Sanguine Mountain

by Jennifer Foxcroft

  “Mexico? But you don’t look—”

  He laughs. “I’ll get to that bit. Trust me.” Rocks gives me a look that tells me he wants me to listen. I smile and pretend to zip my lips shut. “It was when the Spanish invaded. Unfortunately, we never kept a written history, so depending on who you talk to will depend on the version you get told. This is my leader’s version. In a desperate attempt to beat the invading Spanish, a shaman invoked a charm and transformed the whole village into bats.”

  “Transformed?” Holy fudge, a man did this to Rocks. “Into bats?” Not exactly an animal I’d pick if I wanted to defeat an invading army.

  “Yes, the village worshipped a Bat God.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but one of Rocks’ eyebrows disappears under his hair. I close my mouth. He smiles, his eyes shining in the lamplight, and my chest tightens. He’s sharing his deepest, darkest secrets with me. That level of trust is more than I’ve given him, and I can’t help but feel secretly thrilled.

  “The plan was to swoop down behind the enemy, return to our human form and slay the soldiers before they could even draw their weapons. The Camazotz—that’s what we are—were literally to become what our name means—death bat or sudden bloodletter.” I shiver, unable to stop myself. Rocks turns and pulls a leg up between us on the bench so he’s facing me. He looks into my eyes. “You know that’s not me. Right? I’d never hurt you.”

  I nod and swallow. Trust is something earned and so far Rocks has done nothing to deserve my dark thoughts. I'm letting Hollywood movies cloud my judgment. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Even with the bat warriors, the battle was lost. The only survivors were those who were Camazotz and they fled. The shaman was slain during battle, and it was expected that the Camazotz would return to human form once his power ended in death. But, they didn’t. We’ve been cursed in this form ever since. The others believe that being Camazotz saved us so that’s how we’re meant to exist. I disagree.”

  My mind is reeling. “So you’re a bat, a Camazotz, because of a magic spell? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Rocks swivels toward the gardens and sighs. His fingers trace patterns on the back of my hand. “Do you believe in magic, Connie?”

  Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Ahhhh …”

  “Not even after you’ve witnessed me flip?”

  “Oh, right. But …”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in. Makes you wonder about people being burned alive for witchcraft throughout history, doesn’t it?”

  I know my eyes must be the size of dinner plates. “Oh my God, they were witches? I just assumed they were normal people persecuted for being different or modern.” I sit and think about what Rocks has revealed to me about history. Witches really do or did exist. Holy crabapples. “So if it’s magic, then you can find a spell to get turned back to human if that’s what you want. Right?”

  He smiles again, but there’s sadness in his eyes I don’t like. “Know the address of a local witch I can hire?”

  5.

  1982

  “So I’m an aeronaught and you’re a Camazotz?” My mind has been working overtime. My curfew on Saturday night cut my question time short, and it’s tricky to know what’s appropriate or inappropriate to ask about being a bat. “I’ve got so many questions it’s driving me insane.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  Rocks—decked out in a black and grey paisley vest—was waiting on the porch swing when Mini and I pulled in after school. She practically leaped from my arms when we got within reach of him. Rocks hesitated, but in keeping with my new vow to follow my instincts and trust him, I handed her over. She snuggled into his chest like they were long lost buddies as we walked through to the kitchen.

  “Aero is a prefix that means air travel and naught means nothing. So one of no air travel—roughly. That’s you.”

  He seems excited. Mini is touching his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Rocks let’s her explore his face. I bite the inside of my cheek. Seeing my little sister so enamored with this giant Goth boy is the cutest thing I’ve witnessed in a long time. There’s a calm patience that seems to ooze from him. It’s contagious and I like the feeling. I can’t remember ever being this relaxed around a guy.

  Rocks explains that the only vampire bats located in the USA these days are Camazotz. Plain old vampire bats that are simply bats are only located in Central or South America. Regular bats, with dark brown fur, are smaller and would easily fit in the palm of my hand. Rocks is bigger, longer and heavier with a wingspan of a foot and a half and has jet-black fur.

  “So how did the Camazotz end up in Georgia?”

  “Over the centuries, we’ve been persecuted. Feared. The remaining Camazotz migrated further and further north to find a place that didn’t worship the Bat God. My colony has been in Georgia since just before it was founded.”

  “Your colony?” Every piece of the puzzle I get about Rocks makes me realize I need ten more. “Is there more than one?”

  “The original Camazotz sought safety through integration with the early settlers. But it was impossible to hide their secret. If any Camazotz has a child, that child will be Camazotz even if one of their parents isn’t. Makes life complicated. The integration caused a rift and three colonies formed as a result. My colony believes that the shaman gave us a gift, and that aeronaughts are full of fear and ignorance.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “That we’re the ignorant ones.” He shrugs. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore, I just know how I feel. And we’ve been so isolated that your world is a complete mystery to us now.”

  I walk around the marble island to stand next to him. I understand what it feels like to be the odd one out in my family. The difference is that I’m the one alienating myself. My parents love and believe in me. What I can’t imagine is what it would feel like to have everyone else pointing the finger at my differences.

  “I’m going to help you sort this out. I swear.” His long hair shades his eyes and he doesn’t flick it back. “I’m going to fix us a snack.” He nods. “Can you strap her in her chair?”

  Rocks goes to work, and I grab Mini a handful of raisins and a kid’s sized yogurt. Without me asking, Rocks drags up a stool and assists Mini with her spoon. I pull Mom V2.0’s baked beans from the fridge. Popping the microwave open, I load it up and start hitting buttons. Rocks is by my side and regarding the machine. When he notices my stare, his cheeks flush slightly.

  “It’s a microwave,” I say hesitantly, hoping I’m not insulting him.

  “Why did you put the food in it?”

  “You don’t have any stuff like this?” I indicate to all the kitchen appliances.

  He shakes his head and looks away. “No need.” I don’t want to make him feel embarrassed about who he is, but then I focus on the ‘need’ part. Ugh, blood. As much as I’m cool with his magical powers of transformation, the blood drinking freaks me right out. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pull him across the kitchen and show him the bread and the toaster.

  “I want four slices toasted golden brown. Don’t burn ‘em.” His eyes widen and a smile begins to form. “You can adjust the cooking time with this knob here.” It’s Christmas in August. He positively beams when the toaster pops up the golden hot bread, but the smile quickly fades and he walks back to sit with Mini.

  “You must think I’m a freak on so many levels.” The curtain of hair covers his eyes and he leaves it there. I’m beginning to see that he does hide behind it, and this boy shouldn’t hide—ever. He continues, “I hate seeing that look on your face.”

  What look? God. “Rocks, this is really new to me. It’s going to take some adjustment time for both of us. I don’t mean to look at you funny. I … well, it’s hard to believe you’ve never used a toaster before. Sorry.”

  I push a massive pile of beans on toast toward him. These beans are to die for. He’s in for such a treat.

  We both moan in unison and smile
, savoring the first mouthful. It’s a secret family recipe. I wonder if I’ll have to steal Mini’s copy. Ugh, stop it! Rocks is by my side, and I don’t want to waste the opportunity thinking about my family crap. He continues to moan and groan and devours half the beans so fast that I’m not sure he even tasted them. I’ve hardly touched mine because I’m too busy sifting through the questions I want to ask and staring at the joyful expression that’s back on his face. When Mini grunts at him and holds out her fingers, Rocks grabs her yogurt spoon and scoops up a mouthful of beans from his plate. It’s like watching the Hallmark channel—my heart is slowly melting into a pile of pink goo.

  “I've only just started discovering the gourmet delights you have to choose from. I don't have much money so I have to be wise. Your world, Connie, and the technological wonders it has to offer. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

  “Technological wonders?”

  “At the colony, they abhor advancement. Technology—even electricity—is used sparingly. We live a simple life in touch with our instincts. Imagine being stuck in 1865. It’s going to be our downfall. Our numbers are declining, and we need to modernize, but nobody listens to me.” He stops eating. “Except you. That's why when I met you, I was so absorbed with how much alike we were that I forgot the time. I flipped.”

  The mention of us being alike sends shooting stars whizzing around my stomach.

  “You said you can’t control it. Is that why you flipped when I screamed at you? How on earth do you even do it? Does it hurt? Can you—” Rocks’ fork has stopped mid air. I think I’ve stunned him with my curiosity attack. “Sorry.”

  He looks away and continues eating. “It’s okay. I— I like that you’re interested, but I, um …” He takes a deep breath. “I'm just not used to talking so much about myself. Feels weird.” He gives me a little smile and looks back at his plate. His quiet humility is endearing and is doing more strange things to my stomach. Imagine the football team being this humble—yeah, right.

  I’ve only eaten half my beans; I’m too distracted, and push my plate to him. Rocks isn’t at all offended at the idea of leftovers. He gives Mini two more spoonfuls and digs in, talking around chews.

  “Okay—the screaming? Ugh, I’m gonna be in big trouble for that. I’ve given you …” He’s thinking. “What’s that stuff that makes Superman weak?”

  I laugh. “Kryptonite?”

  “Yes. I’ve given you my kryptonite.” I go to the fridge and pull out two cold sodas. I show Rocks both and when he can’t decide between cherry and regular, I grab two glasses. “Most of the colony wants to be Camazotz. It’s natural for them. I love being human, so I stay like this unless I have to feed. If I don’t flip, after thirty-six hours my body forces a flip. The shaman must have done it to stop any of the villagers that didn’t want to be bats from staying human. So that night, I was going to flip when I had to, but I hadn’t planned on being with you when it happened and couldn’t stop it.” He smiles, but there’s a trace of sadness on his face. “No, it doesn’t hurt. And honestly, I have no idea how I do it. Magic.”

  I have a burning desire to whip out a notebook, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be allowed. “And the screaming?” The look on his face tells me he likes regular cola better. Me too.

  “That’s our one weakness—nature’s mistake. Bats rely on echolocation to hunt. Our hearing is key.” Thank goodness I did well in biology.

  Rocks explains that for some reason there is a frequency range that knocks them out, but wouldn’t knock out a regular bat. And it just happens to be around the level of a woman’s high-pitched scream of terror. “You can’t tell anyone this stuff.”

  When he looks at me, my heart flutters in my chest. He’s so vulnerable, trusting me completely. I feel the weight of the responsibility sink into my gut. He has just exposed his Achilles’ heel. I trusted him with my secret, but it’s nothing in comparison to his.

  Up in my room later, Mini is emptying my nail polish suitcase all over the floor. Rocks is sitting with one leg folded underneath him in the wingback, flipping through The Monster Hunters Handbook, and I’m at my desk painting ladybugs on my nails. It occurs to me that I would never feel this comfortable hanging out with any of the guys from school.

  “So you can be a bat forever and not flip, but you can’t stay human forever without flipping. Why?”

  “If I could have five minutes with that shaman.”

  I nod in understanding and wonder how many times he’s thought that. As little as I know about my history, at least I’ll get answers when I find my real parents. Rocks only has stories handed down from people he doesn’t share beliefs with.

  “Is it my turn yet?” he asks, looking hopeful.

  I cringe. He’s so interesting; I can’t help myself. I haven’t shown him anything since we left the kitchen. “Can you please show me the interweb?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “Internet or world wide web.” I pull out my phone. “Here.”

  “It’s on that? I thought that was a cellular telephonic device.” He’s puzzled, but soaks up every word I say. I know by his focus that I’ll never need to tell him anything twice. I explain the wonders of the smart phone and how many of us are completely addicted and totally dependent on them. The awe is apparent all over his face when I hand my phone over. Before I finish explaining the apps, engine noise floats in my window.

  Rock is out of the chair and across my room before my eyes can focus. A quick peek shows Dad V2.0’s van parked in our driveway. He works for a courier company as an accountant, but his company car is a delivery van—something about bigger, better advertising. It’s so embarrassing.

  I pick up Mini, smile at Rocks and leave the room. He understands that I don’t want to draw Mini’s attention to his ‘exit’ style. A second later, when I poke my head back in, it’s empty. My lace curtains flutter in the hint of breeze. The awe I have for his ability is growing by the second.

  * * * * *

  The next night, Mini is in her high chair waiting for her mother to feed her. Kelly is at the stove and the kitchen smells very similar to my favorite Italian restaurant—there’s still a bit of garlic to get through.

  “Rocks,” she says and looks at me. “Rocks.”

  Sugarplums. Rocks didn’t stop by today so I don’t know why she’s thinking about him. Then again, he’s all I’ve thought about so I can’t blame the little tike.

  “Connie, I hope you’re putting her sun cream on if you’re out in the garden,” she admonishes.

  “Yes. Cat.” I walk the plastic cat figure across her tray, praying it distracts her. “Meow.”

  “Mmm-ow,” she mimics.

  “Honey, did you hear the NFL is asking for $765 million to settle the concussion lawsuit?” he calls from the adjoining family room.

  “Con, go tell your father dinner is almost ready please?”

  Well, I’d like to be able to tell him, but I don’t know who he is, Kelly. I fill my lungs with air and remain mute as I go retrieve Mini’s father from the other room. Not having answers is making me crazy. There’s an anger constantly bubbling inside me like hot mud, and the only time I don’t feel it is when I think about Rocks. I want to move past feeling pissed off with them but have a feeling it will linger until I find what I’m looking for.

  Until I know who I am.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” He lowers his newspaper. “I was thinking. Do you want to come rappelling with me on the weekend?”

  WHAT? I’m tempted to dig my finger around in my ear to dislodge whatever is making me hear ridiculous invitations to highly dangerous activities suggested by none other than that man who wrapped me in cotton wool for sixteen and a half years.

  “Huh? Since when have I been allowed to go rappelling?” The only word to describe his look is sheepish.

  “Your mother and I have spoken. This job made you so happy last week we thought maybe we’ve been a little, well, over-protective. Maybe it’s time you tried some new experiences—be
fore college. What do you think?”

  Oh, I could kiss Tiff and Brandy. It’s the remnants of the ‘teach her to be confident and defend herself’ argument they used to get me the job tryout.

  “And ruin these?” I say, holding up ten hand-painted ladybugs. I can’t believe I’m allowed to go rappelling now. The sad thing is that if he’d asked me before I read that stupid letter, I would have jumped at the chance to hang off a mountain ledge with my hero.

  The hole in my chest widens a little, but I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. I have to keep Parents V2.0 at arm’s length or I know I’ll cave and come clean. Saying no hurts. If this is what it feels like to be an adult, then I want to stay a teenager forever. I wonder if this is his way of telling me he’s noticed I don’t hang out in the family room with him anymore.

  “You can do them again.”

  “These are one of a kind original works of art.” I wiggle my fingers at him and pray my face doesn’t betray that I know how stupid I sound.

  “You’re being ridiculous, honey.”

  I know I am, but it’s the best lie I can think of on the spot. I can’t exactly tell him he’s in the bad books for keeping my family tree a secret. Jeez, this lying game is a tricky business.

  “No, ridiculous are those helmets y’all wear. Have you looked in the mirror? And dinner’s ready.”

  * * * * *

  I ditch my friends outside school with the lame excuse of Kelly teaching me to bake her death by chocolate. I cross all my fingers and pray they don’t ask to join the lesson.

  “Cooking lessons on a Friday night?” Mary Lou says with an arched brow.