Hotblood (10 page)

I froze looking down at my leg. I blinked and poked my thigh; then splashing, I sat down in the tub and wrapped my arms around my knees, trying not to notice the muscular definition.

My dad had said I’d been asleep for a week. I had a completely different body than the one I’d had when I got here. It wasn’t possible to get muscular in your sleep. It wasn’t possible for me to throw my dad. I shook my head and put it on my knees, rubbing the place in my arm where the needle had been. I was a Hotblood, and this was real. Everything my dad said was real. Satan had really exploded the tree. My dad had gotten inside of me then messed with my emotions. Me: I was truly incapable of controlling myself when I was caught in the grip of that horrible fury. It was all real.

I slid down under the water and focused on scrubbing myself until my skin was pink all over. I focused on the way my body felt instead of how my mind spun around and around inside my head. When I stepped out, I dried myself on an old towel. I didn’t wonder where the stack of clothes came from; I just put them on. The silky camisole felt strange on my skin. The image of my father crumpled on the ground came into my head, and I closed my eyes. I’d really hurt my father. I’d really killed an innocent animal. I took a deep breath and adjusted the wrap dress, focusing on how the silk felt under my fingers instead of letting my mind cover ground I wasn’t ready for.

At the bottom of the stairs, I saw a glow in the room to the right and followed that light, along with the smell of something cooking. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Ethel’s back across the large room where she stood in front of an old-fashioned wood stove. The lamps, the wood stove, did my dad even have electricity? At least he had plumbing. I looked around and saw an enormous hutch taking up one wall with an odd assortment of jars and baskets perched precariously on top of each other. One wall was mostly windows with sunshine and greenery on the other side. My dad sat at a long table in front of the windows, looking out into the garden.

“
Dad?” He turned and smiled at me, rising to his feet at the same time Ethel turned.

“
You’re looking better already. Sit down there,” Ethel said coming up to me and helping me into a chair beside my father. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

I smiled and sat there feeling awkward.

I ate while my dad sat and spun his glass in his fingers, the dark green liquid gleaming in his goblet.

“
What are you drinking?” I asked.

My dad extended the glass beneath my nose. It was the smell of things growing, the smell of life. “It’s springtime. I’m not sure how your body would react to something that cool. For the moment we’ll stick with warm things.”

I nodded like that made sense to me, but it didn’t. It was fine for him to explain things, but it didn’t seem real. “Why did I have a blood transfusion?” I tried to keep my voice calm and quiet but it was difficult with how disoriented I felt. I was in a new place with new people, and had no idea who I was anymore. “How did I get so big in just one week?”

“
You’re still too thin in my mind,” Ethel said while she cleared away the plates in front of me.

My dad spun his glass while he mused. “Your soul seems intent on keeping you alive. I think that if you keep your strength up you won’t have trouble with it. It’s not so much destructive as all consuming.”

“
All consuming? It? You’re talking about my soul like it has a personality.”

“
Of course souls have personalities. Do you want any more bacon?” Ethel asked. I shook my head then changed my mind. She heaped some on my plate but I hesitated before I took another bite. At the rate I was gaining, I might want to watch what I ate. I’d never thought I’d understand what Snowy was always going on about. You didn’t worry about watching your weight when everything tasted like cardboard.

I sucked on my fork tasting the metal, so different from food, from how my forks had tasted for a very long time. Everything was different.

“
Go on and eat,” Ethel said and gave me a look. I stared back at her until she shook her head and sighed. “Teenagers! If you must watch your weight, go ahead, but it’s ridiculous. You’re barely healthy you know.”

“
Ethel, thank you,” my dad said softly. She glanced between us then shook her head and left the room.

“
Why did I chase the animal? I was trying to get Grim to help you but I got distracted. I’m really sorry about your head.” It felt like a replay of the woods, feeling bad about breaking Satan’s arm.

He smiled at me. “Don’t feel too badly about this,” he ran a finger over the line from his eyebrow to his ear. “If I hadn’t given you so much blood, I wouldn’t have so much as a scar by now.” I stared at him, and he smiled. “I’m a fast healer. You chased the animal because you were in need of nourishment. Your soul took care of your body.”

“
My soul?”

“
The Hotblood soul currently filling your body, yes. It’s an improvement over having no soul but not ideal. Your body wasn’t made to hold that much heat. Since you’re my daughter and Nether, you can adapt and acquire nourishment in other ways, but you may not find that particularly enjoyable.”

“
Oh. What’s Nether?” I rubbed my eyes. I was starting to get a headache. “I had no soul because you said Devlin took it, right?” I hurried on without waiting for his frowning nod. “Why do you talk about temperature? What does that have to do with anything?”

“
We’re called bloods for a reason. Cool bloods have cooler blood, Hollows slightly warmer, Wilds warmer, and Hots, the hottest. Your physical body temperature is higher than mine. Nether is…” he took another drink, and shook his head. “Nether are the ones who blessed,” he smiled slightly at that word like there was something funny about it, “us with our gifts. The story goes something like this. A long time ago there was a beautiful, brilliant woman who gained the love of an immortal Nether and they had four children who are the parents of all the breeds in the world.”

“
Cools, Hots, Wilds, and Hollow,” I said to show I’d been paying attention.

He nodded. “The thing they don’t like to talk about is the fact that there are more than one Nether and they aren’t gone never to return and bother us again. My grandfather is a Nether. He stole away my grandmother, a Cool, and left their child here for her family to raise.” He looked up at me and a slight smile touched his mouth. “You bit Satan.” I stared at him feeling cold. “Netherkind operate on souls and blood. They do that sometimes.”

“
Bite people?”

He laughed. “No, take blood. I don’t imagine Satan tasted very good.”

I gave him a sickly smile. “That’s what Grim said.”

“
The Nether blood in you gives the out-of-control rage of your Hotblood soul a drive to hunt. Other than that, your fury seems not that bad.”

I stared at him, certain I must have misheard. “Not that bad? I broke Satan’s arm. I broke your head open. No, not bad at all.”

He chuckled. Was he enjoying himself? “It makes me think that your Hotblood soul has been burning steady for some time. It should help. I think that if we work to keep up your physical strength and practice different techniques you shouldn’t have out of control furies.”

“
Oh, great.” I ate the bacon. “So, if I get my food in normal ways, I won’t go running off to take down whatever I see?”

“
No, I don’t think you will. So far you’ve been resting, gathering strength with the blood. At first I could barely get enough blood into you, but it’s slowed until now your body doesn’t need it.”

That sounded positive. I looked up at him hopefully. “You don’t think I’m going to do that again, lose it and kill something?”

He frowned. “I think that the fury won’t trigger a need to kill but the Nether blood will. It wasn’t just the flesh and blood that you were after. Some part of you knows the taste of death. You soaked up the death and that is what the Nether blood requires to exist in this world.”

I remembered the smell, the sweetness and the way I’d felt, the rush of it. “I soaked up its death?” I felt stupid repeating him but it was so absurd. Rubbing my temples I sighed, “Why?” A spark exploded in the stove and I jumped.

“
For strength. Your body isn’t built for that soul. To keep it from breaking your body down, we will have to take extra precautions to strengthen you. Otherwise your Nether will take care of it for you.”

“
What about the blood transfusion? That seemed to do big things for me.” I stretched out my leg and saw my calf muscle bunch up.

“
Your body metabolized my blood. I like that. Neat, clean, and it feels so clinical, distanced from the uncontrolled desire. But it’s not death.”

I stared at my hands. They looked stronger; the nails were longer, thicker. My whole body was shifting to take up this monstrous soul and my father’s blood. “No wonder Satan hates Nether. Nether feed on death? How big am I going to get?”

He shrugged. “I think you’re done growing. I’m sorry about the heritage.”

“
Not your fault,” I said numbly. “Do you go around killing things?”

He frowned. “Not at the moment. I haven’t tasted death for a very long time. It wasn’t your mother’s idea to be vegetarian. It was mine. I’m not happy with taking life in order to live.”

“
All right. I’m not either. So why am I eating bacon?”

He shook his head. “You would rather let your Hotblood soul take over again? You aren’t going to be a pacifist any time soon. It must be frustrating to be Cool, Wild, and Hot, all at the same time with all of your tendencies and cravings enhanced.”

“
Frustrating? Yeah, you could say that.” We were both quiet for a long time.

“
Nether have abilities with blood and soul. When you take someone’s blood, you take their strength, their skill as well. That’s why you could overpower Satan after you took his blood. The Nether gave Devlin the ability to take your soul.”

I nodded. I didn’t believe him, well, I didn’t really understand him, but I wasn’t about to argue, not after what happened last time.

My dad made me kill a chicken for lunch, an obnoxious thing that had pecked me enough to draw blood and make me angry so I didn’t have to do it without the fury to help me. It had been bad enough to slit the throat and see the spray of blood in the sunshine, to hear the heart slow and stop, to feel the heat and life drain out of it, into me. It made me sick and I spent lunch, when I should have been eating, in the bathroom instead.

That evening after dinner I did tai chi with my dad, well, I watched him while he moved like the wind and I felt like an idiot. I watched him, trying to understand him. Sometimes he seemed relaxed, but then it would be an intense quiet that seemed the prelude to an explosion. Satan and Grim had been scared of him. No wonder with the way he’d ripped me to pieces with a look. It was hard to believe that I hadn’t imagined it however gentle and mellow he seemed now.

That night as I got ready for bed, I could hear buzzing and chirping outside my window even though it was shut. The lamp by my bed didn’t light up the corners of my room. I was startled by movement until I realized that it was a mirror that had caught my own reflection. Impatient with myself I rolled over onto my face and screwed my eyes tightly closed.

***

I walked over the concrete sidewalk, the warm dark night surrounding me. It was dark between the streetlights, but ahead there was a lit field behind a three-foot fence. It was the ballpark in Sanders. I was disoriented until I realized that this wasn’t really me. I stopped at the edge of the field where high school boys were chasing a soccer ball around. Half the boys were bare-chested.

I squatted on my heels while I watched the game. One player was particularly good. He looked familiar to me. After he made a goal, one of the other players pointed towards me. He ran towards me and as he got close enough, I recognized the face, a handsome, very American looking face with blonde hair that was longer than it had been the last time I had seen him— carrying the coffin at the funeral. He was Devlin’s best friend, the star quarterback and the nicest guy in Sanders. Why was he playing soccer? Did he play soccer and football?

“
Hi, I’m Osmond,” he extended his hand and I stood and gripped it with my own.

“
I’m Lewis. Nice goal. Do you need another player?” It was the same voice as the warm-eyed boy from the tiny bathroom.

Osmond grinned. “Sure. Looks like you ought to be on the other team though.”

I shook my head. “I don’t do skin.”

Osmond shrugged. “I’ll switch then.” Osmond’s shirt was off, tossed in a heap on the sideline, then he walked towards the other guys. “We’ve got a new player, guys. This is Lewis.”

I raised my hand, then focused on the ball. The game was fierce. At first I took it easy and held back, watching the game. Then I moved in and suddenly the ball was in my control. I raced across the field, the ball tightly in front of me. When I poised for the kick that would send the ball into the goal, the ball was gone. I looked up and saw Osmond, dancing away from me with the ball between his feet, grinning. I could feel the responding smile on my face and the game continued. Osmond was really good. I felt my body relaxing as I sped up until it seemed there were only two players on the field. I moved fast, dodging past Osmond getting the ball firmly in front of me with a speed that still barely got the ball past the goalie. A cheer went up and several guys slapped me on my back. Osmond laughed. It took serious character to have no problem being beaten on your own turf.