The notion that he’d come over and cooked for me was incredible, and another testament to the reasons I adored his sons. He’d raised them after all. They were incredibly good, decent men because that’s the example Professor Pops set for them. I had to wonder how he and the guys had gotten in, and where all the food came from. My refrigerator held soy yogurt, apples, raw almonds, and orange juice, and I had some whole-wheat pasta and tomato sauce in the pantry, but that was about it. I wasn’t going to ask him though. That would’ve been rude. Besides, I was too busy stuffing my face with fruit covered waffle. Gabe sat at the island, his back to me, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him during breakfast.
There’d been a lot of grunting, and chewing going on after Sebastian uttered a quick prayer, but not much else. The food was divine. Afterward, I helped Professor Pops clean up the kitchen. Salvatore and Bart had apologized, clearing the air.
When it was just the two of us in the kitchen, Professor Pops filled the large kitchen sink with hot water, and dish soap. A perfectly good stainless steel dishwasher had been installed next to the sink, but he wanted to hand wash the dishes. “You know we could throw these in there.” I pointed at the dishwasher.
“True, but where’s the fun in that?” He wriggled his eyebrows, and I giggled.
He handed me a plate. I dried it, and placed it in the cupboard.
Casually, he said, “Your sixteenth birthday is in two months.”
“It is,” I agreed.
“Have you made any plans yet?”
I stood beside him and took another plate he handed me. It was hot, and I hurriedly dried it. “Not yet. My parents won’t be back from St. Bart’s, so I’m not sure.”
He didn’t say anything right away. I looked up. His jaw flexed and his eyes were scrunched as though he had to concentrate to wash the plate.
Professor Pops had thick gray hair. He was tall, and lean. I figured he’d probably been very handsome when he was younger. As it was, I’d say he was distinguished. He had on a pair of tan slacks, a red and white checkered button-up shirt, and a tan sweater with dark suede patches at the elbows. On his feet were loafers, and in his left breast pocket were silver wire-rimmed reading glasses. He was the epitome of what I believed a Professor of Religion should look like. Well a Professor of any kind, really.
After I put away the dried plate, I came back, for the next one. “It isn’t a big deal. Maybe I’ll invite the guys, and Cindy over to watch a movie. That’ll be fun.”
He blew out a breath, and I deliberated if I’d made him mad. “Professor?” I asked, tentative.
He dropped the plate in the soapy sink, letting it splash, and turned to me. Taking the towel in my hands, he dried off his, and then placed it on the counter. “Snow, I know I’m not your father, but over the years I’ve come to look at you as an adoptive daughter. I’m very fond of you.” His eyes glowed, and wrinkled as he spoke.
“I know,” I said, my insides tingling with the sweet warmth of love. I was curious as to what he was getting at.
“I’ll call your father, and stepmother,” the word came out like it’d been laced with acid, “and ask their permission, of course, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to throw you a birthday party at my place. Something big, grand, something that declares to the world what an amazing young woman you are.” At the last part he squeezed my shoulders affectionately.
Unbidden tears crept into my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. What was up with me? “You don’t have to,” I said.
“I would be honored if you’d allow me to. This old man hasn’t ever had the chance to throw an extravagant birthday party. All the boys ever want is pizza, and some sort of activity.”
“An activity sounds great,” I inserted hurriedly. I didn’t want him to have to go to all the trouble.
“No, please. Let me do this. May I?” He took one of my hands and held it between his. They were soft, and warm.
“Okay,” I said, a little shyly.
“Excellent.” He patted my hand. “Now, about Gabe?”
I swallowed a lump I hadn’t known existed in my throat. “Gabe?” I squeaked out.
“Yes.” He nudged me over to the table and we both sat. “The boy—”
The whole group forced their way into the kitchen, and one of the guys cleared his throat, interrupting whatever Professor Pops had been about to say.
Dorian spoke, “We were wondering if we could take the train into Boston?”
Professor Pops patted my hand, and stood. “That sounds intriguing.” He looked from Salvatore to Bart. “Bathrooms clean, first. Then you may go. Just be home before midnight.” He handed Dorian some money he’d pulled from the wallet in his back pocket.
“You have your cells if there’s an emergency?” They all nodded, and I hid a smile behind my hand. They were men, the two youngest were Gabe, and Dorian, and they were both seventeen. Four would be graduating from high school this year, but they knew Professor Pops cared for them a great deal, and would never intentionally disrespect him. A twinge of longing surged through me.
Gabe walked over and asked, “Want to come, Snowflake?”
The guys all added their assent. I searched Gabe’s face. Did he really want me to tag along? It seemed that he did. “Sure. Sounds fun.” The brother’s took off, leaving Professor Pops and I alone. I wanted to bring up Gabe, and ask him what he was going to say, but I couldn’t figure out a way.
Chapter 6
After showering and blow-drying my short hair, I searched for an outfit that wouldn’t embarrass the guys. It frustrated me to realize I cared, and it was all Gabe’s fault. Before last night—before his words, and his kindness, and his snuggling with me without trying anything, and his kiss on my cheek—before any of that, I hadn’t given what I wore a second thought. I threw on any old pair of jeans, and any old t-shirt. Not even the gorgeous Cindy Croswell, and all of her helpful hints, had done any good.
It. Was. Gabe.
He’d said I was sexy, and he’d made me feel sexy, so I wanted to be sexy.
“Ugh, I’m a dork,” I hollered at myself, throwing on a pair of baggy faded jeans, and a vintage Def Leppard t-shirt. At least the sleeves were a light blue that matched my eyes. That seemed girly. I didn’t have makeup but I did have Cherry ChapStick. I applied some to my lips, after brushing my teeth again, and fluffed my hair a little. “Cindy would be so proud,” I mocked my reflection in the mirror. Adding a pair of black converse, and a black leather belt, I grabbed my wallet and headed next door, to Adam Henry’s house.
Calling Professor Pops’ house a house; well it was a downright lie. The thing was a sprawling mansion. An acre of land separated my house from his, but the mansion sat on ten acres. The amenities included a tennis court, a basketball court, a heated swimming pool that could be indoor or outdoor, a three-hole golf course, and a putting green, plus the house.
I dinged the bell, and waited. You’d think a butler would answer the door, but no. It was Salvatore. His shiny black hair was wet, and pulled into a tiny ponytail.
“Rockin the pirate look, I see,” I said as I stepped into the foyer.
Almond colored eyes registered shock, as did his gasp, and the way he dramatically put his hand on his chest. I couldn’t help the laugh that started in my belly and bubbled into my throat.
“Where’s your poofy shirt, and pantaloons?” I asked, following him into the kitchen. He had on a getup similar to mine, baggy jeans and a vintage shirt. His t-shirt was black though, and had ACDC across the chest.
Pulling open a door on the large side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator, he grabbed a Mountain Dew, and popped the top. “You want one?”
“Um, duh,” I responded, to which he grinned, and tossed me one. I flung up my hands, in an effort to at least block the can, but a hand reached in front of me, and grabbed the can from the air.
“Dude,” Dorian yelled. “Did you forget who this is?” he asked pointing in my direction with a thumb.
I sm
acked him in the arm. “I totally had it.”
“Uh-huh, sure you did.”
Dorian looked freshly showered too. His sandy hair was still wet, and slicked back. He always dressed so nicely, and today was no exception, a light green polo with dark jeans, and a brown belt that matched his shoes.
“You’re so pretty, Dorian.” I grabbed the can of soda from him and cracked it open.
He smirked. “Don’t I know it.”
One by one the guys sauntered into the kitchen, each handsome in his own way, each one dear to me. These guys were my family. I’d do anything for them, and I knew the feeling was mutual. After last night’s freak out, I figured the guys might act weird toward me, but it was same ole, same ole, and for that, I was grateful.
Gabe walked in last. He looked just as he always did. Gorgeous brown hair, mischievous green eyes, olive skin, and a body of lean muscle, but everything was different too. Those arms held me last night. Those lips had kissed my cheek. He’d made me a promise, and as he walked toward me I knew he meant it. The closer he got the warmer my body became. Ignoring his brothers he placed a kiss on my cheek, as though resealing the promise he’d made earlier.
One of them, Sebastian, I think, did the whole fake cough thing, and said, “Jerk.”
Gabe turned, and responded, “Yeah, you’re just jealous. Get over it.”
Jealous, I thought. No way. But as I scanned the faces of the brothers, I realized something. Sure they were family, but we weren’t related, and they saw me as potential, not a sister. How long had this been going on? Had I really been so oblivious? I knew my face turned red, and I lowered my face, intently studying the Mountain Dew can. But I’m not even good looking, I thought, mortified.
Heathcliff cleared his throat. “Let’s go. The train leaves in twenty minutes. Hopefully we’ll make it.” He grabbed a set of keys off a hook on the wall that said, coincidentally, KEYS.
Eight of us in one car, this ought to be interesting.
Turned out to be four of us in two cars. Heathcliff drove the red Audi, and Salvatore drove the black Mercedes SUV. Gabe sat in the back with me, and Dorian sat in the front next to Heathcliff.
Heathcliff had been right. We made it, but not by much. As soon as we were in, the train pulled away.
The ride into Boston was fun, but uneventful. There was one brief moment when I got the distinct impression someone was watching me. The little hairs on the back of my neck, and on my arms stood up, and I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Trying to be nonchalant I searched for the cause, but didn’t notice anyone acting strange, or at least not strange towards me. Shrugging it off, I listened to the guys, and their interesting conversations on sports, cars, and women.
Chapter 7
There’s something magical about Boston. Puritans founded the city in 1630, so perhaps magic would be considered blasphemous, but that’s the word that comes to mind. After Salem, it was my favorite place. A hum, or a vibe, pulsed through the city, uniting its occupants.
We started at Boston Common. Salvatore brought a Frisbee, and we played for a while. The air was humid, hot. After an hour we were all sticky, and in need of liquid refreshments. Walking, the eight of us went to Starbucks for a cold drink.
After that, we split up. Sebastian, Salvatore, Bart, and Daniel decided to get out of the heat, and go see a movie. Heathcliff informed us Professor Pops had asked him to drop something off. It was all very secretive. Dorian, Gabe, and I said we’d keep him company.
We took Tremont Street to State, and decided to stop at the Faneuil Hall Market Place. It was packed with people, and all sorts of shops. From clothing, to jewelry, to food, to purses. The guys each bought themselves a slice of pizza, which smelled so heavenly I almost rethought my food choices, but settled on a soy fruit smoothie.
We purchased tickets to see a play contending for Broadway, called Chasing Disaster, later that night. It was a musical about the life of Sylvester Stallone. We didn’t think it had a shot in New York, but figured it’d be good for a laugh.
The sun had begun to set, making the glass buildings glow as though they were on fire. Heathcliff led us into an alley that, at one point, hundreds of years ago, had been a cow path. Sunlight dappled the brick buildings high above, but down near us, darkness prevailed, as did the dank smell of rotting trash, and fish.
I breathed through my mouth, with little relief.
“Where are we going, Heath?” Dorian asked, a hand over his nose.
Gabe shoved him. “You’re such a baby.” He glanced at me, worry creasing his forehead. “How are you handling this,” he whispered.
I put a hand over my nose and mouth. “Gotta say Dorian has the right idea. The smell is awful.”
Gabe nodded.
Heathcliff didn’t seem to be bothered by it. He kept looking from a piece of paper in his hand and side-to-side at the old doors almost hidden in the walls. The alley seemed to go on forever, and I wondered how much longer.
Finally Heath stopped, and scratched his head. “I think this is it.” He knocked, and we waited. After several seconds a young Asian boy in navy shorts, and a white t-shirt answered the door. He appraised us before asking in perfect English, “What do you want?”
I felt the hesitation in the brothers. They had their shoulders hunched, except Heathcliff. He said, “Hello,” and gave the boy a smile. “Adam Henry asked me to bring something to Kenmei-sensei.”
The boy stepped back, as though Heath had cursed. “One minute.” The door slammed, and there was high-pitched shouting in Japanese.
After several more minutes, the door opened again, and an elderly Asian man opened the door. He wore clothes similar to Professor Pops. With a slight bow, he said, “Adam Henry has something for me?”
Heath, Dorian, Gabe, and I returned the bow. Professor Pops had been teaching the boys about different cultures since they were little. Sometimes he’d teach me too. And for that reason I knew that it was a sign of respect to return the old man’s bow.
Heath pulled a folded paper from his back pocket.
“Are you Kenmei-sensei?”
A smile ignited the man’s face. “Hai.”
Heath handed him the paper. “This is for you, then.”
With slightly shaking hands, Kenmei took the paper, and unfolded it. He searched whatever was on it.
The four of us shuffled back and forth waiting patiently, but I thought I’d gag if I had to stay in the alley much longer. The smell was more than atrocious.
Minutes later, Kenmei looked at Heath, and then set his gaze on Dorian, Gabe, and his eyes finally rested on me. A prickling fear surged along my spine. Looking into his dark eyes was like looking into the Universe. If anyone asked, I would swear I saw stars and planets rotating within.
“You are not one of Adam Henry’s sons.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
I shook my head, placing my hands behind my back in fists. “No, I’m just a friend of the family.”
“A good friend,” he added.
“Yes,” I agreed, working to keep the overbearing fear crawling along my appendages in check. His stare wearied me, and I turned away, checking out my feet, realizing I stood in a puddle of murky yellow water. Shifting, I moved closer to Gabe. He placed a hand at the small of my back, and I relaxed.
With a slight nod, he said, “Adam is expecting an answer. Won’t the four of you come in? My grandson, Hiro-san will make you some tea.”
Heathcliff answered as though he’d been holding his breath. “We’d love to.”
“Excellent.” Kenmei stepped away from the door, and put out a welcoming hand. “Please, come in.”
Hiro barked, “Take off your shoes.”
After the four of us had stepped in, Hiro closed the door.
“I’ll be right back.” To Hiro, Kenmei said, “Show them into the dining room, and get them some tea.”
Hiro bowed. “Yes, Grandfather.”
Kenmei shuffled down a long hall.
I
rolled up my pant legs because the ends were wet, and removed my shoes, as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It’d been dark outside, but for some reason it seemed darker in here. I could make out that Gabe and the others were removing their shoes as well. When I finished, I stood.
Hiro said, “Follow me, please, and don’t touch anything.” He shook his pointer finger at us slowly, but seemed to be looking directly at me.
Did I have “klutzy” stamped across my forehead? Probably, I answered myself with a sigh.
I followed the boy. Gabe and the others followed me. We seemed to be taking the same route Kenmei had gone. It looked like the only way to get anywhere. The floor was covered in plush oriental carpet, the design intricate. The walls were covered in cream paint. Lights ran along the ceiling, but elaborately painted lamps covered them, which is why the room emitted only a slight reddish glow. Pictures of ancient-looking people, water dragons, and creatures that looked like they’d been pulled from nightmares hung randomly. The air smelled like incense, which was much nicer than the garbage stench outside.
As we padded along I got the distinct impression I was being watched. Paranoid much, I berated myself. It was just that I was in a strange place. It was unnerving.
Abruptly the hallway ended, and we had to either turn to the left or the right. Hiro led us to the right. Not too far after that, he stopped in front of double paper-looking doors. Sliding it opened, he ushered us in.
The room looked like a dining room. A large onyx table sat majestically in the center. Ten black leather chairs surrounded it. In the middle of the table a rock and bamboo water fountain gurgled contentedly. Directly above it hung an enormous chandelier. I couldn’t see the ceiling though. It just seemed to go up and up and up, without end. That has to be a trick of the light, I thought.
Hiro patted a chair at the head of the table, and said, “You, girl. Sit here. The rest of you can find a spot. I’ll be right back.” Without another word, he left.
Blood and Snow Volumes 1-4: Blood and Snow, Revenant in Training, The Vampire Christopher, Blood Soaked Promises Page 3