She sighed, still shooting daggers at my shirt. “Fine, although I had to spend some of it cheering up Osmond. Apparently it hurts his feelings when girls jump out of his truck while it’s still moving. Dariana, you aren’t going to get a lot of second dates if you do that kind of thing. Of course the only kind of guy you’ll attract in that shirt would probably get a kick out of psychotic.” Luckily, her voice while she talked about Osmond had dropped so no one else in the hall could hear her.
“What a relief to know that I’ll still attract psychos. It’s almost as good as if I didn’t attract anyone, but I guess I can’t have everything. Snowy, I like the shirt. I have a purple one I’m going to wear tomorrow. You’re going to have to let it go.”
“The pigtails?” she asked, pleadingly with her big eyes all fluttering and innocent looking.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help giggling. “Since you’re so subtle about it, fine. Tomorrow I’ll wear braids.”
She curled her lip and I got ready to hear something else about the near illegal qualities of braids, but then I saw Osmond, talking to a guy in the hall, his white teeth perfect as he laughed.
I froze and didn’t hear the next thing Snowy said, instead seeing him all dark and dangerous in the woods, hauling tough chick me, and the kissing. His mouth was soft looking, his arms as they shifted his books like he barely noticed their weight, impressively muscular. It seemed impossible that I’d never before noticed how cute he was, but nice too. I saw a girl smile at him, say hi, and he responded with an easy smile, the same way he treated everyone in our school equally. Why didn’t he have a girlfriend when he was so cute and nice? Maybe he was saving himself for Snowy, I thought as I turned to look at her immaculate makeup and the thin lips as she considered the possibility that she’d be stuck hanging out with someone who dressed like me. Osmond came closer down the hall and I saw Snowy, the way she nodded at him, and he said something low that I could barely catch in spite of being right beside her. Something about ‘later’.
I watched him walk away, studying his walk, the way he moved so smoothly, like an athlete and his tight…
“What are you looking at?” Snowy snapped, following my gaze suspiciously. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
“You said ‘later’, to Osmond,” I said, not denying that I hadn’t been listening. “What was that about?”
She shrugged. “Nothing, just some stuff we have to do after school.”
I looked at her, the way her well mascaraed eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “Can I come?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you want to be involved in after school activities?”
“Since now. You’re always trying to get me more involved, so, why not? What’s it about?” It didn’t matter what it was about; I wanted to explore this new and uncomfortably interesting thing with Osmond.
She shifted her books before giving my shirt one last good glare. “Fine, after school, in the parking lot. Don’t be late.” She turned with an elaborate hair toss, and with that I was alone, well, alone with other students who would be late for class if they didn’t rush.
The rest of the day no one acted like it was crazy that I wore a too tight tee, in fact, in my art class one of the girls, who had shown up after Christmas break with her lip pierced, nodded approvingly at my ensemble. That made me worry more about it than anything Snowy had said. It hadn’t occurred to me that it would be an edgy cool thing to do. Smoke hadn’t said anything to me about it in Sewing, just started talking about some new interactive game he was into, a game he said I should come over to play sometime. He must have forgotten who he was talking to, because there was no way a video game he liked would survive an encounter with me.
After school I hurried to clean up from my painting to make it to the parking lot in time to catch Snowy and Osmond.
“So,” I said breathlessly, climbing into the passenger side of her SUV. “What’s the activity? Do I need to get my markers and make a posterboard for the Valentine’s dance or something?” Although I couldn’t imagine why Osmond would bother with that, since he usually took care of moving stuff, him and whatever guys he got together.
“No,” she said as she pulled out, following Osmond’s truck, turning right at the corner towards the bridge that led out of Sanders. “It’s not a school activity, it’s an after-school activity. You probably shouldn’t be here, but,” she sighed heavily before giving me a troubled glance. “It’s probably time you weren’t completely oblivious to everything.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I wasn’t completely oblivious, but then realized that would probably not help in this case, since I totally was. Instead I watched the river pass beneath us as we crossed the bridge, the ice encasing the water except for the center where the water rushed dark and dangerous. We didn’t get onto the highway, instead Snowy turned right on another small road that meandered through the woods, underbrush close on either side so that it would be impossible to turn around. I bit back the questions aware of how tightly Snowy gripped the steering wheel as she carefully traveled the ice-crusted dirt road.
Finally, she seemed to breathe when we came out in a clearing where Osmond’s truck was parked beside Satan’s battered, monstrously ugly car. I looked at Snowy with fresh curiosity, wondering how long Snowy had been doing stuff with my uncle without me. He’d been impressed with her for shooting Jason at the Art gallery—maybe that had started it.
“So…” I began.
“Don’t talk; let me do the talking. Satan isn’t going to like this; neither is Osmond.” She shook her head before she gave me her nice, everything’s perfect smile, and got out. The leather of her pink jacket creaked as she walked, the rest of her outfit black down to her sturdy looking boots. It didn’t seem like it was the same thing she’d worn the rest of the day, but I couldn’t be sure. I should pay more attention to that kind of thing, apparently.
I got out of the SUV, slowly walking towards the others, smelling Satan’s cigar before I saw him, scowling as he came out from the depths of his trunk holding lots of gear. He looked past Snowy, and I saw his scowl grow darker and felt the urge to shrink back. Instead, I waved at my very scary uncle.
“What’s she doing here?” Osmond asked, giving me a look as cold as any I’d ever seen from him. I flinched from that look, from the guy who was not at all friendly looking, that almost looked like the guy in the woods with alternate-reality me.
“Who?” Snowy asked all bright and fluttery. “Oh, Dariana. I thought she could use some experience with the dark stuff in the world.”
“No,” Osmond said, glaring at Snowy.
She stopped fluttering, instead put her hands on hips and glared back at him. “This wasn’t my idea, actually. She was determined to come after she heard you tell me about it, in the hall. It’s your fault that she’s here.”
“Fine,” he said, taking a long, black bag off his shoulder, throwing it at Satan who caught it without saying anything. “I’ll take her back then. You’re right, she is my responsibility.”
Snowy rolled her eyes, but she seemed to be finished defending me.
“Wait, you are not responsible for me. At all,” I said, feeling really aware of how big and cute he was as he came towards me with that scary cold expression on his face. “I guess you guys are going to do something dangerous, right? If you haven’t noticed, I keep getting sucked into dangerous situations. I was thinking it might be nice to learn how to cope, or something. I’d do whatever you told me to do to stay out of the way, I promise.”
He shook his head and was about to say something about how stupid that idea was when Satan’s gravelly voice cut in.
“Good. I like the idea of your having a gentle introduction to the nasty things in life.”
“Satan, look at her. She’s not…” Osmond began, but Satan cut him off with a broad wave of his hand.
“You can stay, as long as you do exactly what you’re told. Otherwise you might be a danger to these two intrepid
fighters your brother put so much effort into creating.” He nodded once, like that was final, ignoring Osmond’s scowling curled lips while he continued pulling things out of the trunk, arranging various strange things, some in cases, some not that Snowy seemed familiar with. It was crazy to watch as she hefted what looked like a rocket launcher to her shoulder, as naturally as if she did this sort of thing every day. They looked in their element, both Osmond and Snowy. Osmond kept looking at me and shaking his head, like me in my pony shirt should never be there, involved in dangerous stuff. I looked at the scar on his head and frowned. He shouldn’t be there with Satan who may very well get both of them killed.
“All right then,” Satan said, slamming the trunk of the car closed with a crash that reverberated through the surrounding woods. I glanced around, wondering what sort of things wouldn’t have heard that, or would have heard and wouldn’t care. “You,” he said, pointing his large finger at me. “Said you would do as you’re told, is that right?”
I nodded quickly, wondering which of the weapony things I would carry.
He opened the back door of the car and elaborately gestured inside. “You’ll stay right here, in the car.”
Osmond grinned, not bothering to look at me while Snowy rolled her eyes.
“But…” I began, wanting to stamp my foot. I sighed instead, climbing into the backseat thinking that this hadn’t been the best idea in the world before he winked at me.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. There’s sure to be something interesting to see, and you’ll be safe in this old monster.” He patted the car fondly before he slammed the door on me with a clang that sounded like chains and prison cells. “Come on then,” he said, not bothering to look at Osmond or Snowy as he pushed through the underbrush and soon disappeared out of sight, the bare branches above him creaking in his passing.
Snowy and Osmond followed him without a word to me, but Osmond did look at me for a second before he glanced away.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat. I’d mostly wanted to come along so that I could get a better picture of what Osmond was really like. I’d seen a glimpse of the dangerous guy with the torch, but he’d been such a big brother, all, ‘don’t go in the woods with us because you’ll just get yourself killed’, instead of something more interesting. It bothered me that I was so sisterly to him when I’d seen something else. I didn’t exactly want him to like me, but I wanted the possibility to be there. I hated being defenseless and without any alluring qualities. Of course, I’d been the one to wear the pony shirt because I liked it instead of all black, like I really was a scary girl who could take care of herself and who boys wanted to kiss. The only boy who wanted to kiss me I’d probably never see again.
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and opened my backpack to start on my homework. It was cold in the car. I could see my breath in the air, but my fingers weren’t numb yet and getting homework done would keep me from dwelling on the frustrating possibilities that would never be, not when I’d lost my soul instead of growing up like Snowy or Osmond—dangerous and deadly. I drowned out my thoughts in Ms. Brigg’s reading assignments. There was a whole list of poetry I was supposed to be analyzing, bleak, dark stuff that made me wish I’d stayed in Sanders instead of following Snowy and Osmond like a stupid puppy. Osmond was cute; there was no doubt about it. Any girl would agree, but did I actually like him?
I had a mental image of Lewis, of his passive face while scary me had tried to kill him. He hadn’t seemed surprised or upset, or anything else really. He hadn’t been throwing fireballs at me. He hadn’t done anything at all. He hadn’t had to. He was simply impossible to kill. I’d thought I liked him, well, a little more than liked, but at the same time I still knew next to nothing about him, and I was not that scary girl who could attack him fearlessly. I was someone with a pure soul who thought Osmond was cute. Lewis wasn’t cute. He was beautiful, yes, cute, no, and definitely out of my league, not to mention that I’d told him I never wanted to see him again.
I heard a scraping sound out the window from the woods, like metal scraped over metal. I stared at the bare trees, silent, gray sentinels that seemed like statues, a mimicry of life instead of real growing things. Everything was so dead, so empty. The sound came again. It lasted longer this time, a drawn out sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was overly aware of my own breathing once the sound had faded again.
I shook my head and forced myself to concentrate on the lines and stanzas of a poem, but instead I noticed my hand shaking as it tried to grasp the red pencil. It felt like I’d been there forever, but it had probably only been twenty minutes or so. Osmond had been right; all of this was too scary, too intense for someone who had the emotional maturity of a six-year-old. It was exasperating, but true.
I wrapped the end of my ponytail around my finger, tugging absently at my hair. My hair went with my soul, pretty, innocent, and more suited to blue ponies than dark winter woods.
“Satan said I would be safe,” I told myself, sounding loud in the empty car. “He might also be trying to scare me a little bit so that I am aware that this isn’t a fun and exciting thing to do. Which worked, actually,” I added in case he was listening.
The scraping came again, louder, and it seemed to come from the other side, past Snowy’s SUV instead of the closer woods.
“It’s nothing, or the wind, or something else dragging something metal around,” I said, thinking that wasn’t exactly likely.
I jumped and shrieked when something thumped above my head. A pinecone rolled off the roof and down to the icy mud. I exhaled and turned back to my writing assignment, almost glad that I had to concentrate to read the small letters of poetry in the dim light. I shouldn’t let my imagination get the better of me even if I apparently had a very active, creative mind. Maybe I would be an artist someday after all. I smiled slightly until I heard the sound.
The whine was mournful, a drawn out quivering sound that made my heart ache for whatever poor lost thing made the noise. I looked out the window along the line of trees and barely could make out a gray figure, dragging itself along the ground, its fur matted and patchy while it’s large black eyes gazed around pleadingly searching for aid of some kind—any kind. It was a dog. What else could it be? I watched it creep forward, favoring its hind leg. It stopped, curled up in the freezing mud and began to nuzzle the back leg, the one that was hurt.
I put a hand on the door handle, pulling slightly. It’s head snapped up as if he heard the sound, and its eyes met mine, enormous black eyes that seemed to plead with me. It seemed to ask if I had compassion, how I could sit in my warm, comfortable car and let an injured, innocent animal shiver in the cold. It was shivering, I could see it, and if it stretched out I would be able to see its ribs. It didn’t look away as I felt a wave of guilt and struggled to justify why I should stay where I was instead of running to this creature’s aid. I pulled the handle until with a loud click it unlatched.
The dog/thing launched itself at the car with powerful apparently unharmed back legs, showing a thick body and curved claws, as well as a tail that uncurled, lashing like a whip with a strange tuft at the end. It should have hit the door and knocked it closed, but it landed short then proceeded to grip the handle with its teeth to rip it open. I hadn’t realized how large it was; from across the clearing it had looked very small. It had only taken a moment for all of this to happen, and I would probably have ended up in the belly of the creature if the second its teeth touched the door handle green sparks hadn’t exploded in its mouth, making the creature yelp and retreat.
I jerked the handle closed, slamming down the locking mechanism while the creature retreated to the trees. I heard it lament, a long drawn out howl that made my stomach turn. What kind of creature could play a game like that—the kind of game that would play on my sympathy?
I stared at the trees, wondering if the creature would be back, when I heard a sound of metal on metal from the other side of the ca
r, low, so low that I couldn’t see anything out the window. I held my breath as I waited, hearing nothing, wondering if I’d imagined the sound, when I heard a slight thump from right below where I was sitting—like something was under the car. I whimpered then closed my eyes while I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, wishing that Satan would come back really fast and blow something up, even if there wasn’t anything actually out there, just to distract me from the sound. I looked the other way, out the window the dog/thing had been and screamed, and screamed, and screamed as the fangs, distended eyes and claws hovered centimeters from the glass, as though the creature knew to keep from actually touching the car and getting shocked by the green sparks.
“That’s really quite loud,” someone said in a low voice that I managed to hear in spite of the fact that my scream still hurtled through the night.
I gasped, ready to scream again as I turned to find a figure wrapped in darkness beside me on the seat. I sat with my mouth hanging open as I stared at the shadow that had materialized out of thin air, the shadow that smelled rich, dark and deep, like autumn, like death, like everything I’d craved when I had Lewis’ Hotblood soul. I wasn’t sure if I should keep screaming, or give up since the creature had apparently found a way past Satan’s runes and there was nothing I could do to stop it from whatever the Nether thing was going to do.
“Don’t stop on my account, by all means. You’re certainly not safer with me in this car.”
I scowled at him, disliking his tone, the way his words were condescending. “I know that being with you is not safer. What are you doing here?” I demanded, glad I’d gone from hysterical screaming to speaking almost rationally. My heart still pounded in my chest but hopefully he didn’t notice. “And what is that?” I asked, pointing out at the creature where it sat, jaws extended hovering just above the glass.
He said a word that I didn’t understand, something full of hisses and rumbles that were familiar to me, taking me back to the woods when I’d first seen the creature and it had spoken in that language with my father.
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