by E. L. Todd
“How are you two not fat?” Weston asked as she sipped her hot chocolate. “I’ve gained five pounds in the last hour.”
Calloway laughed. “We’re just lucky, I guess.” He turned his gaze away from Weston and concentrated his look outside the window. If he didn’t force himself to look away he would stare at Weston constantly, mesmerized by her smile and unparalleled beauty. The winter mist was pressing against the windows and fogging up the glass, hiding the houses in the distance. The Christmas lights from the rooftops were twinkling faintly in the background, making them appear like lost stars in the night sky.
“Let’s open presents,” Aunt Grace said. She grabbed two gifts under the tree and handed them to Calloway and Breccan. All the presents were covered in newspaper because Aunt Grace couldn’t afford to spend money on wrapping paper. Then she handed one to Uncle Scott and two for the girls.
Easton took the gift apprehensively. She was surprised she and her sister were included in this gift exchange. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She ripped apart the newspaper and pulled out a large knitted blanket that was imbedded with pictures from their winter formal. The blanket was gray and matched the black dress she wore to the dance, highlighting her beauty that was captured in the picture. Every portrait on the blanket included her and Breccan standing together and a few of Easton and her sister. Weston opened her present and found a similar blanket with a blue background that matched the dress she wore on that evening. Pictures of her and Calloway were printed across the material and she stared at it for a moment, mesmerized by the pictures and the detailed sewing. Both of the girls held the blankets in their hands for a long moment before they spoke. The light in Weston’s eyes was absent, and Calloway knew she was very touched by the unexpected gift.
“It’s beautiful,” Weston finally said. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Aunt Grace clapped her hands together happily. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You made this?” Easton asked incredulously.
“Yes.” Aunt Grace nodded.
“Her forte isn’t just the kitchen,” Uncle Scott said. “I’ve told her to be a home economics teacher. I think she would be great at it.”
“I agree,” Easton said. She stood up and hugged Aunt Grace. “I love it.”
Weston hugged her as well and they held each other for a moment. The smile on Aunt Grace’s face was enough to touch everyone in the room. She was elated when she spread joy to others—it was her purpose.
Calloway opened his gift and pulled out his own blanket. Instead of pictures of the dance, a collage of images of he and his cousin was sewn into the soft material—playing baseball at the park or running around in their swim trunks at the local pool. Most of the pictures were of their youth and the images captured their growth over the years. When Breccan opened his gift he found an identical blanket but he didn’t look touched or moved by the present. He looked at it for a moment before he returned it to the box.
“Thank you,” Calloway said to his aunt. “This must have taken you a long time.”
“A little.” She smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
Calloway waited for Breccan to thank his mother but his cousin never spoke. The silence in the room was becoming louder, and Calloway was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. The obvious disrespect and lack of gratitude was making everyone feel nauseated and tense. Calloway wished his cousin would say something, even pretend that he liked it. It wasn’t Calloway’s ideal gift but he was touched that his aunt had spent so much time making a present that he could keep forever. Her love was implanted in every inch of the stitching. Uncle Scott would berate his son if Weston and Easton weren’t there, so Breccan was lucky they were present. Calloway could see the anger and disappointment on his uncle’s face.
Aunt Grace tried to dissipate the tension in the room by handing Uncle Scott a present. “Open your gift,” she said. “That one is from Calloway.”
He opened the box and found a case to store his reading glasses. It was black and slim enough to fit in his back pocket. Uncle Scott smiled. “Now I won’t break my glasses all the time,” he said. “Thank you, Calloway.”
Calloway nodded. “You’re welcome, Uncle Scott.”
Aunt Grace opened her gift from Calloway and screamed when she saw the toaster inside. “Yes!” she said. “Ours has been broken for months. Thank you, honey,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek.
Easton opened her gift from Calloway, which was a stationary set full of lined paper and colorful pens, and she smiled at Calloway. “Thank you,” she said. “I know that I can use these.”
“I figured.” He smiled. He handed a small box to Weston and she opened the container. She pulled out a small blue ornament that was covered in glitter and gems, sparkling in the light of the hearth, and she stared at it for a moment. “It reminded me of you,” he explained.
Weston stared at him for a moment before she spoke. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the surface of the glass and felt the gems under her fingers. When Calloway saw it at the store it immediately reminded him of her. It was the only gift he saw that matched her unparalleled beauty.
He nodded then handed Breccan his gift. It was a baseball set that included a bat and a glove. Breccan was happier with this gift than the blanket that his mother hand-quilted for him. “Alright!” he said. “We’re going to have to play when the weather clears.”
When Calloway looked at his aunt he saw the saddened expression on her face. Calloway felt insensitive for getting Breccan a gift that he preferred over his mother’s. His heart tightened in his chest when he saw his aunt’s smile falter. It was never his intention to make her feel bad—now he felt like a jerk.
Aunt Grace handed Calloway an envelope. “This is from me and your uncle.”
Calloway stared at the package for a moment. He wasn’t sure why he was getting an extra gift and Breccan wasn’t. When he opened the letter, several hundred dollar bills fell out and landed on the floor.
“While we appreciate the offer, we refuse your money.” Aunt Grace smiled. “That is yours to keep.”
Calloway grabbed the money from the ground and returned it to the envelope. He was disappointed his ploy hadn’t worked; that his family didn’t take the money and assume that they forgot about the extra cash. The reason why he found a job was to help his family. He didn’t want them to pay for his mistake. “I don’t want it,” he said. “It was my fault the camera was destroyed. I don’t want you to pay for it.”
“Calloway,” Uncle Scott said seriously. “We don’t want it.”
“No,” Calloway said. “You shouldn’t have to pay for it. I really don’t mind.”
Aunt Grace smiled. “You’re very sweet, Calloway, but this isn’t your responsibility. Please stop placing money in my wallet.”
He felt defeated. Since his aunt and uncle hadn’t said anything for several weeks he assumed his plan was working. The stern look on Uncle Scott’s face convinced him that he wasn’t going to win; they wouldn’t take the money. Calloway sighed. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Aunt Grace said.
Calloway placed the bills inside his wallet and leaned against the fireplace, astonished that his aunt and uncle refused his aid. The whole reason why he got a job to begin with was to pay for the camera. He wished they would let him help.
“I’ll take it,” Breccan said.
Calloway smiled at him. “What would you buy? Food?”
Breccan shook his head. “Where did this label come from?” He laughed. “Yes, I like food but that’s because my mom knows how to cook. If she was terrible at it I would probably hate eating.”
“Well, Calloway lives here too and he doesn’t have an eating problem,” Easton said.
“I don’t have an eating problem!” Breccan said. “I’m thin.”
“For now.” Weston smiled.
They sat around the fireplace and talked for a few hours before the da
rkness of night descended outside the windows. None of the house lights were on and only the hearth illuminated the living room, sending shadows across the walls. They had more cups of hot cocoa and drank their mugs by the warmth of the fire, lying under their hand-quilted blankets while they lounged on the floor. Aunt Grace and Uncle Scott eventually went upstairs to bed while the rest of them stayed downstairs.
Easton was leaning against the couch, tucked underneath the warm blanket Aunt Grace made for her. Weston was staring at the fire while she played with a strand of her brown hair. The lock slid through her fingers then fell to her shoulder. The light of the flames highlighted the color of her cheeks, and Calloway could see the dancing flames in her eyes. Calloway forced his gaze away and looked outside the window before he became hypnotized by the sight. Breccan was sleeping on the floor with the baseball glove on his hand.
The blackness obscured the outside landscape but the street lamps illuminated the patches of grass and the fencing around the house. Christmas was almost over and Calloway didn’t want it to end. This was one of the best holidays he ever experienced and he didn’t want it to slip away. He suspected such a magical day would never come into his life again. Next year Weston may not be sitting across from him and he wouldn’t be able to stare at the beauty of the world through the reflection in her eyes. Soon, he’ll be back at school where he would be tormented again, harassed because he couldn’t afford a change of clothes or a new backpack. He didn’t want to return to reality—he wanted to live in this moment forever. Even Breccan’s quiet snores were a comfort. Calloway sighed as he stared out the window, trying to slow time by sheer will alone.
A slight movement outside caught his attention and made Calloway stiffen. It happened so fast he wasn’t sure what he saw. He was feeling sleepy and lethargic, so perhaps he didn’t see anything at all—just dreamed it—but then he saw it again. There was a quick movement but it was difficult to distinguish in the darkness. Suddenly, a shape moved under the light of a streetlamp and stood still. A Hara-Kir stopped and stared directly at Calloway through the window. Their eyes locked for a moment before the Hara-Kir disappeared back into the night.
Calloway stood up and felt his heart race. He stepped closer to the glass and peered through the window, trying to locate the wandering Hara-Kir. It was his worst fear—the creatures knew where he lived. What if they tried to attack his aunt and uncle when they went to work? Calloway knew he had to kill it before it communicated his location to the others.
Easton caught his stern expression. “What is it?” she asked.
Calloway turned to her. “A Hara-Kir is outside,” he whispered. “I just saw it.”
Weston was on her feet before Calloway could react. She marched into the kitchen and pulled long knife from the drawer and returned to the living room. Breccan woke up at the sound of their conversation and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“I’ll take care of it,” Weston said. “Stay here.”
“We’re coming,” Calloway said firmly. “One of them is at my house. I need to make sure it’s killed.”
“What?” Breccan asked sleepily.
“A Hara-Kir is outside,” Easton said.
Breccan rose to his feet. “It’s here?”
Calloway nodded. “Let’s take care of this before it can report to the others.”
Weston pressed her hand against his chest. “You’re staying, Calloway.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Easton snapped. “We are helping—get over it.”
“You promised,” Weston said.
“We aren’t hunting them,” Calloway said. “At this point we are defending ourselves. I won’t let them harm my family. You can’t stop me, Weston.”
Weston stormed to the front door. “Fine,” she said. “Do you have weapons?”
They pulled out their knives. “We never go anywhere without them,” Breccan said.
“Okay,” Weston said. “Let’s go.” They walked through the door and closed it behind them. The cold winter chill immediately dampened Calloway’s jacket and he missed the warmth of the hearth. It was slightly windy and it blew Weston’s hair around her shoulders. They marched to the driveway and looked around into the night. None of them spoke as they searched for the Hara-Kir in the darkness.
“There,” Weston whispered. She pointed to the figure down the street. They saw the cloak of the Hara-Kir fly in the wind underneath the light of the streetlamp then it disappeared. “Come on.”
They ran across the street and toward the corner. Easton ran alongside her sister.
“Why is he running from us?” she asked. “Why would he come to Calloway’s home and then take off?”
“He probably didn’t anticipate so many of us being inside,” Calloway said. “He could see us through the window.”
“That still doesn’t make sense,” she said in between breaths. “Instead of lingering outside he could have killed us before we realized what was happening. Something isn’t adding up.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Weston said as she rounded the corner. “It needs to be killed anyway.”
They turned down the street and saw the Hara-Kir sprinting down the road, heading toward the abandoned houses of the neighborhood. His form was difficult to distinguish under the street lamps and he disappeared altogether when he reached the abandoned street. They sprinted down the street toward the running Hara-Kir.
“He’s getting away!” Weston yelled.
The abandoned district had houses that were run-down and beyond repair. The wood of the buildings was torn asunder and weakened by the termites that chewed through the bark. All the windows in the houses were shattered and the pieces of glass littered the road. Refuge from the houses were scattered across the wild grass of the lawns, and kitchen sinks and broken bathtubs were randomly dispersed across the front of the houses. There was a large field that stretched out behind them toward the farmlands of the city. They stopped when they reached the deserted lane.
“Where’d it go?” Breccan asked.
“We’re never going to find it in this rubble,” Easton said.
The front door of a house creaked as it moved and they all heard the sound. Calloway stepped toward the entranceway. “It probably went inside.” He didn’t like the situation they were in. It was as if the Hara-Kir lured them to this exact spot. He felt his hands go numb. “I’m not sure about this. It doesn’t feel right.”
Weston walked to the door. “We’ll be fine,” she said. “There are four of us. Plus, I’m a trained professional.”
“I still don’t like this,” Calloway said as he looked around. “Something is off.”
Weston opened the door and walked inside. Calloway immediately sprinted after her, not wanting her to enter the house alone. Her powerful skills as a fighter were not novel to Calloway but he couldn’t let her walk into the house unprotected. Easton and Breccan followed right behind him.
When they were inside, Weston looked around the empty living room with her blade held at the ready. The house was too dark to decipher anything and Calloway could barely see Weston standing in front of him. He grabbed her hand. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Let’s leave.”
“No,” she whispered.
Calloway didn’t want to reveal his glowing orb to Weston but he didn’t have a choice. If he abandoned her to the darkness he was afraid she would be killed, so he pulled out the orb and squeezed it. The light illuminated the room and Weston glanced at the orb in his hand before she focused on the room. A Hara Kir was standing in the corner staring at them, just a few a feet away. Calloway felt his heart explode in his chest.
It started to hiss as it breathed heavily, and Calloway gripped his blade tightly. The four of them could kill this creature quickly—there was no doubt about that—but he was still frightened at the same time.
The front door burst open and Easton screamed. The sounds of running footsteps could be heard on the staircase to their right and Calloway realized what was h
appening—they were being ambushed.
The Hara-Kir in the corner rushed at Weston and she swung her blade at his heart and attacked him with ferocity. Calloway knew she could protect herself so he turned to his two friends and came to their aid. Five of the creatures were attacking them and Calloway swung his blade at the first Hara-Kir he saw. Easton screamed again and Calloway sprinted toward her. She had a deep cut on her arm and Calloway shoved her behind him, out of harm’s way, and pursued the Hara-Kir that tried to kill her. He stabbed the Hara-Kir in the heart then he saw Easton add her own blade to his chest. Calloway pulled out his blade and stabbed it once more and the creature finally fell backwards onto the floor.
There were too many for the three of them to work together, so they stabbed at their individual opponents and tried to avoid the punches and attacks by the Hara-Kirs. Breccan’s Hara-Kir had a short blade and he was aiming it for Breccan’s throat. Calloway jumped in the way and punched the creature in the face. The Hara-Kir stepped back and tried to disarm Calloway without hurting him. Finally, Calloway killed the creature and it fell to the floor. When he looked up, he saw Weston being held against the wall by the throat. The Hara-Kir was holding a glowing orb next to her chest. Calloway knew what he was doing just by watching—he was stealing her essence. Calloway ran to her and stabbed the creature in the back. It hissed in pain but continued to channel her soul inside the orb. Calloway pushed the creature with all his might and threw it to the floor. It didn’t fight as Calloway stabbed it in the chest two more times.
Breccan and Easton were fighting the last two heathens, and Calloway interceded before Breccan was cut by their blades. Calloway finished off the creature while Breccan and Easton killed the last remaining Hara-Kir. Weston gripped her throat as she watched the progression.
Their heavy breathing was amplified in the small enclosure and they all stared at the corpses littered across the floor as they caught their breath. The glowing orb was still held in Calloway’s hand and it illuminated the room. Calloway turned to Easton and looked at the gash in her arm. It was bleeding profusely and needed to be covered. He grabbed a Hara-Kir’s cloak from the ground and cut a chunk of material from the jacket then wrapped it around her cut, applying pressure to the wound.