The Demigod's Legacy

by Holley Trent

  He felt smug about that and couldn’t help it. At much as he pretended to be human, he had the same jealousy issues as any other apex predator. “You were asleep. In my opinion, sleeping with your head on my lap hardly counts as affection. At best, it’s unconscious tolerance, and she didn’t even care.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “Dee, I was looking right at her.”

  “You just weren’t paying attention. You don’t know how to read her expressions yet.”

  “I think I do well enough. Half the faces she makes are Ma’s, and I’ve had a long damn time to familiarize myself with those.”

  He poured the darkest roast coffee into a novelty mug that read “Ruler of Everything” and guided December toward the sun porch. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

  “What about your mother’s coffee?”

  “She was just trying to get us out of the room.”

  “Why?”

  He sipped, and nudged her over the threshold. “Not sure you want to know.”

  “Then I definitely do.”

  chapter ELEVEN

  December put her booted feet up on the wicker coffee table in front of the sunroom love seat and stared down at a stray tealeaf swirling at the top of her mug. She didn’t feel so great knowing that her child’s grandmother was likely in the salon regaling her with tales of bloodthirsty gods and goddesses, warrior sacrifices, retributive schemes, and untrue lovers, but Tito was right about one thing—the truth had to come to light. All she could do was hope Cruz didn’t take everything Mrs. Perez said literally, even if everything had really happened.

  “She called you Ya … Ya Oat?” she said, risking a glance rightward. After so many years wondering where he was, she wasn’t adjusting well to suddenly having him so close so often.

  “Ya-oh-tuhl,” he enunciated with a very soft blurring of the consonants. “Y-a-o-t-l.”

  “What does that mean? Is that your real name?”

  “Means warrior in Nahuatl. The folks you know as the Aztecs spoke it.”

  “Is that what your father was?”

  “Yeah. Ma wasn’t associated with any particular group that you would know of. The Chichimec tended to absorb deities into their culture as they moved into Central Mexico and assimilated the groups they conquered. By the time the Aztecs settled around Tenochtitlan, their mythology was already pretty convoluted.”

  “Did they know her?”

  “In my neighborhood?” He shook his head. “Nah, but they knew of some of her siblings, and people elsewhere knew her. The names people gave her were different depending how far south on the continent she went, or how far east, west, or north. Mostly after the Spanish made their way inland and the monks started converting everyone, people called her La Bella Dama.”

  “That’s pretty.”

  “Yeah. Pretty name for a scary woman. And I guess you could say Yaotl is my birth name, the one my parents gave to me. All the others were ones I picked for myself.”

  “So, Perez doesn’t really mean anything to you?”

  “No. That was just a name Ma and me decided to use the last time we moved. That’s the name attached to my current birth certificate and social security card. Really, I’m just Yaotl.”

  “Doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well as Tito.”

  She said the name a few times, just to feel it in her mouth. Then she tried Yaotl, and wondered if she’d spoken too quickly. She had a hard time wrapping her rigid English tongue around the sounds, but she thought she’d gotten close enough without blurring together everything in the middle into a muddy D sound.

  Tito chuckled. “Keep practicing. You’ll catch on eventually.”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me when I get it right. I’m probably too old to develop an ear for the sounds, though.”

  “Nah. I pick up languages all the time. Never ask me to write you anything in any language, though. All the grammar gets confusing after a while. Easier to read it than to talk it, and easier to talk it than to write it.”

  “How many languages do you know?”

  “I don’t know. Hard to count, if you have to pick apart all the different dialects and figure out where they blur into one thing.”

  “So, a lot.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. Kind of an occupational hazard of being a demigod. You move around, you pick up the languages.”

  “At least three, then, if you’re counting major language groups.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “English, all the various flavors of Nahuatl and the groups nearby, plus Spanish, German, and, hell—New Mexico has about eight native languages, and let’s see what—”

  “German?”

  He shrugged. “White guys got around.”

  She gave him the long blink treatment, just in case he’d forgotten who was in front of him. Her mother’s family came from the Azores a generation ago. Her father was a member of the Sons of the American Revolution. Two different shades of white.

  “Why do you think so many Mexican women are named things like Olga?” he asked.

  “I hadn’t given that much thought, honestly. I’ve never been especially studious. I hate having to admit such a thing, but it’s true. I know now from working in the bar that I just have awful short-term memory and never learned to compensate for that in school. Everyone thought I was slow, but I just couldn’t immediately memorize all those tedious facts. Learning names is still a problem for me.”

  “You must have had a great time meeting all those Foyes, then.”

  “Oh, I can tell you all their names now. They’re solidly engraved in my brain because I had a chance to sleep and file all that data where it belongs. Listen.” She counted off on her fingers. “There’s Glenda, who was married to Floyd. The kids are Mason, Hank, Sean, and Belle. Wives are Ellery, Miles, and Hannah. Belle’s engaged to Steven. Mason’s son from his ex is Nick. Ellery has a cat named Pumpkin Pie. Lily is Glenda’s niece, and she lives on the ranch, too.” She leaned forward and picked up her mug. “I don’t think I missed anyone, did I?”

  Tito whistled low. “Nah. You even got the cat, which is surprising seeing as how more people call her ‘Fucker’ than by her actual name. Little beast is mean.”

  “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

  He pointed to himself.

  “Oh.” She still hadn’t seen Tito in his cougar form, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. She was still trying to get used to him being a fraction of the size he was before, and she needed fewer things hurting her brain. Then she remembered one more new name she’d learned. “When do you think Tarik will check in? Does he usually take long when he goes scouting?”

  “Tarik?” Tito raised his eyebrows and then let them fall. “Uh, no. He doesn’t usually take long. I imagine he’ll catch up to you soon.”

  “Do you have a number for him?”

  “I’ll get it to you later if he doesn’t catch up to you.”

  “Good. I’m wondering if he found anything out.”

  He grunted noncommittally.

  They sipped their drinks in silence, and she stared outside at the fenced backyard. The grass was almost green, quite a feat given the low rainfall and scorching sun. Sometimes, the Southwest was indistinguishable from the bottom of a cast iron frying pan—they both fostered dry heat and evenly cooked things.

  “I always wanted a yard for Cruz,” she said. “The place we live now doesn’t have one, but there is a big park across the street … not that she gets to go there much. I swear, we always have the best intentions, but whenever me or my sister or brother-in-law are home and can take the kids outside, something else more urgent needs to be done. The kids don’t complain too much, but I still feel bad. Things were so much different for my sister and me when we were growing up. We lived in really safe suburb and neighbors tended to keep an eye on each other’s kids.”

  “You can’t feel guilty about what you don’t have, and besides, I doubt the kids know any better.”

  “They know bett
er.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because some of the kids at school have big mouths.”

  “That’s not cool.”

  She shrugged. “Kids learn to be jerks from their jerky parents. Used to piss my brother-in-law off a lot, but he’s able to tune out most of the infuriating chatter now. Better for his blood pressure.”

  “I’m sorry you go through all that. I wish I could have been there to help you.” He gave her a nudge with his elbow. “I’m here now, though.”

  Smiling, she nudged him back. “And what’s that mean?”

  “Means you can ask me for anything. I may not have it right away, but I’ll try to get it. Or Ma will.”

  December didn’t doubt that. She believed he’d help, but also that he’d want to stay in very close proximity to her while he did it.

  She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. She wasn’t convinced that she was so drawn to him because he was familiar and made her feel safe, and not because he was truly worth pursuing.

  “Well, crap,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tell me more stuff about you.”

  “Anything in particular, or are you just trawling for the scandalous bits?”

  “I don’t want to hear about your scandals. They’ll just make me jealous and angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t believe you. Fifty percent of them probably had to do with women.”

  He snorted. “Come on. I told you I don’t get around like that. I knew where to find company when I wanted some, but you don’t want to hear about that.”

  She needed another cup of tea, and perhaps some fat and carbohydrates to get her motor running, but she had enough energy to lean in and ask, “What are you going to do about your cousin?”

  “Shit, Dee.” He ground his palm against his eyes, and on a delay, she felt the tickle of breath on her cleavage. Her button-up shirt gaped, and seated in the hot sun’s reach, she hadn’t noticed the gap. She’d leaned in and put half her damned torso on display.

  Crap.

  She pulled the plackets together as shame crept up her neck to her cheeks.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to imply that you should cover up or nothing, just that a guy can’t help but have certain ideas.”

  “I don’t want to know about your ideas. You were just telling about all the company you used to keep, and I’m not sure I like being part of the throng.”

  “You’re definitely not part of the throng.”

  “You’d say anything.”

  “Nah. I wouldn’t waste my breath. What would I get out of all those useless words? I keep my ass out of trouble by keeping my mouth shut more often than not.”

  “You sure had a lot to say the night we met.”

  She realized, though, in hindsight, that he hadn’t said anything of import back then—only what she’d needed to hear at the time. He’d told her that she was nice, and that she was pretty, and that he didn’t like having to get up and leave her the next morning, but he had.

  He’d returned a few times soon after, and then he’d vanished.

  He could vanish again.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked a bit, back and forth, as she let her vision blur and the table in front of them became just a white lump.

  “Dee.”

  “What?”

  “You’re frowning. I don’t like seeing you frown.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice lately.”

  “My fault?”

  She shrugged.

  “Hey, don’t do that. You mad at me? Tell me you’re mad at me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  “I’m not mad at you.” Grimacing, she closed her eyes. She kept drilling into Cruz that she should never lie, and yet December was becoming a master at casual lying.

  “Dee.” He’d always been so good at putting entire questions into that one little word.

  “Okay,” she said. “Maybe I am. Staying angry at the people I’m supposed to be angry at is hard for me. That’s why my brother-in-law thinks I’m a nut.”

  “You just don’t have it in you. I won’t blame you for wanting to try, though.”

  “To get angry enough to yell at you? Is that going to make you feel better?”

  “Is yelling at me gonna make up for the last six years? Is that the question you’re skirting around?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “No, Dee, nothin’s gonna make me feel good about that. Nothin’s gonna take away that guilt, or that misplaced anger I have toward Ma right now about keeping a secret like that. Nothing’s gonna make me panic less every time Cruz walks into a room that I’m in. I should know what to do, right? This ain’t my first rodeo. I should know what to say.” He turned his hands over. “I’ve got nothin’. She looks at me, and I thank the gods I don’t see my son in her face. I see you and I see Ma, and that’s bad enough. I just sit and wait for somethin’ to happen—for her to act first—and that’s so stupid. Who’s the grown-up?”

  “Good question.” December dropped her arms from her chest and inched a hand across the chair to his knee. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and he laid his hand over hers. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing. One moment, she’ll be just like any other five-year-old—loud and boisterous and naive, and then next she’ll look at me in some way that looks too old, or like she knows too much, and I just want to hug her so she can’t see my face and how terrified I am all the time.”

  “What are you so afraid of, Dee? Besides the new stuff, I mean.”

  “The same things as any mother. That I’ll mess up and that she’ll never forgive me.”

  “Do you forgive your mother?”

  “Huh?”

  The question knocked the wind out of her sails. She hadn’t expected it, which, all things considered, was something of a miracle. Every time she thought of mothers or when someone mentioned them in the past ten years, she thought of hers. Her life had become so chaotic that she’d push the biggest anxiety trigger she’d ever had aside.

  That wasn’t a good thing.

  “You felt like you had to leave home, and she didn’t defend you. All these years later, can you forgive her?”

  She pulled her hand away to cover her eyes. They’d started to water. “I don’t really have a choice. My heart won’t let me stay angry. Instead, I’m just sad.”

  “Tell me about her,” he said softly. “What was she like?”

  She scoffed quietly and worked her tongue against the dry corner of her lip.

  How does one describe a mother?

  She could do what Tito had with her Facebook albums and go back to the beginning.

  “For the longest time,” she started, haltingly, “she was so sweet. My earliest memories were of us playing together. She’d get on the floor in her work clothes. She’d come straight in from work and wouldn’t even take a minute to get herself situated. From the time she got home, she was ours. And that’s what I try to be for Cruz, but—”

  She couldn’t get enough air to push the words out. She was holding her breath, apparently, so her lungs couldn’t give power to the sob building up in her chest.

  “Hey, no—you’re okay.” He pulled her across the cushion and damn near onto his lap. “You hear me? You’re doing everything you’re supposed to. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s a hell of a lot better than most folks.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint her. That’s why I came here. I wanted her to have more.”

  “And she deserves more. She deserves everything. We just need to figure out how to give it to her, right?”

  “We?”

  “I’m trying, Dee. Maybe I’m clumsy at this because I’m so out of practice, but I want to try to be a good dad to her. You’ve both got to be patient with me. I’m conflicted. You know why I didn’t want you near, but now I don’t want you to go, and I know I’m gonna mess a lot of stuff up. All the damn baggage … ”

  “I understand.”

  He chafed her ar
m. Landed a kiss on the top of her head.

  She may have wanted him desperately, but they couldn’t have really been meant to be—at least not for long. He’d be gorgeous and vital for countless years ahead. He’d watch her grow old and pity her feebleness, probably.

  That sounded awful.

  Maybe not getting attached is for the best.

  She sniffled hard and knew even without benefit of a mirror that her face was probably red and splotchy, more from her effort at holding back tears than from the act of releasing them. “You must think I’m a mess.”

  “Nah.” He tipped her head against his shoulder and rubbed her arm some more. “Not gonna lie, you’re responding pretty well, all things considered. I mean, not every lady would cope so well with learning her baby’s daddy isn’t quite human.”

  “I think if I’d had a little less stress in my life, I would have responded worse. That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Makes plenty of sense, in my opinion. If you’re already at your max, a little more added to the heap ain’t gonna change shit, right?”

  Sure won’t.

  She couldn’t think of a single point in the past few months when she hadn’t been near the brink. She wanted so badly to back away from that place, just for a little while.

  She closed her eyes and forced her body to pull in a deep breath, which she let out through parted lips. Another breath, and her body relaxed even more against him.

  He felt too good. He felt like that first morning when she hadn’t wanted him to leave—like she’d break if he did. Maybe she had, or at least her head had, because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. He’d filled every spare thought.

  What is wrong with me?

  She didn’t want to believe she was as needy for affection as Alicia teasingly accused. She could do just fine on her own, and had.

  Am I weak for not wanting to?

  Or for wanting him, after everything.

  She danced a fingertip along the highway of veins on the back of his hand. His skin was the same light reddish brown of the desert, and so warm—the perfect temperature to set bare feet upon if it had been the ground. Although the sun had did its best to heat both, they didn’t burn, just comforted her.