House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 2

By Dabeagle

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I hadn't been quite so scared in a while. Sure, I ran on low-level fear all the time – it's what kept me moving. I'm not one of those nomads who move along because they enjoy seeing new places; I'm moving to stay alive. So the idea of being stuck in one place was stressing me out, but I was also concerned about what was wrong with my shoulder. It was stiffening, and any kind of movement was causing plenty of pain.

I decided that the best thing would be to get a diagnosis and then go from there in terms of getting gone. If it was a simple thing, I'd get a splint or arm brace and get down the road. If it was more serious, I'd have to figure something out.

We came to a stop and the back doors were opened. The paramedics got me down and wheeled the gurney into the emergency room. They provided my vital statistics to a nurse as they wheeled me into a room.

“Hello there. I'm nurse Swanson. I'm just going to retake some of these vitals on you. It's your left shoulder that was hurt, is that right, Hon?”

She was on the shorter side, wide in the hips with an easy smile. Honey-colored hair with white mixed in, working as she spoke to get a monitor on a finger and getting ready for an IV line.

“Yes, the left,” I said quietly.

“Honey, I don't know what possessed you to be out on the road – walking no less – in that mess out there, but I'm going to say it wasn't your finest work,” she said with a smile.

“Probably not, but then you've never seen my work,” I replied.

She laughed and asked about any allergies I may have, level of pain and many other questions, including my name, which I reluctantly gave. She flashed a light in my eyes and commented on how pale a color they were, then she started the IV. Another person arrived, a young man with brown skin and a rolling cart, who applied a foot brake and settled a keyboard on the tray top. He introduced himself and said he was there to collect information for my medical record. I'm honestly not sure how long any of this was taking – it seemed like it had been forever since the truck mirror had hit my shoulder and started this mess. I felt a bit more tense when a police officer walked up with Leonard at her side.

“Jesus Christ!” Leonard said. “You look a fright.”

I glanced at the officer and back to him. “Then I look how I feel.”

“Tilman,” the officer spoke. “Can you tell me what you were doing?”

I cleared my throat. “Well.” I glanced at Leonard and back to her. “I was walking to my grandparents'.”

“You picked now? In this weather?”

I hesitated. “My home...burned down. It wasn't planned.”

She frowned. “There may be a missing person's report out there for you then.”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. I don't think anyone knows where the house was. I lost everything, but I had an address and a name so....”

The officer nodded, but her forehead creased. “So, you've been on the road? Trying to find the McKinley's? Honey, did you never think to try and Google them or something?”

I looked away from her. “Momma said not to talk to cops.” It was a patent lie, but one that would make sense to her.

“Okay. But what about trying to Google them?”

I glanced at Leonard again and then down to my hands. “That's how I'd get which roads to walk. I'd just ask someone to put in the address, and I'd remember the route names I'd need to take.”

“Didn't you just get a car ride?” she asked with skepticism.

I shook my head. “Don't ride with strangers.”

She sighed. “Okay, well, I have enough for my report – though you are an interesting one, Tilman.” She turned to Leonard. “Here's my card. There'll be a police report available in twenty-four hours. The driver was insured and out in this kind of weather for the only reason any boy that age is – coming home from his girlfriend's house.” She rolled her eyes and said goodbye and wished me a speedy recovery.

I glanced away from Leonard, feeling guilty at having given his name. “You don't have to stay. I'm sorry for giving them your name.”

“Oh. I don't think I'll toddle off. Seems like someone needs to keep an eye on you.” He shook his head and pulled his hat off, one with ear flaps that trailed down far enough to cover part of his cheeks. He snapped the hat out and put it back on his head. “I can tell you, Dorothy's offended you disliked her food so much as to go out in a storm like that.”

I frowned. “The food was very good.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I'm a little slow right now. Funny.” I shifted and pain lanced out from my shoulder. “Ugh!”

“Going out like you did, that makes it seem like you're a little slow more often that just now,” he said with a little smile. He glanced around and pulled a chair over to sit down, looking toward me. “As for giving them my name, well, probably a combination of not knowing anyone else and needing a bit of a hand. So you made the right call, there.”

Though I was doing all I could to not move, any small adjustment caused my shoulder to go from throbbing to bright, terrible pain. I wondered if it were broken.

“No. Probably dislocated,” Leonard said.

I glanced at him, not having realized I'd spoken.

“We raised six kids. Two played football, and one of those two would look at a gym or a field and something would get injured on him. Once a dislocated shoulder. Hurts a lot, but you'll end up being okay, I figure.”

Well, that was something to hold onto for now, anyway.

A new person walked up, a man with darker brown skin than the man who'd taken my information. “Hello. I'm Dr. Srivastava. I understand you lost a fight with a truck?”

“Sucker punched me,” I replied.

“Yes. Sneaky things, trucks. I'm going to get you to sit up and let me have a look, here.” He placed a hand behind me and helped me forward, but I made some loud noise as the shoulder seemed to be tightening, and every movement caused pain. Nurse Swanson had reappeared and reached into a drawer to remove scissors. She snipped away at my clothing to reveal my arm and shoulder.

“Ah. Yes, that truck fought dirty,” the doctor said, almost to himself. “Okay. We need to make sure this isn't broken before we try putting it back into place. We're going to get an X-ray, and if it's just a dislocation, we'll get it back into place, and you'll feel better. Meantime, we'll get you something for the pain. Sound good?”

“Something for the pain sounds good,” I replied. The nurse helped me lie back, and I gritted my teeth, grunting as I got settled with the pain in my shoulder.

Leonard was looking me over, and I tried to ignore that. If my shoulder didn't hurt so much, I'd have left already. The idea that the cop would check to see if there was a missing person's report made my skin crawl. Ideally there would be nothing to find, but what if that wasn't the case? Hard to believe this all started from trying to steal an anti-fungal cream.

“So. Tilman. I'm pretty sure what you told the cop was at least half bullshit.”

I looked at him and studied his face. He was probably wondering just how far to stick his neck out. It may be one thing to help a strange kid, but another when the law is involved. “Partial truth,” I admitted.

He nodded. We sat in silence for a bit. He may have been waiting me out, to see if I'd tell him what was truth and what was invented or left for others to draw their own conclusions. I was comfortable with silence, however, and recognized its power. Perhaps switching tactics, Leonard leaned back in his chair and regarded me steadily.

“You're too polite to be a bad kid.”

I looked at him steadily, not sure what being polite had to do with me being 'bad'.

“There's all kinds of polite. There's the one you put on when you work with the public, for instance. A retail politeness, if you will. It's part of the service, and you may get in trouble if someone thinks you were rude, so an enforced politeness perhaps.” He paused. “Then there's the stupid type of politeness where people let folks walk all over them. There's a cunning politeness where people are angling into a position to take advantage of someone.” He crossed his arms. “Then there's politeness as a form of respect.”

I smiled just a little at his observations, despite the pain that caused that smile to be fleeting. “I'm a thief. Being polite seems to get you out of more trouble than into, I'd say.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward a bit, straightening his back. “That's an interesting point. But I'd point out that you were walking, when maybe you could have stolen a car or a bike. You weren't stealing beer or something trivial – you were after medicine. Not even drugs like to get high, just something to cure your own ailment.” He smiled a bit. “Sometimes the choices we make reveal who we are.”

I leaned my head back and tried to ignore him and deal with the throbbing pain and to try not to move. He was blessedly silent, but my mind was turning. They'd cut my clothes off – at least the top – and I was somewhat thankful, because there was no way I was going to be able to take them off without blacking out from the pain. However, I only had a few other items in my backpack, and clothes would be an issue I'd need to solve.

“Alright, Honey. We're going to take some pictures now,” Nurse Swanson said, reappearing with another person in scrubs and pushing a machine. “We have a portable X-ray here, so we're going to sit you up and get some images of your shoulder.”

I yelped and then gritted my teeth as she helped me back into a sitting position and couldn't help sucking in my breath as they positioned the machine and my body. The worst was the vest they put over my chest and looped over my other shoulder; I felt like I was trying to balance with the extra weight, and it was pulling on my hurt shoulder via the tendons and muscles. A few minutes later they were done, and we reversed the painful process of taking off the lead vest and getting me back onto the bed.

“Okay, while those go get developed, let's get you some Ibuprofen to start with,” Nurse Swanson said.

“I took some. While I was waiting for the ambulance,” I told her.

“Okay. How much did you take and about how long ago?”

“Six-hundred milligrams. I'm not sure how long it's been; I don't know the time I was hit.”

“Okay. Well, let's get that into your chart, and as soon as we get those images back, we can get you something with more bite to it.” She smiled and headed off, trailing the person who was pushing the x-ray machine.

“So. House fire, huh? Obviously, the part where you were walking to my address is crap.”

I glanced at Leonard and then leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“What are you running from, son?” he asked, sounding like it was more to himself. Regardless I didn't plan to answer. I had to keep a control on the information I let out, because I didn't know what would turn around and bite me. I lay in miserable silence while the sounds of people working at healing or being sick swirled around me. Shoes squeaked on the floor, monitors beeped, and voices too faint to understand excepting an odd word here or there filled the space.

Dr. Srivastava returned with Nurse Swanson, the nurse pushing an odd-looking device. She powered it up, and I realized it displayed the results of the x-ray.

“So, you have a nasty dislocation, my friend.” He pointed to the image. “You may have some torn ligaments inside – it's not something you can tell here – but what we can see on the outside is the swelling and on the image how clearly out of the socket this is. Fortunately there's no break. So we're going to give you something to get you numbed up, and then we're going to pop that back into the socket. Once we do that, you're going to need to not wiggle that arm around much. We'll need you back in a few weeks to get an MRI, and we'll see if the shoulder needs surgery. Meantime, Nurse Swanson will get you the good stuff, and I'll check back to see how that's going.”

He smiled and headed back out into the busy emergency room. Nurse Swanson said she'd be right back, and good to her word, it wasn't more than a few minutes. She popped the plastic tip from a syringe and inserted it into the IV line. “Okay, Sweetheart, I'll check back on you shortly.”

I nodded and lay back, hoping for some relief. My mind wandered, thinking of a guy I'd dated when I'd gone to a public school and wondering what had happened to him. I mean, I didn't like him, so I don't know why I was thinking of him in the first place. A few minutes later, Leonard started up the conversation again.

“So, as your grandfather-”

I waved a hand. “Can't be. Don't know my parents.”

“Oh. Well. I could be, then. After all, I had six kids.”

I smiled and rolled my head side to side, the action feeling oddly entertaining.. “If I'd had family, I wouldn't have been in the house of the unwanted.”

“House of—what the fuck is that?”

My head lolled, feeling heavy and light all in one. I looked at Leonard and said, “When some magus has a half breed, they put us there. Or if they have no family. They say it's kinder than killing us at birth.”

“That's...barbaric.”

I snorted and smiled. “Depends.”

“On what? Life is opportunity; death is just an ending.”

I hummed, vaguely amused at the feeling of my lips vibrating. “Half-breeds aren't always strong enough to defend themselves. Unpredictable. They can be harvested or enslaved, since they have no house to defend them, no head of house to seek retribution.”

“You're stoned.”

I opened my eyes wide and looked at him. “I am!”

He tilted his head, and I thought that was kind of funny. He frowned a bit and continued, “So this house where you lived – kind of like an orphanage?”

I nodded, my head feeling buoyant.

“And this place...burned down?”

I frowned. “Yes. Michael came.”

“Who's this Michael?”

I sighed. “He just...showed up. He said he was the rightful head of House Frost. He'd been injured; couldn't touch the aether. But...if he had a flame, like a lighter, he could manipulate that.” I shuddered. “He wanted to harvest us. He said it could fix him, but he didn't know how. He got angry. He burned things. Everything.”

I closed my eyes and felt overwhelmed with sadness.

The doctor came and poked my shoulder. Apparently satisfied, he made some pushing and prodding motions with his hands flat on me, then the nurse held me on one side as the doctor straightened my arm out and pulled slowly until my shoulder popped back into place with an audible sound that traveled right through my bones. It was an odd feeling. In fact, I felt odd all over. Not bad, really, just...odd. Nurse Swanson went to work, and my arm was bound up close to my chest, a warm outer layer that smelled vaguely like a cologne or aftershave was draped over me, and I shuffled outside – and I don't remember anything else until the next morning.

I woke on a soft bed, and for a moment my brain interpreted this as my bed in the house of the unwanted. I smelled food – cooking food – and my brain started to untangle the mixed messages of soft warmth, food smells and the tenderness in my shoulder. I slowly opened my eyes. I struggled to sit, my shoulder sore and immobile in a sling. I glanced around the room: a low pile tan carpet on the floor. The walls were an off-white with one wall dominated by a sewing machine on a table and boxes.

I shifted and put my feet on the floor and then realized something else was wrong. Where were my clothes? Some of the previous night was just...gone. I remembered the accident, the hospital, the...shit. The police. I remember Leonard. I nodded to myself – I was likely back at the McKinleys'. I had to admit to being confused at my lack of clothes, however. I stood unsteadily and looked around a bit more. I then noticed the chair to the sewing table had a robe draped over it, so I tossed it over my shoulders with my good arm, held the front together and opened the door.

I could hear voices down the hallway and recognized Dorothy and Leonard's voices, but there was a third I was unfamiliar with, I crept down the hallway to hear better.

“Well, she fell out of contact with us years ago,” I heard Dorothy say. “Of all our kids, she was so out of control.”

“I have a feeling she was living off the grid somewhere,” Leonard chimed in. “Tilman said their house was out of the way, so when it burned, they may not have even known people lived there,” he said.

“That's so sad,” the third voice, sounding like a female, said. “Officer Fenton was curious after last night and did some digging. We found some records for Tilman – home schooled for the most part, but there is a social and no parents so far. His parents weren't listed on his birth certificate – just John and Jane Doe. So, it appears, for the moment, you have a long-lost grandson.”

Leonard sighed. “Well, it's unexpected, but it's nice to have part of her come home.”

“I'll work on getting you some school records so you can enroll him, and Officer Fenton said the police report is ready any time you want to stop by the station. You'll want that for the accident, so insurance covers the medical bills. Also, I've sent in these forms electronically, so you should get a copy of his birth certificate, but the social is federal, so you'll need to do that one on your own, unfortunately.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Leonard said.

“I should see if he's awake. I ran out to get him some clothes this morning – the things he had on really weren't worth washing – but he's got no clothes in there.”

I entered the room, clasping the robe with one hand. “I found the robe...Grandma.”

All three people turned from the table to look at me. Dorothy was up first and headed to me. “Oh, Tilman, you poor thing. Let's get you fed and some medicine into you. Then you can clean up and get dressed. Here, let me tie this for you.” She tugged the robe a bit for modesty's sake and tied the belt. Putting an arm around my waist she guided me to the table, and I sat gingerly.

“Hi, Tilman. My name's Adriana Glover. I'm from the department of children and family services. I was following up with your grandparents after the accident last night. How are you feeling this morning?”

I glanced at the McKinleys and back to her. “Sore. A little...confused, I guess. Bit of a headache.”

She smiled. “They gave you quite a pain killer last night, I'll bet, so you may be a little fuzzy for a bit. Your grandparents were just filling me in on your mother – do you know where she is?”

I tried to think for a moment, but I was on the spot. “No. I never met her.”

She adopted a sympathetic expression. “I'm sorry. How did you know where to find your grandparents?”

I thought quickly and headed for an explanation I hoped wouldn't complicate things. “There was a box of stuff I was left with. There was a picture in a frame. I took the picture from the frame and found their names and an address.” I shrugged with my good shoulder. “I had nowhere else to go.”

She nodded, keeping her sympathetic expression in place. “Well, you're safe now, anyway. I'll be available if you need anything, but this seems to have resolved itself.” She stood up, as did the McKinleys. “Take care, Tilman.” She looked to the McKinleys. “And thank you for the coffee. I'll just head out – I have so much to do today; it feels good to get this off my list!”

Leonard walked her to the door while Dorothy filled a plate and brought it to the table.

“Don't get used to being served, now. Just while you're healing,” she said with a little smile.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. I started in on the food while she bustled back to the kitchen and came back with a pill bottle.

“It's just Motrin, but it should take the edge off is what the pharmacist said. Eight hundred milligrams, so they're big enough to choke a horse.” She put one of the pills down beside my plate and pushed a teapot on a trivet closer to me. “Says to take with food, sweetheart.”

I thanked her again and took the pill, washed down with some tea, and cleaned up my plate. Leonard had retaken his seat, and I declined seconds.

“You're a bit thin. Are you sure?” Dorothy asked.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. I looked across at Leonard. “Thank you for helping me, but I should go.”

Leonard crossed his arms and sat back while Dorothy made a noise of protest. “Okay. But I think you should probably fill us in on a few things, for our own safety.”

Dorothy fell silent and the hackles on my neck went up. “What?” I asked cautiously.

He spread his hands wide and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table. “I mean Michael. Magi. Seems to me like you're running from him, but...I have questions.”

Stunned into immobility I whispered, “How do you know any of that?”

He smiled. “Well, you told me.”

I frowned. “No, I didn't.”

He grinned. “My youngest had some stomach problems, and one fine day he had an endoscopy.” He paused. “You know what that is?”

Confused by this change in conversation, I shook my head.

“What they do is they give you a general anesthetic to knock you out, then they put a camera down your throat so they can see all the way down to look for ulcers or what have you.”

“Okay,” I replied uncertainly.

“So, when anesthesia wears off, some people can be a little chatty.” He smiled again, but one I couldn't interpret. “You, my new grandson, were higher than a kite at a Willy Nelson concert.”

I studied his face and then realized my mouth was hanging open, which I quickly shut. I licked my lips. “Well. It was just talk, then.”

He wagged a finger at me. “Nope. Too much emotion in that thing about Michael. But I'll tell you what.” He reached forward and pulled his cup closer, filling it with tea. He sipped once and put the cup back down. “I have a feeling you need an outside perspective on that whole story. Something about it was a bit wrong.”

I cleared my throat and rubbed my hands along the lower part of the robe. I wasn't sure what the point might be, but I also wondered about how someone who hadn't been there might interpret things. I had given much of it little thought, focusing on running. “Well. Michael...he lit a fire. Burned the place down.”

Leonard rolled his hand. “Sure, but before that he claimed he was the rightful head of House...Frost, wasn't it?”

I put my hand on my head and leaned forward, resting on my elbow. “I need to leave.”

“Actually,” Dorothy said, “I'm reasonably confident you're wrong about that.”

I let out a breath. “Thank you both-”

“You keep your skinny butt in that chair for a hot minute,” Leonard said, and I looked up at him. “Now, let me just ask you one question, and let's see where that takes us. Hmm?”

I looked at him steadily, feeling nervous. I didn't want to hurt them, but I was now afraid the longer I was here, the more danger they were in.

“Now that phrase Michael used – rightful heir.” Leonard paused and glanced at Dorothy.

She looked at me and said, “Coupling that with his injury – something about not being able to touch something – that seems like he lost a fight. Doesn't it?”

I glanced between them as I thought. Michael had been raving a bit when he showed up, and it wasn't long after that things got set on fire. I'd avoided thinking about him other than trying to figure out how to avoid him. But now...well. I'm not sure what more harm I can do here, so perhaps I should follow this thread of logic.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “That does sound like he'd lost a fight. He was...” I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling to gather myself. Looking back to them I said, “He was raving. Angry, then threatening. He spoke about being cut off from the aether, but he had a solution.” I shook my head. “It was almost like he was talking to himself.”

“Okay,” Leonard said with a slow nod. “Now, you'll recall yesterday I told you that you looked like a boy who was running from something. Seems it's someone. I'm guessing you're about to come out of your skin because of the police involvement, afraid this Michael will find you.”

I swallowed and nodded. Leonard was pretty good at deduction, it seemed.

He smiled. “I don't think he's looking for you.”

That brought me to a complete stop, like I'd been flash frozen. Not looking for me? “What...makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “Well, way I see it, whatever a house is has resources. If he showed up broken and angry, seems like he lost and isn't the head of this House Frost...so he has no resources to pursue anyone. He showed up and tried to do whatever he was thinking of at your place – who knows how he found that – but it was more or less random, I think.”

I looked out the window and thought about that for a moment. I had to admit, some of it fit. Michael's connection to the aether was faint at best, completely out of whack with the amount of power he'd wielded when he had an open flame to work with. That level of control over a single discipline usually meant it was practically the only thing you were any good at.

“What do you think, Tilman?” Dorothy asked.

I swallowed. “You could be right.”

The McKinleys leaned in a bit, not crowding, but still getting a bit closer. Leonard said, “Now, let's assume we're right. If we do that, let's start at the beginning and work through this and see where we end up. What do you think?”

Could they be right? I wondered. I hadn't ever stopped to think Michael wasn't pursuing me; after all, he'd wanted to harvest us. But if I'd been so wrong in my thinking...maybe an outside perspective could help. As it was, they knew more than they should – but I wasn't a mind mage, so that was done anyway.

I cleared my throat. “What do you want to know?”

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