left; the family just goaded him along. But if they hadn’t done that, he would’ve stayed. So…yes…they did make him leave. They made him feel like an outsider in his own home. He answered blankly. “Yes…”
“Then get them back. Make them really see how much of a rebel you are!”
“How?”
Devon got in front of Famine, held his hands, and looked directly into his eyes. “Steal your uncle’s cart.”
Everything around him suddenly stopped and went silent. It was only a world of quiet white. He had heard what Devon said: steal Ankou’s cart. It was odd how that suggestion had cut him off from the rest of the world. The thought was both frightening and exciting. It spoke of outright defiance…and careless disgrace. It would speak volumes to his family. They would think him bold…and they would think him heartless. The temptation was great. Giving in to anger would sate his thirst for making them pay for their distrust but it would also put him in a much worse position. The world began to come into focus again. Devon stood staring at him with anticipation.
“Well, what do you say? Will you steal it?”
“I don’t know…it’s awfully risky.”
“Of course it is! That’s the point! Show them who’s really in charge of your death!”
The more Devon talked, the more sense he made. Who were The Reaper and Ankou to say who he could talk with? What right did Morrigan have to throw her friendship in his face? No one knew him like they thought they did. Stealing the cart would take care of that. He took a couple more licks of the heart before actually biting down into its sickly sweet and sour core.
“Come on. Show me you’re the guy I think you are. Show me what you’re really made of.”
That was it. He didn’t have to prove himself to anyone except himself and Devon. Devon deserved it because he understood. No one else did. He took one more bite of the heart and swallowed hard. “I’ll do it, “ Famine answered defiantly looking back into his boyfriend’s eyes, “I’ll take that damned cart and I’ll show them.”
Devon wrapped his arms around Famine and squeezed hard. “That’s it! Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
Famine knew he had sealed his fate with those words. He glanced up to the turbulent sky above. The black and purple clouds roiled and churned. Just as Devon let him go, the first drops of cold heavy rain hit his face. He threw the rest of the heart to the ground where it landed with a cracking sound. The street vendors began to pack up their wares and close up or leave the streets altogether. They two teenagers joined hands and walked towards the Borderlands as the rain began to fall harder. It didn’t matter. Something had to be done…the rain be damned.
Keeping Up with the Deadlanders Page 16