Dealing with Demons

by Melissa Haag

  Maybe Morik was right. Maybe I needed to relax a little and give nature a chance to work itself out.

  “Still using the motorcycle?” He nodded. “Then I’m going to layer up so my legs don’t freeze. Will you wait for me in the kitchen?”

  I found a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved, V-neck shirt and, after I raided my mom’s closet, an oversized sweater. Over the leggings, I added jeans. Nothing really matched, but it would keep me warm for a little while. I thought of adding another layer. However, other than my pajamas, nothing would fit over the jeans.

  “You need to go shopping,” Aunt Danielle commented when I stepped out into the living room.

  I snorted and shook my head.

  “It’s not that bad. I just don’t want to freeze again on the way over to Beatriz’s. Can you let Mom know where I went? I’ll be back before nine.” Aunt Danielle promised she would give the message, and I put on my jacket.

  Outside, when the wind bit into my skin, I appreciated that the helmet would, at least, keep my face warm. Even with the extra layers of clothing and the scarf tucked around my neck, I estimated I’d lose feeling in my feet and legs by the time we reached Beatriz’s house.

  “Remind me why this is the transportation of choice,” I said as I slipped the helmet on.

  “It’s small enough that I can appear suddenly on the side of the road or in an alley with no one noticing. Cars are harder.”

  The visor on the helmet was still up when I paused to stare at him in surprise. I’d thought he’d picked it because it was faster or maybe just because he liked motorcycles.

  “I didn’t realize you get cold so easily. I’ll look for some better clothes for you,” he promised with a concerned glance at my jacket. His yellow glasses hid any color differences in his irises, but I wondered what colors I would see if he weren’t wearing them.

  “No, that’s okay. We just won’t plan any long rides until it warms up.”

  He didn’t say anything. Instead, he carefully closed the visor and helped me onto the bike.

  I took turns with one arm around his waist and the other on my legs to prevent them from getting cold. And it worked, for the most part. My legs were fine, but my hands froze quickly despite my knit mittens. I tried to warm them in his jacket pocket, but they remained frozen. Telling myself we were only a few minutes from Beatriz’s house, I curled them into fists.

  My pinky on both hands started to sting. I wiggled my hand out of the mitten, careful to keep my hand in his pocket. Without the mitten, some of his heat seeped through the lining but not enough to warm it. The sting intensified, and Brad’s comment about frostbite rang in my ears.

  Worried, I took a moment to deliberate another option to warm my hands. Morik hadn’t seemed to mind when I touched him three nights ago. But, I hadn’t been freezing cold then. Hoping he wouldn’t be upset, or worse, drive us off the road, I quickly withdrew my hand from his pocket and slipped it under the jacket. The shirts he wore were both untucked and easy to get around.

  I laid my hand on his bare skin. His stomach muscles twitched, but he didn’t give any other indication that he’d noticed. And I was grateful because his heat immediately started to warm my fingers. I quickly shed my other mitten so that hand could join the first. I leaned closer to keep his jacket down and the cold air out. My hands slowly warmed, and pressed against him, my legs stayed warm, too.

  I turned my hands over and couldn’t help but notice again how smooth his skin felt.

  He twitched again, and I supposed it didn’t feel too good to keep moving my cold hands around like that. I didn’t stop, though. He could scowl at me all he wanted when we got to Beatriz’s.

  Basking in his heat, I didn’t immediately notice that the trees that had whipped past at a dizzying speed had slowed. No, we had slowed. The last flip to warm my hands had probably shocked him. At least, he hadn’t run us into the trees.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He nodded and sped up again.

  With regret, I withdrew my hands and stuck them back in his jacket pockets. I stayed reasonably warm the last few minutes of the ride but was happy when I saw Beatriz’s house ahead. Morik parked in the drive and kept the bike steady for me to dismount.

  Unwilling to remove my mittens again, I waited for Morik to help me with the helmet. His eyes behind the yellow sunglasses appeared much darker than usual, tempting me to reach up and move the sunglasses out of the way. Not giving in, I held still for him. As soon as the helmet was off, I gave him a sheepish smile.

  “I hope I didn’t cross a line. My hands were cold.”

  He quirked a lopsided grin. “I know. I felt it. And no, you didn’t cross any lines.” He stepped close and gently smoothed my hair. “For you, I’ll never draw any.”

  Something inside me squirmed a little. Not trusting myself to say the right thing, I only nodded.

  Behind me, the front door opened, and Beatriz called out a greeting. I broke eye contact first to turn and wave to her.

  “Twenty minutes on the dot,” she said when we stepped inside. “You’re good.”

  Her gaze wandered all over Morik. I hoped she wouldn’t notice his eyes, horns, or ears. Or his nails. Hopefully, she’d think it was nail polish like Mona had. This wasn’t a good idea. Hesitantly, I officially introduced the two.

  I should have known that the girl who saw so much on my first day wouldn’t miss a thing though.

  “So, what’s up with your eyes?” She watched him with open curiosity while I fought not to cringe and fumbled for something to say.

  “It’s an eye condition,” Morik said smoothly. “Several actually. The whites are discolored and the irises abnormal. I use the yellow driving glasses so people can still see my eyes but not all the detail. Less mass hysteria.” He tucked his hands in his pockets in a relaxed pose and waited.

  “Don’t blame you. People freak out when you’re different. That’s why I like different colors in my hair. Distract them with the obvious so they don’t notice the stuff I don’t want them to.” Beatriz held up her hand and splayed her fingers. Her pointer finger was a little shorter than it should be.

  “I never noticed before, Beatriz.”

  “That’s just one of many reasons why I call you friend.” She grinned at me. “Let’s go downstairs. They’re already warming up. Are you any good at air hockey, Morik?”

  “I’ve never played, but I’m a fast learner,” he said, following us down the steps.

  Beatriz gave him the same guided tour of the basement she’d given me then introduced him to Brad, Tommy, and Jay. Jay’s face wasn’t familiar so I guessed he must have missed last night’s party. That or he showed up after I left.

  Brad moved behind the bar and pulled cans of soda from the refrigerator.

  “Tommy and I will play the first set. Best of three. Morik and Jay, you’ll be next. Then, the winners of the two sets play. Anyone want anything to drink before we start?”

  Beatriz and I stayed by the bar, drinking the soda and munching on the bar mix set out in a bowl. Morik leaned against the pool table and watched the contenders closely until the first one scored. After that, he joined us.

  Beatriz started up a conversation with him, completely at ease with his watchful gaze. She asked when he graduated in a very subtle attempt to determine his age.

  He dodged the question, saying he hadn’t made the best decisions about school and asked what she was interested in going to college for. She liked the idea of Interior design, which fit when I thought about her room and her bathroom.

  “You look Native American, Morik. Where are you from?”

  “I am native. This is my homeland. In fact, I grew up not too far from here.”

  Something about the way he said it had me thinking that was probably a very watered-down version of the truth.

  Jay joined us and started asking Morik about his motorcycle. I took the opportunity to escape to the bathroom and peel off the extra layer of clothing I’d put on. Crazy how
a girl who never seemed to get enough heat suddenly had a sweaty upper lip. Getting rid of the jeans and sweater left me in the V-neck shirt and the leggings. The clothes were comfortable, but I wasn’t sure I was comfortable in them. Like the leggings, the v-neck hugged my curves.

  I quickly switched the leggings for the jeans. More confident, I left my extra clothes in the basement living room area then rejoined the others. Morik eyed my change in clothes before turning back to Jay, who still dominated the conversation.

  Beatriz, bored now that she no longer quizzed Morik, hopped down from her stool and dragged me toward the pool table.

  “I suck at playing pool, but it’s better than listening to mechanics.”

  I smiled, saying nothing because Morik needed this opportunity for regular conversation. He’d hinted that every interaction had been because of a deal. Even his interactions with me were due to one deal or another. Happy to give him his moment, I focused on the pool table.

  “I’ve never played before. So, I doubt it will be much fun for you.”

  “It’s easy,” she assured me with a quick grin.

  She racked the balls and grabbed us each cue sticks. At my blank look, she proceeded to show me how to play. I watched closely as she broke the triangle formation of the balls she’d racked. They scattered nicely and left me plenty of options. One of the striped balls came to a stop very near a pocket. I moved around the table and tried to mimic her bent-over stance and felt a little self-conscious when she giggled. She laughed when I tried doing the bridge she’d shown me.

  “Play nice.” I faked a scowl and pointed the cue at her.

  Beatriz kept a smile on her face, and she attempted to show me, again, how to stand and use my hand to create a bridge. As I listened, I noticed that the conversation and good-natured taunting around us had come to a stop.

  Beatriz noticed the same thing because she turned and glared at her brother.

  “What? I’m showing her something wrong, aren’t I?” She said the last as an angry statement, not a question.

  Brad laughingly held up his hands. “Not going to interfere. Just watching.”

  “Back to your own game.” She stood with her arms crossed and waited for them to comply. When they did, she leaned close to me and quietly demonstrated what to do.

  “I’m probably showing you wrong. Just try to hit the white ball without tearing the cloth, and it’ll be a good try.”

  She moved away, and I tried again. This time, I looked up for confirmation that I was doing it right. She smiled widely, clearly amused by my efforts, but nodded anyway.

  I jabbed the cue forward in a parody of what she’d shown me. The tip missed the cue ball completely. Beatriz encouraged me to keep trying until I finally made contact. The ball I finally hit didn’t go far, which was good since I’d moved it further from the pocket.

  Beatriz expertly studied the table then moved into position and sunk her targeted ball into a side pocket. After counting the number of balls on the table and estimating how long each turn took me, I decided our pool game would take forever.

  At the air hockey table, Tommy swore and Brad laughed, interrupting my concentration.

  “Morik. Jay. Your turn,” Brad said. Tommy moved behind the bar to get himself a soda while Brad took a seat to watch both games.

  I paused in my turn to watch Morik and Jay begin. Jay watched Morik closely. Morik watched the puck. He unerringly caught it and sent it sailing back to Jay’s goal without hesitating. Jay deflected, but to me, it looked like luck more than skill. Morik caught the rebounding puck and immediately shot it back to Jay’s goal.

  Suddenly, playing pool with Beatriz didn’t seem so bad or as competitive. I went back to studying the pool table, spotted another ball close to a pocket, and bent down to take aim.

  “Nope, not that one,” Beatriz said, standing near the table and leaning on her cue to watch me. “The first kind of ball you sink is the one you aim for the rest of the game. I have solids. You have stripes.”

  I glanced at the balls again, focusing on the striped ones. Nothing else on the table looked remotely possible.

  “Here, let me help,” Brad offered.

  He moved over to the table, directly across from me, ignoring his sister’s cry of “no fair” to point out how to aim at the cue ball to make it veer in different directions. I paid close attention to his instruction.

  He moved back from the table as I prepared to shoot. Since the previous ball I’d hit had barely moved, I put some extra force behind my thrust this time.

  The cue ball flew but didn’t go in the direction I wanted.

  “Please, Bea,” Brad begged his sister, “just let me help her for a few minutes so it’s more fair.”

  “You make me sound like a shark. Fine. Help her.” She sat down next to Tommy, sipped her soda, and watched.

  Brad walked up to me, turned me slightly away from the table, and stood right behind me. From there, he showed me how to hold the cue, make the bridge, line up the cue stick with the cue ball, and use a smooth stroke to better control the outcome. It amazed me when I pocketed a ball with his help.

  Behind us, Jay let out a yelp. “Dammit! That hit my knuckle!”

  I turned in time to see him rub his hand for a moment before he grabbed the mallet again. Morik wasn’t paying attention to Jay. He watched me. Or rather Brad, who stood inches from me, having just assisted me with my last shot. Morik’s eyes swirled with vivid orange color, but no one seemed to notice over Jay’s loud complaints.

  Okay. No more help from Brad.

  “I think I got it now, Brad. Thanks for the help.”

  He winked at me, assured me it wasn’t a problem, and turned to sit back down.

  Jay cried out again. “I think I’m bleeding. Man, you hit hard.”

  Tommy started to laugh. “How many times do we need to tell you to keep your fingers out of the way? You want Brad to show you how to hold the mallet?”

  Jay told Tommy to piss off, which earned him a dark look from Brad, then gripped the mallet again.

  This time, I watched Morik’s play instead of Beatriz. He bent aggressively over the table, and I grew a little worried for Jay. When I noticed the red glint in Morik’s eyes, I knew I needed to do something to prevent Jay from losing a finger.

  “Is anyone else hungry?” I asked in an overly loud voice.

  Jay straightened, obviously willing to take a break. Tommy perked up and nodded.

  Brad looked at Beatriz.

  “What do you think, pipsqueak? Delivery or create our own masterpiece?”

  “Delivery,” she said emphatically. Then she squealed, “Chinese!” She laughed when the other three groaned. “Fine. Pizza. What do you guys like on your pizza?” She looked at me then Morik.

  I hoped she wouldn’t notice his eyes. I had no idea how Jay hadn’t noticed. Maybe he’d been too busy watching the puck.

  I answered for both of us.

  “Anything is fine. We’re not picky.”

  Beatriz led the charge upstairs to make sure Brad ordered what she wanted. Tommy gave Jay a hard time about his injured fingers as they trailed behind.

  I stayed downstairs with Morik, who still gripped the mallet.

  Once everyone else was gone, I set my cue on the pool table and went over to him. Sliding down his glasses, I saw the same swirling red with a vivid orange center.

  “I think I know what red and orange mean,” I said softly to him, feeling the weight of his angry gaze. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. I laid my hand over his and gently took the mallet out from underneath it. Fine fractures lined the high top.

  “Do you want to go home?” He shook his head. “Brad won’t help me anymore,” I promised him quietly. I heard feet on the stairs, patted his hand, and pushed his glasses back into place. I stepped back before Beatriz rounded the corner.

  “Three extra larges on the way,” Beatriz said, holding a bag of cheese-coated chips. “This will have to hold you over for
now.”

  We stayed through the rest of the games, and Morik eventually beat Brad. Since Brad left me alone for the rest of the evening, Morik made an effort to be nice. When Brad laughed and called Morik “Yoda” before asking if he’d come back Friday night for his next party, Morik studied him for a heartbeat. Then, he shrugged and agreed that he’d let Brad know later.

  Beatriz tried to talk me into staying for a movie. I knew she wanted an opportunity to get closer to Morik, but a movie would put me past the time I had promised to be home. Reluctantly, she let me change back into my layered outfit. However, we were delayed when I couldn’t find my mittens. Everyone helped me look, but I noticed that Morik didn’t seem very motivated.

  After a few minutes, Beatriz gave up the search.

  “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine? I’ll keep looking for yours and bring them to school when I find them.”

  Morik answered before I could.

  “I have something she can use on the bike. We’ll be fine.”

  I looked at him, puzzled. All that he had was a helmet. Since the sun had set, the temperature had dropped. I worried that I’d be cold again, but his steady liquid silver gaze had me agreeing. He was up to something, but I didn’t know what.

  We stepped outside, and I took a moment to enjoy the stars while keeping my hands in my thin coat pockets. He patiently stood beside me, waiting. Missing the stars was the reason for our deal, after all. I didn’t pause too long, though.

  He helped me with the helmet so I could keep my hands in my pockets. He didn’t offer me anything else. When I settled behind him, I had no choice but to tuck my hands in his pockets where I knew they’d be warmer.

  The motorcycle snarled to life, and we left Beatriz’s house behind. I’d enjoyed our time there and hoped that Morik would consider going back on Friday.

  Within minutes, the cold penetrated my hands and numbed my fingers. Morik hadn’t seemed to mind when I warmed them on the way to Beatriz’s, so I didn’t hesitate to use the same method. This time, I went for his sides just below the pockets.