House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 14

By Dabeagle

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I was sweaty and tired by the time we were ready to leave Nick's place. While Nick had taught me how to make a shield, he then spent plenty of time breaking it on me, showing me how to reform it and to change its shape depending on what you were up against. He spent a lot of time showing me how angling shields in different ways would be useful depending on what situation I was in. While I did that, Ty showed Keats some basic self-defense that I'd learned at the Homestead. The last thing I wanted was Keats fighting, but if it came to that, I wanted to know he could defend himself.

I wiped my forehead with my shirt and shook my head. “Nick. I gotta ask. You mentioned before you try to avoid the Magisterium. How do you do that? I mean with this place and all, they must know about it, right?”

He nodded, and I was glad to see his shirt was soaked through with sweat. “After my trial was over and I'd assumed the mantle of House Frost, we had a visitor from the Magisterium. One of their members – not a particularly important one, but a member regardless – had been the one trying to kill me and take the mantle's power for himself. So they wanted an investigation, as his bonded likely knew of his plans, and of course he was missing.”

“Then what?”

“Well. I told them what happened. His spouse tried to deny it. The Magisterium didn't really have any advantage in picking a side and chose to look the other way on all accounts.” He snorted. “I have no use for them. We do get the odd visitor, since we aren't aligned with any other houses, trying to bring us under their banner as a vassal. We're both too weak to be any real use, and too powerful to be simply taken – or for it to be worthwhile to make the attempt.”

“So...they leave you alone because it's not worth the trouble?”

He nodded. “Exactly. Essentially the costs outweigh the benefits.”

I shifted on my feet. “But your grandmother said something about how your house would grow. Won't that make you a target?”

He shrugged. “A different kind of target, perhaps. It depends on how someone sees me and this house, and I can't always control someone else's point of view.”

I nodded slowly, my thoughts swirling but not really connecting into anything cohesive.

“You did well today. You should come back so we can have you work with Ty to get ready for dealing with the Moodys.”

Finally, something stuck in my head. “Wait. I...I can understand why you'd want the Moodys out of the way, given what I've learned about you. I can understand showing me how to shield, so I'm not a liability. I can even understand cooperating to get control of this Michael situation. But there's one thing in here that doesn't make sense to me.”

“Just one?” Ty asked with a grin. “Nick, Babe, you're losing your edge.”

“Half the confusing situations I end up in are because you are an instigator,” Nick said, pulling Ty close by wrapping an arm around his waist. Smiling he looked to me. “What troubles you?”

I glanced at Keats and tried to block out how hot he looked, even as a hot mess, and back to Nick and Ty. “The interchange. That's not shared with other houses. Right?”

He nodded. “It's fed from many sources, but not constantly like the internet and not in conjunction with other houses like you might with a public library. Houses gather information and compile it through the interchange.”

“So...why share that with me? Why give me access? You didn't have to in order to teach me how to make a shield, and that's all we did in there. But you left the door open for me to come back. To use it again. Why?”

“Wow. You really did slip up, Babe,” Ty said with a bigger smile.

“Hush, you,” Nick said, bumping him with his hip. “Tilman, to be honest, it's because you have so much potential. You've given me a good idea of who you are, and as my grandmother said, my house will not grow through conquest or biology – meaning I will not reproduce nor try to force those weaker than I am to join me.” He pressed his lips together. “I think at some point, though, we should talk about offering to bring you into my house. We could do good things together. You could learn a lot from the interchange without the fear or control of a larger house.” He sighed. “I wasn't going to bring it up now, but...you are perceptive.”

“Join...your house?” Me. Part of a house, but because I wanted to be?

“We should talk about it, but yes. I think there are things we could accomplish. Let's talk when our current troubles are over.”

I nodded slowly, then accepted Nick’s offer of a portal back home, passing through with Keats close by my side. I was so wiped out when we got home, it was all I could do to shower and curl into Keats before falling asleep.

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

Saturday brought a lazy morning with the McKinleys where we played – and lost – at cards with them again. We went for a ride – a cruise, Keats called it – before dropping by the garage. Andrew was in his office doing administrative tasks but was quickly drawn into a chat with Keats over the truck.

“We can weld the cab corners on Monday, get the floor in. Then we can start getting the Bondo and sanding going. I'd like to get it prepped for paint by the end of the week, or as close to it as we can. Leonard's been fucking around with the electric, so it'll probably catch fire the first time we start it up. Next week we got a turd-bird barn find coming in, and I want to get that truck finished up so we can focus on that job.” He leaned back in his chair. “What did you guys get up to yesterday?”

“We went to a...well, a place where it was Spring. Nick taught Til how to make a shield, and Ty was sparring with me, kind of showing me some defensive skills,” Keats replied.

Andrew sucked on his teeth. “That sounds like you're getting ready for a fight.”

Keats sighed. “Til is. I'm...just not happy about it.”

Andrew swiveled his gaze to me. “What's the fight?”

I was a little surprised Keats had said as much as he did, and now Andrew wanted answers. “The Moodys. We're hoping it'll end up solving the Michael problem, too.”

“The Moodys? Jesus! Have you lost your mind? I don't blame Keats for being pissed!”

“I didn't say I was pissed,” Keats replied.

“Well, you don't have to! It's obvious!”

I looked to Keats. “Are you angry with me?”

He sighed. “Not...exactly.”

“Well. What, exactly?”

He ran a hand through his hair. Letting his beanie dangle by his fingertips. “You could get seriously hurt or die. The Moodys are a pretty big problem. It was bad enough with some psycho who wants to burn everything down, but it's like there's a real war getting started.” He pursed his lips. “Nick has a plan, and everyone is just going along with it!” He turned to me. “Was there any point you were going to talk to me about this?”

I was stunned. “Keats...I thought you'd say anything you wanted to when this stuff got brought up. Of course, I'm not...I didn't mean for you to feel-”

“I know that.”

“Then...what? I'm confused. Help me understand,” I pleaded.

“You moron, he's scared!” Andrew barked.

“God damn it, Dad, don't yell at him!”

“Someone's got to!” he snapped. Looking at me, he said, “You're part of a pair now! You can't just go off risking yourself without talking to your other half! It's fucking selfish!”

“DAD!”

“Fine! I'll shut up!” He turned from us, fuming. Keats got up and left the office, and I followed behind him.

“Keats. Keats, please just slow down,” I pleaded.

He came to a stop and hugged himself. “I'll be okay. I know it has to happen. I'm just...so fucking scared.” He shook his head. “I've never been this scared.”

I hugged him from behind, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. “I know. I can feel it, now. I'm sorry. We don't have to do this.”

“Yes. You do,” he said, sounding like he was starting to cry. “It kills me to say it, but you do.” He turned in my arms and looked down into my eyes. “If you don't, who will? Who else gets hurt?” He shook his head. “My dad is wrong; it's me that's being selfish. I just hit the fucking lottery. I just found the one person in my life that so many other poor motherfuckers can only dream about; a connection that runs so deep I can feel you being upset for me. But all I can think about is...losing you. I can't imagine what that's like, not now. Not after what's happened.” He sniffed. “My brain can't handle the back and forth – how fast it's gone and how natural it feels, like we've been a thing for years, and then that it might end. It's all contradictory and huge and...and...I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too, Keats,” I said gently. “Even though I care about other people, you come first. If this is too much, I won't do it.”

He shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “You want to join him. His house. Become stronger, to follow your nature. Is this where all that leads?” He wiped the tear away, and then another. “I'm just a mechanic, Til. I can't throw lightning or whatever. How is this going to work?”

I took a deep breath. “It's going to work one step at a time, and we'll take those steps together. Yes, the idea is...tempting. But nothing is worth trading away you and a life with you. I feel just as strongly about you as you do for me. You know that. But more than knowing, I need you to believe it.”

He wrapped me in his arms and shook. “I'm just scared.”

“I am, too,” I said quietly. “But you also need to understand; to me you're not just a mechanic, and I never want you to be anyone other than who you are.”

He sniffled. I stayed still, letting him feel my love for him until he felt stronger. Until we both felt stronger. Slowly we disentangled and walked slowly down to his preferred work bay. “Looks like I got a package,” he said, his voice ragged. He went to his workbench and opened the box. “Oh. Water pump’s here.” He pulled his phone out and checked the time. “I'd put it in now, but we have Lewis's concert.”

“We can do it tomorrow,” I told him. “You promised to teach me how to do it, anyway.”

He turned and gave me a small smile. “No, I didn't.”

“I'm pretty sure you did,” I told him. “Plus, I want to help you with it anyway.”

He looked down. “You don't have to try to make me feel better.”

“Of course I do. We belong to each other.”

He took a long, deep breath in. “Okay. Okay. You're right. I need to believe in us.” He smiled a little. “I keep looking at you and thinking you can't be real. I must have fallen down and hurt my head, and this is all going on in random firings in my dying brain.”

“You're the hot one.”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “You're the cute one.”

We stayed that way, still finding our way back to something resembling stability. “After the concert, we should talk about what's bothering you. We should talk to Nick, too, to really assess the risks. What you feel is important to me, and I don't want you to think or feel I'm not listening to you.”

He shook his head. “I heard the whole thing. I'm just scared.”

“Then we need to see if something can be done about that.”

He chuckled. “We can go get in that pond of Nick's. Maybe it'll ease my brain.”

“Only if Tess isn't there. She wants to see your cum gutters,” I said with a snicker.

He chuckled. “You didn't actually think that, right? Just made it up to be funny?”

“I swear, I actually thought that. I feel so perverted when you're around, and you know why? It's because you do that thing with your tongue,” I said, teasing.

He chuckled a little harder and pulled me in. We reassured each other we were loved, both physically and through our bond. Then it was time to go to the show.

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

One thing about the bond that is probably underrated that I found to be incredibly comforting is the security it brings. Serenity, I guess. I don't have any doubts with Keats, no surprises, like he doesn't actually love me or things of that nature. That security is kind of a rare thing, because otherwise all you have to go on is your belief and trust in others. When you grow up like I do, your meter for trust can be a little screwed up.

It's not that I didn't meet people I trusted; some caretakers had genuinely cared, I'd felt, but they always left. Kids in the Homestead...well, were kids. Alliances shifted, feelings got hurt and I was no different. I'd done things that upset people, maybe for an imagined advantage, an extra snack or just because kids can be thoughtless little dickbags.

Trust is a funny thing, especially once you've felt the security of bonding. I trusted the McKinleys because they'd earned it, and I found them to be so lovable just for being willing to help because they could. In a way they shared that with Nick, that I could see. Nick was kind of scary because he was so strong, which also made me worry a little about these other houses that thought he wasn't worth the trouble to obtain or whatever. Was it just strength? Was it because they didn't want to waste the energy on the environment his house was built in? Both? Neither?

As much as we may trust people, sometimes that trust gets tested. I'd shown more normals my magic side than I ever had – before coming here I'd never explicitly shown anyone. Sure, I'd casted in school – making a water bottle leak, making someone piss themselves; I'd even caused the cum to shift around in someone's balls before. Of course, I'd also burst the blood vessels in people's noses during fights as well. My point is, they never knew magic was involved.

Now I had a small group that knew my nature. I think Keats was getting more used to the idea, and the McKinleys as well. Andrew...I think the magic was almost secondary to him. His priority was Keats, and in a very real way I was glad he'd yelled at me. I don't like being yelled at any more than anyone else, but for all the times I'd wondered about his relationship with his son, he didn't care if I could yank his brain fluid out of his ear canal; he was sticking up for his son.

Also, presumably, he didn't think I was a psychopath who'd do something so drastic for yelling at me.

I trusted some others, but obviously much less, as I didn't really know them – like Lewis, Sid, Gary, Gomez and Jas. Nick had made a point to say his normal friends – or abnormals as he liked to call them – were very careful about who knew about him or met him. All of that kind of goes to say...I hope I didn't just fuck up.

Keats and I got to the school a little early. We got our tickets and went looking for Lewis, who was posting pre-concert pictures on his social media.

“Boy loves to dress up and show out,” Keats said with a chuckle.

We found Lewis and Sid in a back hallway, posing and taking pictures. Jas was engaged in talking to another girl and I didn't see Gary or Gomez anywhere. Lewis's eyes lit up and his smile ate up his face as he caught sight of us. He strutted toward us, Sid trailing behind him, and did a little spin on his toes to show off his suit.

“'Cha think?” he asked.

Keats whistled.. “If you weren't my cousin....”

They both laughed, and Sid rolled his eyes. Sid was stockier than Lewis, with dark hair and a bright smile. He looked more like an athlete than a dancer – which is to say he made me think of a wrestler or football player; I know dancers are still athletes.

Fist bumps were had and greetings exchanged – and then disaster.

The hallway was filled with people in fancy dress. Sometimes people were turning sideways to slide between others to cross the space. There were rolling clothes racks in a couple of spots and some tables set up with top hats and other embellishments. A girl was moving through the crowd, sideways and leading with her water bottle; a water bottle that had a loose top. Someone turned too fast, laughing about something, and hit the back of the moving girl's elbow. The water bottle was violently jostled and the top spun off and down to the floor somewhere.

The contents of the bottle, a pink liquid, splashed down the front of Lewis's white shirt and into his pants.

“Oh my fucking God!” Lewis gasped. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Oh, shit,” Keats gasped, and the girl was busy being angry for being jostled, for losing her drink and apologizing to Lewis. It was convoluted to say the least.

“I can't go out like this,” Lewis was saying, both upset and sad all in one. Keats looked at me meaningfully and grabbed Lewis' arm.

“Come on. Bathroom, let's get you fixed up. Don't worry,” Keats told Lewis.

“My shirt's ruined,” Lewis protested. Others noticed something going on, and Jas was now with us, along with Sid. We entered the bathroom, Jas not even slowing down, and crowded near the sinks.

“Can you fix this?” Keats asked me.

“Fix it? I'm soaked! My shirt has a huge pink stain and my pants are – my fucking underwear are soaked!” Lewis said, his tone filled with sadness and frustration.

I looked at the people around us and back to Keats. “Are you sure?”

He knew what I meant. “You know you can trust Lewis. He trusts them.”

Lewis had taken his jacket off and Jas was holding it while Lewis looked in the mirror to assess the damage. “I can't go out there like this,” Lewis said, his voice crestfallen. “We've practiced for weeks!”

I sighed, more in commitment than hesitation. “Lewis. Lewis, look at me.”

Slowly, Lewis turned from the mirror. “What, bro? What is it?” he asked dejectedly.

“I can help.” Again, for the sake of theater, but also so Lewis understood the connection, I held a hand up with my fingers splayed out and pulled the fluid from his clothing into a pink hued ball in front of him.

Sid, Jas and Lewis stared. I put the ball in the sink and let it drain away. “If you take the shirt off, I think I can get most of the pink out,” I said quietly. “But you have to hurry. I can't have the whole show choir seeing this.”

Lewis looked at me as if in a daze, but Keats reached out to start undoing buttons. Lewis pulled back and his hands moved as if in a dream, unbuttoning the shirt. “What just happened?”

“That's what I want to know,” Sid said softly.

“What are you?” Jas asked.

“I can explain later,” I said, looking at Lewis. “Right now, do you want to sing and dance or stand here with me?”

He pulled the shirt off and held it out to me. I took the garment and turned on the cold water tap for a moment. For their benefit I held the clean water up in the air while I pumped the hand cleaner plunger for some soap. I made the water dip down and swirl around the soap, making a bubbly mix and then held the shirt out over the sink, pushing the soapy water in and out of the material, pulling more and more pink from it. Fortunately, it didn't seem like it was going to stain, so after a minute of cleaning I pulled the shirt away, drawing the last of the water from it and letting the waste water drain down the sink.

“Here. Good as new.” I held the shirt out to Lewis, and he took it slowly, running his hand over the now dry shirt.

“It's dry. I mean. It's clean. I mean.” He looked at me. “How?”

“Lewis,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “While you look great without a shirt, you have a concert to get to. I can explain after.”

He blinked and Sid pushed his shoulder. “Lew. We gotta go.”

Lewis looked at me for a moment longer and then slipped his shirt on, rapidly buttoning it up. “Um. Thanks,” he said.

“Lewis,” Keats said, grabbing his cousin by his shoulders and giving him a shake. Lewis's gaze pulled away from me and to his cousin. “This is good. Put it out of your head. We came to see you strut your stuff.” He slapped his shoulders. “Get some.”

Lewis seemed to slip back into gear and smiled at Keats. “Hell, yeah. Let's do this!” Lewis tucked his shirt in while Jas held out his jacket. Soon we were back in the hallway, and the group headed for the stage door while Keats and I made our way back to the auditorium doors.

“I hope that was the right move,” I said softly.

“Yeah, I know. Thank you for trusting him, though. Lewis is good people; you know that.”

I nodded as we took our seats. “I do. I just don’t know Jas and Sid very well. Honestly, I haven't spent much time with Lewis, either. He gives me rides to the shop after school and I see him at lunch, but....”

He took my hand. “It's going to be okay.”

I was still nervous but tried to take the advice I'd given to Lewis and set it aside to focus on the show. The lights dimmed and people started to clap. A man walked out to the center of the stage in front of the drawn stage curtain and delivered a welcome message. With a dramatic wave behind him, he moved off stage as the curtain drew back on a darkened stage. Spotlights came up one by one to spin over the frozen dancers. Music started and they leapt into action, dancing and singing as more people flooded onto the stage in the background, adding their voices.

I sat for an hour and a half watching the skill and joyful confidence I'd witnessed from dancing with Lewis's group. They were so good and translated their energy to the crowd. When they were done, I thought I'd smash my hands to pieces clapping for them.

“They are so good!” I exclaimed.

“Right?” Keats agreed.

We exited with the crowd and waited for Lewis to reach out once he was done getting changed. As it happens, he didn't bother, coming to the hallway in front of the auditorium with Jas and Sid in tow.

“Bro,” Keats said, putting his fist out. Lewis tapped his fist and grinned widely. I complimented the group, and for a few moments there was nothing but the post-excitement of a successful show. It wasn't to last, however, as Lewis glanced around and then said, “We should go to Jas's. Talk.”

I glanced at Keats and then replied, “We should go to Keats's house. I have to limit what I do outside of a few places.”

Lewis glanced at Keats and then looked to his friends before nodding. “Okay. Meet you there.”

I was nervous as we went to Keats's house. There was always the possibility of anger or rejection of something they didn't understand. I was seriously questioning if I should have done what I did. Had they known already, sure – no problem. In this case...was it worth it?

“You okay?” Keats asked, putting his hand over mine.

“Just...second guessing myself.”

“Hey. You did the right thing. That show meant the world to Lewis.”

I nodded, though I still felt nerves knotting in my stomach. Once we got to the house, we were assaulted by the twins asking for a magic trick.

I put my hands on my knees. “Okay. I'll make a deal with you. We'll go downstairs and I'll show you a trick, but then you have to go back upstairs because we have to talk.”

“Is it a secret?” one of them asked and the other nodded excitedly.

“Actually,” Keats said. “If you guys get your showers – I mean do it right – I'll order pizza.”

The twins made excited noises and promises to keep the secret, even though there wasn't one. I guess. Oh, I don't know.

“Okay guys. I need one of you to get a plastic cup with water and empty glass – a clear one. Okay?”

I got overlapping of yes and okay as they took off for the kitchen.

“Your mom will be good with pizza?” I asked.

“She'll be glad not to have to cook. Besides, she'll be thrilled the twins took their showers without her having to fight them.”

We went downstairs, quickly followed by the twins. Lewis, Jas and Sid sat down on the couch and the twins put the glass and cup on the little coffee table and then knelt down in front of the table. Keats stood next to me, but I focused on the twins.

“Okay, guys. Ever seen it rain inside?”

The twins eyes got bigger and they shook their heads. I focused on the water in the cup, slowing down the molecules and freezing it, forcing it to pop up over the top of the lip. The twins giggled and gasped. Then I reversed the process and focused the water to transition to steam, guiding it over the glass where I let it start to cool and fall a few drops at a time into the glass. The twins were staring and wiggling, glancing at each other and grinning. Once the steam had all turned back to water, they whined for me to show them again so they could figure out the trick, but Keats told them they'd made a deal. It took a little of Keats telling them they'd lose out on pizza before they went upstairs. Once the door was closed, I turned my attention to Lewis, Jas and Sid.

Lewis wasn't looking at me, though. Instead, he said to Keats, “You knew. This is...I can't even get my head around it.”

“Bro. You understand then why we didn't tell everyone. Not only that...there was some other stuff, too. It wasn't a trust thing with you.”

Lewis shifted his gaze to me. He wasn't hostile, but he wasn't his normal self, either. “So. If this isn't a trick...and I don't know how you'd do it, which doesn't mean it's not a trick...what are you?”

I opened my mouth, but Keats overrode me. “He's a mage, Lew. He's got control of water. He's still also your friend. The one you met by hitting him with your truck. If he was a bad guy, don't you think he'd have done something then?”

Lewis's expression appeared confused. “Like what?”

Quietly Sid said, “Like that the human body is over 60 percent water.”

Lewis turned back to me, eyes growing wider. “So, you...wait.” His jaw worked silently for a moment before he blurted, “Did you make Moody piss his pants?”

I lifted my chin. “I'd do it again, too.”

Jas chimed in, “That's using your power for good.” She took a deep breath. “So...you revealed all this because Lewis needed your help.”

I glanced at Keats and then focused on Lewis. “Yes. But more than that, it was a show of trust.” I paused. “Lewis, you get this look when you dance. When you move your whole body...I think of it as joyful confidence. You're so happy and so sure of yourself. When I saw how upset you were about the idea of missing out...what was I supposed to do? Rip your shirt off and just show up with a clean one?”

He rubbed the side of his face. “I...part of me just can't believe this.” He glanced at Sid. “And saying he could have, I don't know, killed me isn't helping.”

I nodded. “I understand. Every time I have to do this, I have to worry how people will feel. If I scare them. I'm not here to hurt you.”

Lewis looked back at me, but it was Sid that spoke. “Why are you here then?”

Keats took my hand and said, “Because he and I are what you call bonded.”

Jas smiled. “That seems kind of a permanent thing to say.”

“It is,” Keats said firmly. “Lew. Remember when you met Til? How pale his eyes were? Did you notice that's changed?”

All three of them looked at me, and I squirmed a little, at least in my head.

“Yeah....”

“Well, let me explain.”

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