House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 16

By Dabeagle

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Nick raised a shield around a large rock and had me tap into Ty again, pulling moisture from the air and ground to drive needles of water into the shield. He was sweating to maintain the shield, rebuilding each time I hit, pummeling the defensive measure until I finally breached it and the rock started to show signs of water hitting it.

“Gah! You're so much stronger with Ty as a conduit,” Nick said, wiping his brow.

I nodded enthusiastically, sweating hard myself. “I thought I was strong after the bonding, but this is a whole new gear.”

“Looks crazy,” Keats said. “Do you have to move your hands and stuff to make it all work?”

I shook my head. “It's theater. I figure if we're going up to scare the crap out of normies, they need some stage craft to know I'm the one fucking their world up.”

Nick nodded. “About that. Jay was very excited to scout the Moodys' property, so we did that while you were working in the garage. What we found was...confusing.” He frowned and crossed his arms. “Firstly, the main structure is fairly small, and the single outbuilding is both newer and better maintained than the house. There are well worn tracks from the rear of the house to the outbuilding and dirt tracks from vehicles to the outbuilding.”

“Okay,” I said, not seeing what was concerning.

“This tells us that the outbuilding is important – more important than maintaining the home. There was also a... well, I hate to say it like this, but a feeling. A vibe. An aura of rot.” He put a hand to his chest. “I've never felt anything like it, though it somehow felt familiar.” He shook his head. “I'm sorry. Saying I have a bad feeling feels...insubstantial.”

I glanced at Keats and back to Nick. “It might be nerves, but...is there anything we can do to get more information? Or do we just go in with the idea it might not be just putting the fear of magic into these people?”

Nick glanced to Ty, who was the one to respond. “I think we go in with the idea there may be something more at play than we realize. When it comes to things like magic, I can't dismiss anything. If Nick says something's off, then we should go in on our guard.”

Nick nodded. “Thank you.” He looked to me. “Both of you. It would be much simpler to ignore what I felt.”

“Speaking of them,” I said. “Keats and I were talking. You mentioned your friends did some background checking. Do we know how deep any local officials are in terms of protecting them? The one Moody at school was acting like nothing could touch him, the way he acted today.”

“Reckless behavior can be a symptom in a lot of things,” Ty said. “Sometimes it's just because it's been a successful way for them to get what they want. But...given what Nick felt, maybe there's something deeper driving things.”

“Does that give us any kind of clue?” Keats asked. “Did your grandma have any ideas?”

Nick brightened. “Actually, I didn't think to mention it to her yet. Why don't we ask her?”

I glanced at my phone. “Um. Actually, would you mind checking in with her without us? I was hoping we could make use of your pond. Things have been stressful lately.”

Keats coughed. “He's actually talking about me. I've been...scared. About what's going on. Seeing Til hurt today just, kind of ramped things up.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Nick said. “Be my guest, please. Go down and soak. We'll join you in a bit.”

I felt awkward at the idea they'd get naked in the water with us, but right then I just wanted to make Keats feel better, so I set that aside. Ty and Nick headed for the house, and I walked to the side with Keats, headed for the small stand of foliage and the beach before the pond.

“Uh. So we're supposed to go skinny dipping in here?” he asked uncertainly.

“Well, I want you to go skinny dipping so I can see you naked,” I said with a grin.

He snorted, blushing. “Well.” He glanced around, looking at the foliage and how screened we were from the house. Looking back to me, he nodded and started pulling his clothes off. I copied him, and then we walked into the water, holding hands and me standing on the balls of my feet while he went out just a bit deeper.

“Wow,” he said appreciatively. “He wasn't kidding about this being relaxing.”

I let the soothing feelings wash through me, almost as if I were cloth and the water was washing anxiety out like a stain. I moved a little deeper to reach Keats and wrapped my hands around his neck to hold the lower part of my face above water. He moved his hands to my back to help keep me in place, where I rested the side of my head against his shoulder. The water made me buoyant enough that it didn’t matter my toes weren't touching the bottom anymore; I was floating with Keats my only anchor to the world.

“You've changed me,” Keats said softly. “I feel like I can really be myself with you. I'm...sorry for worrying so much.”

“I'm sorry this is so stressful.” I nuzzled my face against him. “The bonding sure knows what it's doing.”

“Did you just stay at the garage today for...I mean, you need to practice, and....”

“I wanted to spend time with you,” I said. “Yeah, I do need to practice, but the reason I'm doing any of this dangerous crap is for the people I love. You're at the top of that list.” I brought one hand up to his neck, just running my finger over his skin. “I like doing the car work with you. You love making things work, taking something somebody loves like an old car and putting time into it so it can be enjoyed again. You're happy doing that, and I like to see you being happy. It makes me happy.”

We stayed silent then for a few minutes, one of his hands straying up into my hair and stroking gently. The water seemed to match our body temperature, and I didn't think I could get stressed out here. I knew if I was feeling that relaxed, so was Keats – otherwise I'd feel it.

“We got some answers,” Nick called out as he and Ty appeared from behind the foliage. They quickly disrobed and were in the water. I felt a little anxiety at the weird situation of being naked with them; you know, all of us together like that. Stray thoughts about if it meant anything was expected or would be if I was part of House Frost...and the concern just melted away.

“What did you find out?” Keats asked.

“My grandmother said that the feeling I had was probably similar to the feeling Tilman gets when he's around Michael's magic; a reaction to an opposite.”

I thought about that for a moment and then lifted my head to look at Nick. “You mean...there's a death mage there? With the Moodys?”

Nick nodded. “It tracks with the little I know about death mages, at least in terms of me perceiving the rot. I'm going to do some research tonight, but I wanted to tell you this much, because you need to be on your guard. Even though it carries risk, I'd suggest you use your blessing if you get attacked again.”

“Huh,” I said, laying my head back down on Keats's shoulder. “Well, maybe Keats can save me.”

There was beat of silence, and then Ty asked, “Keaton? Has something...changed?”

Keats shifted a bit, turning more to face them. “Yeah. Um. Something happened today. Kind of caught me by surprise.”

They were both interested and excited. I wasn't sure Keats was really excited about a talent. There was a lot he probably didn't know about it yet, and the whole idea that you can suddenly do magic of some kind sort of messes with your concept of the natural order of things. Of course, I'd kind of already done that, so maybe it would be easier for him this time.

“So you're a metallurgist,” Nick said with interest. “You should research about them in the interchange; there's bound to be something in there about them.”

“Uh. Yeah. Still kind of...you know, accepting it.”

Ty nodded. “I can understand. I was surprised myself, when it happened to me, but the circumstances were different. I thought Nick was dying, and I'd have done anything to save him, so when he started to channel through me...I was just happy with the results. I didn't think about anything else until later, really. I can't do much on my own – though I can make a weak light and small stuff like that. My real strength comes in helping someone else.”

“Yeah, I...well, I'm seeing applications with what I like to do – like with cars. I'm not so sure it's useful for anything else,” he said.

“I bet you could do things like make a shield or sword if you just had metal to work with. Stuff like that,” I said, trailing my fingertips across his shoulder.

“Huh. I hadn't thought of that,” Keats said.

Ty turned in the water and wrapped Nick in a hug.

“How long will you wait to tell your dad?” I asked Keats.

He shrugged. “Tomorrow, maybe. I just want him to stew a little first.”

“You think he'll be okay with it?”

He chuckled. “As much as my dad and I can get on each other's nerves, I know he loves me, and I love him. Once he gets over the shock, he's going to want me reshaping sheet metal for restorations like mad.”

“That's good,” I said quietly. “I feel so relaxed I could almost fall asleep.”

“Yeah. We should probably go, though. Your grandparents will have dinner waiting for us, and they probably want to play cards again.”

“Ugh. They keep killing us at it!” I said with a chuckle.

“Tomorrow we should work with your blessing, Keaton. Maybe do some research,” Nick said.

Keats shifted and nodded. “Um. Yeah. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I left the recharged port key on your clothes,” Nick told us. “Have a good night, and good work today.”

We walked out of the water, and I quickly got us dry so we could pull our clothes on. We departed, arriving back at the garage. On the way to my home we were quiet, with just the radio on low, the stillness of the pond staying with us. Once home we ate and then played a few games of cards, and while we made progress, they still wiped the floor with us. Of course, Dorothy wanted to check me over after the attack that day and was very worried about where things were headed.

Keats said he'd been feeling that way, too, but that he felt better that a plan was taking shape and not something that was being rushed into. We wandered off to bed around eleven and just curled into each other, and I felt like this was the only place in the world I wanted to be.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^

“This is stupid,” I muttered to myself.

“Well, what else can you say? Healed by a Leprechaun overnight or something?” Dorothy asked tartly as she wrapped my hand in a bandage.

“I'm so tired of being 'injured',” I complained.

“Well, stop being so dangerous,” she said with a little grin on her face.

“You're enjoying this,” I sulked.

She patted my hand. “It beats actually being injured, you have to admit.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I guess Keats can carry my bag for me at least.”

“You have another good hand,” he said with a grin. “Come on, we'll be late.”

He dropped me off at school and left for the garage, only leaving me with a kiss and a teasing statement to have a good day. What do I see in this guy again?

There were random people saying things about me, about the fight. Lots of people claiming to have been there. Sometimes I heard I won the fight, other times I'd almost died. I think that second one was closer to the truth. To make it even more fun, I had to go down to the principal's office to tell them what happened from 'my point of view'. The police had been notified, and the school's camera evidence was being handed over, though they'd probably want a statement as well and would reach out to Leonard and Dorothy. By the time lunch came around, I was sick of it all. Of course, Sid was falling over himself to apologize, and I don't know if he was sorry for doing it, sorry it turned out like it did or worried I'd yank his cranial fluid out of his asshole.

“Stop!” I said loudly. I held my hands out level and slowly lowered them, along with the volume of my voice. “Just...stop. Sid, you couldn't have known he'd go that far, and probably...it was hard to resist poking that particular ugly bear. Besides,” I said with a sigh. “This is all Lewis's fault.”

“Bro, what?” Lewis asked, laughing.

“If you hadn't hit me with your truck, I wouldn't be sitting here right now,” I chided him, shaking my head.

“Killing me, bro,” Lewis said with a shake of his head. “But I blame Sid; stepping to Moody like he was going to back up his mouth. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn't thinking he'd go hunting me,” Sid said and sighed. Personally, I thought he figured his mouth could write a check I'd cash. I mean...he wasn't completely wrong. I'm not a white knight or anything, but I'd like to think if I saw Moody – even before he'd screwed with me – go after someone like Sid, I'd intervene.

After school I was pleased to find Keats there to pick me up. “This is a nice surprise,” I said to him.

“Had to get out of the shop and see my baby,” he said, patting the hood of his car.

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“Dad. He was on me about those cab corners, and I busted his chops as much as I could. But...then I showed him, and he freaked out, and we argued, and things were said.” He sighed. “It's just how he is. He has to blow up, first. Leonard told me to go get you, while he tried to slap some sense into my dad.”

“Oh. Um, I'm sorry, babe.”

“Eh,” He turned toward me and gave me a rueful smile. “It comes with the territory sometimes. Dad explodes before he can look at all the pieces and put things back together. At least that's what mom says. I admit, it's not always easy that he does that, but it'll be okay.” He took my hand. “Besides, I get to see you.”

“I like that,” I said. “So did you make a ton of progress?”

Putting the car in gear he nodded. “Fixed a few small things on the frame, got the cab in to paint; can start laying the primer coat tonight. Being able to shape the metal so easily turned several days and a lot of hours into just a few hours of work. Sometimes I leave ruts in the metal from my fingers, but I'm getting better. Have to let that first coat cook, but if I get it done tonight, it'll be ready for a color coat tomorrow night – the day after at the latest. Then a second color coat before a clear to seal it. Can start putting it together by the beginning of next week.”

“That seems like a win,” I told him.

He nodded. “Sometimes certain sections can be too far gone to repair. I think, after seeing how deep the rot was on the cowl Leonard was thinking about trying to find a cab in better shape; but he's a purist and wanted to keep it as original as possible.” He paused. “Except for upgrading the electric. I think he's done with the wiring. Harness for the brake lights, front end – the wiring harness for the dash was good enough not to mess with, he said.”

We walked into the garage, and Andrew was waiting. “You. Go primer the cab,” he said to Keats. “You, with me.” This was directed at me.

I raised an eyebrow at Keats, and he just rolled his eyes and pecked my cheek. “Good luck. He's always cranky after a tantrum.”

“Paint!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once Keats was several feet away, Andrew put his hands on his hips. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

I have to be clear. I can do things that would scare the fuck out of most people. While Andrew doesn't frighten me, I feel respect for him due to his relationship with Keats. It speaks to him being a decent person, if imperfect like the rest of us. So I don't want him to be upset, but at the same time I wasn't going to act like a scared boy. Even if the situation made me a little nervous.

“Okay.”

He turned his head slightly, angling an ear toward me. “Okay what?”

I stared at him for a second, struggling to find the right answer. “Okay...sir?” That felt absurd to say and he frowned at me.

“Try again.”

Confused, but feeling less nervous, I wracked my brain trying to come up with the proper response. He rolled his hand, prompting me.

I flapped my arms. “Okay, Andrew?”

He curled his lip and shook his head.

I laughed a little. “Okay, Dad?”

He snapped his fingers. “Took you long enough. Now you listen to me,” he said, taking a step toward me. “That is my son. This...magic shit is a lot. He's struggling, no matter what he says. If you hurt him, if you don't support him – if he gets one fucking hair singed, no amount of magic will save you.”

Oh, was that all. “If anyone tried to hurt him, I'd kill them,” I said simply. “I nearly did not that long ago, and if he hadn't stopped me...maybe you don't understand this bond thing that well. He's part of me. No one gets to him without going through me.”

He looked at me steadily, his mouth slightly open. “Killed someone? What the fuck?”

I nodded slowly. “We were down by the river, the day before the fire out at the pump station. Two Moodys came after us. One was swinging a bat at him, and I...I saw red. I've never been so angry, so...I nearly killed her.”

He swallowed. “Well...I.”

I shook my head. “It's okay.” I sighed. “Leonard and I talked just after I got here. I told him I was like a loaded gun, and he reminded me that they have safeties and such. It doesn't mean they aren't dangerous, but that...”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “No matter how strong you are, you always need people. Neither of you are alone in this.”

I regarded him steadily. He snorted. “Come on. It's time you got your hands dirty.”

Curious at his sudden shift, but confident it wasn't really over, I followed him to a bay that had been empty last time I'd noticed but now had a dirty car – and I do mean dirty – sitting in it, lopsided, with one flat tire and another pretty soft.

“What's this thing?” I asked.

Again, putting his hands on his hips he said, “As a member of this family, you should know things like that. You're way behind in your education, and I'll have to talk to Son about that.”

I found it curious that he was pointedly calling me family; it was almost like some switch had been flipped in his head. I decided to let it pass for the moment.

“He's been teaching me other things,” I said, giving him a crooked grin, which he didn't see as he was focused on the car.,

“I hate this car,” he said quietly. “The Thunderbird used to be a car with style and some teeth underneath that style. Then they made this...aero-blob piece of shit.” He cleared his throat. “This is the worst one, even the models they made in the 70s, which we don't talk about,” he turned his head and spat, “were better. Not by much, mind.”

I approached the car and saw that this would not be a model Keats would like. It was very rounded, with four square headlights up front, covered by a piece of glass. There was no chrome, no angles. I glanced at the dashboard and knew Keats would hate this car. The dash was dominated by two big gauges – one for the speedometer and one for the gas gauge. I commented on that fact.

“Yeah. I knew a couple, once. The two of them didn't have a pair of brain cells between them. They got a new car, and the wife was telling me to look at the gas gauge, which was like this one here.” He paused. “She thought the car could carry more gas because the gauge was bigger.”

I stared for a second. “Uh.”

“Yeah. So, we get barn finds for restoration,” Andrew said. “First step is always to inspect the vehicle, so we can tell the customer what it's going to take – likely – to restore it or at least make it safe to drive again. This is just a starting point, as things always change once you peel back layers of bullshit on an old car.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Someone wants to drive this?”

He finally looked at me. “Insane, right?”

“It's ugly.”

“Fucking right.”

“What do you mean by layers of bullshit?”

He glanced at me and then back to the car. “It's like this. Some bozo puts their car away from some reason, doesn't really matter what it is, but then they come to folks like me. They always start with 'it ran when I parked it'. Then they'll say the engine was just rebuilt, but in fact what they did was a redneck rebuild, which means they just spray painted the block to look nice.”

I frowned. “But...why?”

“Oh, that's just the tip of the iceberg,” he said, as if I hadn't spoken. I got the sense he was warming to a subject. “Next they'll say they pickled the car properly before putting it away – like draining the gas from the tank and emptying the fuel system.”

“Why would you do that?”

He turned to me. “Gasoline breaks down over time and can turn into varnish, which is also corrosive. It can really cause a lot of extra work.” He pointed at me. “My point is, people lie.”

I tilted my head. “Do you...think I've lied to you?”

“What? Well, no.” He shook his head and pressed his lips together, placed his hands on his hips and looked to one side. “He's my son. You never really know what it means to love someone until you see that tiny human and realize that they completely depend on you.” He looked back to me. “I'm not stupid. I know I can't protect my son from the world, though I've tried. Then there's you.”

“I-”

“I don't care if you can yank every fluid out of every hole I've got, if you hurt my son, I'll come for you.”

Again with the threats.

I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them and focused on him as I dialed back my irritation. “Look, Dad,” I said, using the term deliberately. “If someone hurt him, you'd better not be between me and whoever it is, because there will be blood.”

He raised his chin and swallowed. “Did you have anything to do with...what he...how he is...now?”

“His talent?” I asked. “It's a side effect of the bonding, is what we learned. Sometimes a non-magical person who enters into a bond will develop a talent.”

He glanced back toward the paint booth area and asked, “Is he okay with that?”

I smiled. “Yes. He's getting used to it and getting excited about the things he may be able to do.”

“But...can it hurt him?”

With a flash of insight, I understood. I shook my head. “No. A talent means you can do something others can't, that's all. He's safe.”

He nodded slowly and let out a slow breath. He turned his gaze back to me and made a small cough. “Uh. Sorry about that. I just....”

“It's okay, Dad. Really. I'm going to take good care of Keats.” I paused and thought for a moment. “But...you're right. What you said before about needing people. I never had a dad that would stand up for me or teach me, and I know he loves you – even when you guys are fighting. I...have a lot to learn, still, about being in a relationship. Like...when you yelled at me the other day, I didn't like it...but I think you were right.”

He moved his jaw as if chewing something. “Well. You're mine now. I think maybe I'll be learning from you, too.”

Feeling exposed in a weird way, I changed the subject. “But...maybe you should finish teaching me about this...terrible car?”

He cleared his throat. “Okay, so first we walk around the outside with our clip – oh, grab me that clipboard from the work bench, would ya?”

I obliged and held the board to him, but he looked away. “Notice on the page we begin with the exterior. We want to walk around and look for damage – what will have to be cut out and replaced or maybe having to find a replacement body panel. We want to look for dents and imperfections that may require body work or panel replacement. We want to detail trim that's missing or damaged, exterior mirrors, glass – all of that. This is important; you'll need to learn this for estimates.”

That felt kind of important to me; like he was imparting something more important than a simple job. More that it was the promise of becoming part of the business – the family business. We spent about forty minutes on a walk around, and I was making notes on the paper of the items he pointed out. It was about three pages, but it also took longer because he was making sure I saw what the problem was, telling me how it likely happened, and having me make a note if something could potentially be salvaged or if we'd have to source a new part.

“Okay, that's a decent list,” he said. “Let's open the door and get a look.”

The door opened with a nasty creak, and I was hit with an odor I couldn't identify but immediately made me step back a few steps.

“Oh. Man. Smells like an old sweat sock soaked with mouse piss,” he said. “Yeah, might take me a minute. Uh. Maybe I'll get a mask. Yeah, mask. Don't want to inhale mouse turds.”

He crossed to the bay on the opposite side of the room and opened a cabinet to grab a breathing mask. He put it on as he walked back and then leaned into the car. His voice was a bit muffled, but I could understand him.

“Whole thing has to be cleaned out. Probably have to remove the interior and steam clean it, if it can be saved,” he said. He sat down on the driver's seat and looked up. “Oh, this headliner-” he reached up as he spoke and touched the headliner, I presumed, and was showered with...stuff. “Oh! Christ, that's my retina,” he said, leaning out of the door and shaking his head.

“Do you want some water to rinse your eye with?”

“Nah. I'll just squint for the rest of my life. I'll be fine.” He sat back up and yanked the mask off violently before he sneezed twice. “Okay, cleared that all out. You know, I think this whole thing just has to be cleaned or replaced.” He climbed out of the car. “Okay, let's see if it turns over.”

He popped the hood and put a thin metal rod in place to hold the hood up.

“What's that?” I asked.

“The prop rod?” He glanced at me, and I nodded. “Oh, car manufacturers used to put nice springs in to support the hood, but then they figured out it was cheaper to put this prop rod in here. Continuing cheapening of cars, poorer materials and pursuit of more profit for the shareholder by shaving off a penny in production.”

“Uh. Okay.”

He showed me how to clean the battery terminals, and then we put a battery in. He told me to turn the engine over, and I just stared at him.

“Well?”

I raised an eyebrow. “How do I do that?”

He matched my eyebrow. “Bump the key.”

I turned my head slightly, but still stared at him.

He leaned forward. “Get in the car and turn the ignition key.”

I thought I had enough information to work with, so I opened the door – and immediately stepped back as the wall of mouse-centered smells hit me. I took a breath, held it and reached in to grab the key and turned. The car made a few anemic noises, then spun faster and the engine caught, but sounded like there was a rhythmic metal thump coming from it.

“Turn it off!”

I turned the key back and slammed the door. “What was that noise?”

He shook his head. “Anything from a dented oil pan that lets the crank hit it to a bad bearing.” He looked at me. “Nothing good, is the short answer, though.” He had me detail a few more things, then put the car in the air and walked me through the suspension, exhaust and inspection of the undercarriage.

Then we went into the office, and he started walking me through the process to estimate the time to repair or restore parts of the car. Keats walked in and asked what we were doing.

“Working up numbers on the Turd-Bird. Or Thunder Turd. Which one you think works better?” Andrew asked his son.

“That junker?” he asked, sitting down. “We should crush it along with that Valiant.”

“Shut your face,” Andrew grumbled. “Rude kid. When you coming home tonight? Tonight's your night at home, right?”

Keats nodded slowly. “Why? What are you up to?”

“Just want some help in the morning; supposed to get six inches overnight.”

I glanced at Keats and grinned; he rolled his eyes at me, but blushed. So hot. “So, shoveling then?”

“Well, since the frame broke last year on the plow truck – and getting a new plow is fucking expensive – yeah. We can break out the snowblower, too.”

“I can clear it in the morning, as long as no one sees,” I said. I wiggled my fingers. “Snow's just frozen water.”

Andrew paused. “Yeah. Didn't think of that. You going to do that and head over to your grandparents?”

I nodded. Soon we were back at Nick's for another round of work, this time with me working one on one with Nick while Ty took Keats to the interchange to study up on being a metallurgist and what that may mean. We ended our visit with another trip to the pond and some talk with Nick and Ty, though there hadn't been any real progress to talk about. Instead, I asked about the Magisterium and how the guy who'd tried to kill him had gotten away with things.

It was an amazing story. I could understand better why he wasn't a fan of the whole magi setup of Houses and had chosen to share his life with normals. In bed later, Keats asked what I thought being part of a house would mean, and I admitted I didn't know.

“Houses were like...I guess like an 'important person' thing, you know? Like you grow up in a small town and not one of these trust fund kids? That's kind of the way I saw houses before. But...if you're on your own, any of them could pick on you. I guess being part of a house means there are consequences for fucking with you. Plus, I like the idea of helping things where I can, like Nick's philosophy. But I guess we'd have to ask him about that. What makes you ask?”

“He was mentioning it to you the other night. I just thought...we're a pair. If you are part of the house, am I? Should we talk about it first?”

“Well, duh, yeah, we should talk about it first. I wanted to be part of a house when I was little, just like some kids want to be policemen or something. Now? I just want to be where you are.”

He started to kiss my neck. “You know where I want to be right now?” He pressed his hard length against my hip, and I figured I knew.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

We were up at the ass crack of dawn. I went out front and cleaned the sidewalk and driveway, then we filled coffee cups and went to my house to clean up there. We had breakfast with my grandparents but then noticed that school had been canceled for a snow day. Apparently, more snow was expected in about two hours, and it was going to be another six to eight inches.

I made no comments but made significant eye contact with Keats. I love making him blush.

We made our way down to the garage and were thinking about getting the water pump in when our plans were derailed by Nick and Ty showing up with Nick's grandma.

“Hey. You guys are a little early,” I said, not sure what else to say.

Nick nodded in a way I interpreted as serious. “We think we should move today on the Moodys.”

Keats frowned to match my own. “I thought...I mean, why?”

“Remember what I said about the death mage and I was going to do more research? Well, I got back to that after you guys left last night,” Nick said. “It turns out that death mages are largely responsible for the idea of vampires.”

I stared. “Say again?”

Nick nodded grimly, but Ty picked up the conversation. “What we were able to find is a lot of things that line up roughly with the lore of a vampire; photo sensitivity, the concept of day runners or people not affected by the photo sensitivity to act on their behalf, even feeding on people, if you correlate life energy with blood.”

My eyes probably couldn't get wider, and I glanced at Keats before looking back to Nick and Ty. “And so we want to go after them now why?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Matilda snapped. “You said he was perceptive, Nicholas.”

He held a hand toward her and looked back to me. “First, we'll want to strike during the day to maximize our advantage. Second, given a water mage is leading the assault, a snowstorm seems ideal, although a thunderstorm might be even better.”

I thought for a second. “Yeah. I see your point.”

“You're not going without me,” Keats said firmly.

“Babe, no,” I said urgently. “Nick will be focused on trying to shield Ty and me already, and I have to try to disable or kill people-”

“Let's go with the latter rather than the former,” Matilda said.

Keats looked to Nick. “Can't I make a shield too or something? Anything to help?”

Nick looked a little lost. “I...with some training, perhaps. I don't know much about metallurgists.”

“I have an idea,” Ty said. “Let's assume this thing is a complete clusterfuck. We may not have time to portal; a getaway driver with a vehicle where someone can be laid down would be ideal.”

I thought Keats might protest, but instead he clenched his jaw and nodded. Shit. Nick laid down a small map on a worktable, and we mapped out where the road was, where Keats would wait and how we'd approach the buildings. The formation was simple – I'd be up front, with Ty behind me, open to me as a conduit. Nick would be on my other side to shield and also be able to reach Ty if he needed a boost. Matilda would be behind us, ready to shut down a caster.

We didn't want to overthink, so we piled into Keats's car and headed out. Nick was very clear we needed to disable people quickly, as the death mage could prove a real issue; there was also that Michael could be drawn in and was likely getting antsy without my casting to draw him from wherever he was. The last thing we needed was Michael showing up while the death mage was still in play.

“So, what does the death mage get out of this?” I asked. “I mean, why go through this trouble?”

“People's motivations are like flowers in a field,” Matilda said. “They may be the same type of flower, even the same plant, but each petal may want something else. Money seems base, but if I had to guess, it's control.”

“Control of what?” Keats asked.

“The Moody family. Whatever illegal business they run. The local officials who can't move against them.” She snorted. “Think of it. A criminal family who is feared locally is completely cowed by you, and yet also beholden as you enhance their business. To be able to control people and to be able to feed off that, like sucking blood, it becomes intoxicating, like a drug. Truly a soup of the worst of humanity.”

By the time we arrived at the edge of the Moody property, the snow was starting to fall in earnest. We climbed from the car, and I went to Keats, looking up at his dark eyes. “This is where I'm coming back to,” I told him.

He lifted his chin. “This is where I'll be waiting for you.”

I nodded and in a shaky voice said, “I love you.”

He smirked, and I thought he was going to try and be funny, but he said, “You know I love you back.”

I tilted my head and smiled tentatively. “And my front?”

He shrugged. “Let's go with the back for now.”

“Brat,” I said with a laugh. We looked at each other with serious expressions. I felt like we were communicating without words, and there was so much to say that it wasn't easy to find a single idea in all of it. A mad tangle of love, worry, fear, and resolve. Nick cleared his throat, and I nodded to Keats, deciding we'd said the important things.

“Okay,” I said to Nick, Ty and Matilda. “Let's go.”

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