House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 7

By Dabeagle

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Jas's house was a little crazy. She brought me downstairs, and there were a few people I recognized – Lewis, of course, but also Gomez, Gary and Sid. There were at least three people I didn't know, but I was swept up into the group like I'd always been there. Shoes were off at the door, a snack table with drinks was set up in the basement, and Sid was playing pool against someone I didn't know. Music was being played, but Lewis and a few other people were huddled up, talking animatedly.

“I'm glad you could come and hang out,” Jas said. “Oh, did you put contacts in? Your eyes look darker today.”

“Uh, no. Must be the light or something.” That's odd, I thought. Hadn't Keats said something similar?

“Does it make it harder for you to see or anything? Your eyes are so unusual,” she asked, smiling and pulling me over to the snack table. “There's a mini-fridge under the table if you want something cold or need ice for a cup.”

“Oh, thanks, yeah. Uh, no, I can see fine. Kind of weird though – I think Keats said my eyes looked a little different the other day.”

“Do they change color? I've never heard of that before,” she asked, looping her arm through mine and pulling me over to Lewis and his group.

“A little, actually,” I said. It was probably more that our eyes were so pale before bonding that they might appear different due to lighting or clothes we were wearing in much the same way people fought over what color a dress was on the internet. That must be it.

“Bro!” Lewis said and held his fist out. We bumped, and I nodded in greeting to the group, missing the names as Lewis said them. Besides, I was much more focused on what he said next. “Been waiting on you so we can do this. Okay. Come here, so I can show you the moves.”

“Wait, what?” I asked in confusion. He put his hand on my good shoulder and pulled me a bit toward a section of the room that was more open.

“Okay, so it goes like this. You turn ninety degrees left with your feet like wide, then you pump your arms without moving your feet, right? Two pumps each side, then you flip around and face right and two more pumps each side.”

“What...are you doing?” I asked. “And I can't move one arm.”

“Showing you the moves. Didn't Jas tell you? We're recording us dancing,” he said with a grin. “Do your best.”

I blinked and then let out a little smile, knowing I was caught. “I feel tricked.”

“Okay, so left, feet spread, two pumps each arm, jump so you face right, and two pumps each arm. Then you face front and cross your right foot over your left and turn to face the back, then reverse to face the front.” Lewis demonstrated, stringing the moves together. “Then we turn right – don't forget we're all in time doing this – and you punch down with both hands like you're hitting Moody on his knees, right? Bam, bam!”

“Lewis,” I said with a little laugh. “I can’t punch with both hands. You hit me with your truck, remember?”

“Just move the one and shift your shoulders – it's about keeping time,” he said, grinning and unconcerned. “Then we left hand at the top of the head and wave it away, then right hand and the same. Then upper body right and push down with both hands – you know what I mean – twice. Then we put the right hand in the air and flick it from the wrist twice while you jump a little at the same time. Then we take our hands – again just stick with me here – and put them one over the other climbing up one, two, three, four. Right? Almost done!” He grinned and patted my good shoulder. “Turn right, cross your arms – uh, arm – then face front, cross your, uh, arm, and bob your head like a hard nod twice. Shift your left heel out so your toes are on the ground, then same on the right – we do that twice. Right hand up and hard wave, back to front. Then we finish with a turn to the left and a double pump. Ready?”

I laughed. “I can't remember all that!”

“Just get next to me and we'll work on it.” He glanced past me. “Don't watch Marcus though – he has no rhythm.”

“Bitch, what?” Marcus was about my height, black, with twists in his hair and a cheese doodle in his hand. “We breaking in a newbie? Oh, shit, you're the guy Lewis hit? Bro, mad respect for not just killing Lewis when you met him. I want to drown him like twice a day,” he said with a big grin.

“Come on. Get on one side so he can copy both of us. Let's get this!”

Those dance boys worked me. There were so many steps and gestures to get right, but the more we did it, the more it started to flow. Eventually they made a bit more room and added in the music we were dancing to as the rest of the group got together and spread out in a 'V' shape and ran through it a few times. I'll be the first to admit I was the least graceful person there, but it was damn fun. The music had a good beat, and although I was probably off here and there, I got the major moves down – though I probably looked silly with my arm bundled to my chest.

As we moved through the routine again, sweating and smiling, I was struck by two things. The first was how dancing transformed Lewis. He was good looking, and he had a great personality, but as he danced, his face took on expressions, and his body executed movements that may or may not be technically perfect, but the combination gave him an aura of joyful confidence. The second was that a few of the people were singing along with whatever the song was, and like so many things, they put me in mind of Keats.

Don't you want me like I want you, Baby?

Don't you need me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight go crazy

“Okay, okay, we're ready! Everyone get your phones set up!” Marcus said, placing his own phone on a desktop stand. Others quickly found a place for their phones, and then we were in our places and Jas started the music, hopping into her spot – and we danced.

And I smiled. Oh man, did I. When the music ended there was a couple shouts of excitement and a comparison to see who got the best angle, and then they uploaded it.

Lewis walked up to me with a grin. “Okay, so, little late in the season, but practices are every night at four. We get together to get homework done so no one fails out of show choir because of the academic policy.”

I laughed at him. “Whoa, slow down!”

“Nah, for real. You move better than Lewis.” Marcus leaned in. “Talk less, too.”

“Nice, bro, nice,” Lewis replied, laughing at Marcus as they leaned in against each other's shoulders and laughed a little.

“I saw you having fun,” Jas teased. “The whole internet did, too.”

“Oh. That reminds me – I got a phone,” I said, pulling it out.

“Oh, let me put some numbers in there,” Jas said, holding her hand out. I handed it over, and she sat down with her phone and started adding things to mine.

“Battle has started,” Lewis said with a grin.

“What do you mean?”

“Keaton's had a good head start, trying to turn you into a car guy, but now it's my turn. You can dance – and I said you could! Didn't I? Didn't I?”

I smiled and glanced away from him, feeling some heat rush into my cheeks. “Uh. Keats is gonna win, whatever it is. Sorry, not sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he said with a chuckle and shaking his head. “You can do both, bro. Trust me!”

“Don't trust him,” Sid said, stepping near us with a drink in hand. “If it weren't for him, me, Gomez and Gary would never be in show choir. He's like one of those big dogs with a human leg in its mouth.”

I stared at him. “That's...disturbing.”

“No idea, bro,” Sid replied. “Hey, uh, been hearing things though. Moody got suspended, but he's spreading the word he's coming for you.”

I nodded. “I half expected it. He's not smart.”

“You might not be the smart one,” Sid said with a shake of his head. “He'll jump you when you're not looking, and his brother used a knife in school a few years ago. He probably won't be empty handed. He's gotten it into his head that you showed him up twice.”

“Well,” Lewis said with a grin. “Moody got so upset he pissed himself the first time.” His expression sobered. “I'd like to have your back on this, Til. He's mean – his whole family is – and we're mostly just song and dance kids, you know?”

I smiled at him. “How about you run him over for me?”

“Bro!” he burst out laughing.

I let the smile slip from my face. “I hear you, Lewis. Moody's not your problem.”

“Nah, don't think like that,” Marcus said. “What Lewis means is, if one of us steps to Moody, he'll pick us off one at a time. He might not be smart, but he's not entirely stupid, either.”

I nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”

In truth it was sounding more and more like I'd need to do something about Moody sooner rather than later. If he was suspended for a week, that bought me a little time to heal, but in truth my shoulder wasn't feeling that great. If there were torn ligaments or something, there may be a surgery in my future. I couldn't afford to let Moody fester, so I'd have to do something I don't really like to do.

I was going to have to whip a little magic on him.

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

The next week was calm, at least at school. Well actually, only in terms of Moody. Lewis wasn't subtle about suggesting I join show choir, but I wasn't sure I wanted to do that. It was one thing to do what we did in a small group of friends – or friendly people – but another to do it in front of an audience for a score against other people. I liked the energy and the vibe of the whole thing, but I wasn't sold on the competition side of things.

My afternoons were spent at the garage, though I wasn't getting the amount of Keats's time I wanted. As it happens, once you take the paint and loose rust from something like a truck bed, there is a lot of manual labor to smooth old panels, cut out areas revealed to be rotten, and weld new pieces in. Once those pieces were in, there was a lot of grinding to smooth those out – a ton of hours. So while Keats wasn't ignoring me, his time was taken up by Andrew and Leonard teaching him and working with him. I wasn't all that useful with just one hand, but that entire week was all about sanding and such. I got to watch, though if I were going to learn to weld, having my other hand would be useful.

Watching Keats was nice, but the canvas work pants hid too much. Way too much.

That wasn't to say I didn't catch Keats looking sometimes. Little smiles. Of course, I responded maturely and mimed sucking a dick, which made him laugh and blush all in one. Every day I was near him I just wanted to be a little closer for a little longer. I think he was feeling something similar, but something was holding him back. Maybe he still thought I was just trying to hook up and move on? I didn't want to tell him I wasn't trying to do that, because if he wasn't thinking that, he would be then. Of course we'd only met a few weeks ago, really. I'm not into all this waiting to see about things; if they feel right, you go with it.

Keats felt amazingly right, though I was at a loss to say why. I had a confidence in my feelings for him that was completely unjustified. Part of me didn't care, and another part just wanted him to make a move, to make it okay.

Friday afternoon I was thinking about not seeing Keats for two days and then remembered I had a phone. I could probably get his number from Lewis, but...I wanted him to give it to me. I mean his phone number.

Okay, that too.

“I'm hungry. Ready to go home?” Leonard asked.

“Um. One second. I need to ask Keats something.”

“I'll just bet you do,” Leonard said with a smile. “I'll go piss off Andrew. Find me in the office.”

I walked toward the back bays where Keaton would work on his car if it were inside, but his car wasn't there. I checked the booth where we'd stripped the truck bed, but didn't find him. I decided to go see if his car was still there, though we usually said good night to each other. I poked my head out of the side door and looked for his car. I saw a guy leaning against his car, while Keats stood a few feet from him with his arms crossed.

I did not like the vibe I was getting, so I let the door close on its own behind me, walking toward them. The door made enough noise that they both glanced my way. The other guy ignored me, but Keats seemed to sigh and look back.

“I'm just saying we were good together, and yeah. I had to do some growing up. Maybe I wasn't ready for everything – a road trip for the summer.”

“All of a sudden you are?”

The guy sighed. “I'm just saying I could have handled it better. Talked to you.” He took a step toward Keats, moving away from the car. He suddenly seemed to notice I was getting close, and he frowned as I closed the distance. He was a bit more muscular than Keats, with reddish-brown hair and freckles dancing across his nose and upper cheeks. His pale blue eyes narrowed a bit as I drew up next to Keats, and though he was attractive, I knew he was a rival.

“You okay?” I asked Keats.

“This is private,” the other guy said, an edge to his tone. Yes, I knew that was probably the case, and I was probably being rude. “I'm talking to my boyfriend.”

My heart felt like someone had punched it.

“Slow your roll,” Keats said.

I turned my gaze to Keats. “I'd like a say in that.”

Keats frowned. “You know what? So would I. I got this.”

In my head I went back and forth. If I walk away, am I signaling I won't fight for him? Or was it more important that Keats be the one to make his own choice, that fighting for him was some kind of illusion – at least in this moment? That felt right to me.

“Okay, Keats,” I said quietly, glanced at this new guy and turned around. It was the longest walk I'd ever taken in my life to get back inside. That Jello feeling in my chest was back and really shaking, shivering and fuck me. Once inside I turned back toward the door and then spun away, pulling my hand into a fist. I took a few deep breaths. I heard voices rise outside, and still I waited. It was so tough, though. So tough I was shaking.

“Oh, there he is.” I looked up as Andrew and Leonard were walking toward me. “You find Son?”

I swallowed, though there was nothing in my mouth. “Yeah. He's by his car.”

Andrew nodded, and his eyes narrowed. “Someone yelling out there?” Without waiting for an answer Andrew was out the side door, and then his own roar drowned everything else out.

Leonard made for the door, and I called out to him to stop. He paused and looked back at me with irritation on his face. “What? Why? What's going on?”

I let out a shuddering breath. “Keaton's...ex, I'm guessing, is out there. He was trying to get back together, I think. Keats said he had it. If you go out there, I'll have to follow you, and it's going to look like I went and told his dad. Running like a little bitch who couldn't take it when he was told to let someone handle their own business.”

Leonard straightened up a bit. “Yeah, okay. I guess I see your point. You, uh, sure Keats is safe though?”

I stared at Leonard. “If that guy lays a single finger on him....”

Leonard took a half step back before steadying himself. “Okay. Put the safety back on. I'm sure Andrew has blown the whole thing up by now, anyway. If anything, the ex has more to worry about right now than Keats. At least physically.”

I heard a car door close, and then a car pulled down the side street, tires chirping. Moments later Keats came back inside, followed by Andrew.

“I'm sorry, but he's an asshole!” Andrew said.

“I know, Dad! I know he's an asshole, but I was handling it!” Keats sighed and pulled his beanie off before walking deeper into the garage.

Andrew walked over to us and cleared his throat. “I hated that guy he dated. Totally wrong for him. You can't see those things when you're in it, sometimes.”

“This the one that broke up with him around graduation?” Leonard asked.

“The same. Fucker didn't have the balls to tell Keats he didn't want to do a summer road trip with tons of together time. I mean, you really get to know someone on a car trip like that.” He shook his head. “That one just wanted a beach and loud music.” Andrew looked up at the rafters. “Keats would have driven him to the fucking ocean.” His gaze slowly moved down to me. “He likes you, way more than he does me. Go check on him would you?”

I glanced at Leonard. “I'm still hungry, so don't be long,” he said. I nodded and struck off after Keats. The building was long, with work bays between pillars to either side. Bays toward the front had hydraulic lifts, but the ones toward the back had projects on hold, storage – sometimes both – or in the case of Keats's preferred workstation, a floor jack and jack stands.

He wasn't in his bay, but I heard some shuffling a little farther down and I went to investigate. There was an old panel van parked nose out; its side had the logo of the garage. The layer of dust suggested it hadn't moved in a while. A hollow bang echoed from the back end of the van, so I walked down the side and peered around the corner. Keats had taken his beanie off and was crushing it in his hand, his lips pressed together.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. My chest was quivering, and my heart still felt sore from that guy calling Keats his boyfriend. I had no right to these feelings, but I had to try and set them aside for the moment.

He looked up at me, his head tilted to one side, hair covering one side of his face and his full lips slowly relaxing. “I can make my own decisions,” he said quietly.

I finished rounding the corner of the van, whose rear doors were removed, and nodded. “I know, Keats. I walked away when you said to. I just...wanted to make sure you knew I was there. That I-”

He crossed the space between us in two long strides, grabbed me by the hips and lifted, pushing and swinging me to land on the open back deck of the van. While I was startled, I was also excited, because that wasn't an angry act; I was rewarded when he grabbed my face and gave me the most proper fucking kiss. No more Jello quivers, no more heart hurting. In fact, my heart was beating like a rabbit running through a field chased by a pack of werewolves.

Keats leaned in and I rolled backward, and he followed.

“Ow,” I grunted as my shoulder twinged.

“Oh, shit, sor-”

“Don't stop,” I said, pulling him closer.

“But your shoulder-”

“Doesn't matter, Keats,” I said breathlessly and pulled him to me. He got the message and lay atop me, kissing me like I might vanish if he stopped. It was so real. He was balancing himself, though, to not put stress on my folded arm, so I pushed and followed him, so I was lying on him, and I took my turn being aggressive with his lips. He was made to be kissed, and he was so good at it. He reached behind me, grabbing my butt and pulling us tighter together. “Is there something we can use for lube?”

His lips moved into a smile, and he pulled back. “Whoa, slow down, Til.”

“But, Keats,” I whined as I ground into him. “We're way back here, no one will hear us!”

He grinned. “You think they're not going to just walk down here? And we're going to be busy and not get caught? Really?”

“I...but, Keats,” I said softly.

He pulled me down for another kiss and held my face. “I told him no, by the way.”

I paused for a moment, my mind trying to catch up, and then I looked at him in shock. “Wait. You say that now? When I'm trying to get you naked?”

He chuckled and squeezed my butt. “We're not fucking in this van.”

“Why not? It's flat,” I said, trying to get my breathing to go back to something closer to normal.

He giggled, and I whined at him, though I was smiling as well. He ran his thumb across my cheek as he had before, when Moody had punched me. “You should be thanking him, you know.”

“I should? Why?”

“Gave me this push I needed, I guess. I mean...you're way too slick. You've been here three weeks, and you're all up in my life. My cousin thinks you're great – though he likes almost everyone.” He chuckled and shook his head, “You're just everywhere all of a sudden.”

I looked at him seriously. “I was going to wait to ask you out until my arm healed, so I could get both arms around you.”

He laughed and put a hand over his face. “You never stop!”

“You boys back here? I'm damn hungry, Tilman!” Leonard called out, and I could hear his boots on the concrete floor.

“See? I'd a had you naked, and we'd have been interrupted,” Keats said with a smug grin. That grin made my heart do a double thump.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked him.

“I'll be here. Have to track down a coolant leak on my car.”

“You two fucking back here or something?” Leonard called out. “I don't want to get too close if you are!”

He squeezed my butt again. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. If Leonard doesn't bring me, will you pick me up?”

He gave me a sly grin. “You're just trying to get in the back of my wagon.”

“Here's hoping,” I said with a big grin.

“Tilman, damn it! My stomach's turning on me.”

“Coming!” I yelled, then lowered my voice. “Not the way I want.” Then I laid a proper kiss on him, just in case. In case of what? I have no idea. It just sounded good in my head. My lips on his banished the wobbly feelings inside me from the last two weeks, and my heart felt steady and strong, almost as if beating with added strength.

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

There are some mind mages that have the talent – or can develop it – to dreamwalk. It's probably what you might imagine; being able to go into someone else's dream while they sleep. Thing is I'm not really sure how good an idea that is. When I do dream, they seem really fluid and mostly insubstantial. I don't put any value to the idea of dreams acting like premonitions or anything – partly because I'm not a mind mage – but also because at a certain point you have to figure something is just hokey shit.

So when I fell asleep that night and dreamed of Keaton, of that smile and those lips...it seemed like things would go pretty nicely for me. That was until it all felt like slow motion. I'd lean in, maybe for a hug or a kiss, and he'd be just out of reach, just a bit farther than I'd thought. It was a little maddening, but also exciting – right until the fire started.

When Michael had lost his mind at the Homestead – though it's probably an open question how much of his mind he really had control over – it was scary. Scariest thing I can think of. I wanted to be like a superhero and douse the whole thing, but it was like a living thing for one, and for two I'm just not that strong. The farther away things are, the less I can affect them; I couldn't even get close enough to the fire without starting to cook.

So when I reached for Keaton and he burst into flames, when his face was running like melting wax, I woke up with a scream caught in my throat. I was sweating, and my head was pounding, and I couldn't shake the image in my mind. On top of that I couldn't help but start to wonder – was this some kind of prophecy? Was me staying here bringing this fate to him, or would it happen no matter what I did at this point? I got up and got a drink of water and used the bathroom. I laid down and thought I'd never sleep again. Eventually I managed to get back to sleep, but I didn't feel rested when I woke in the morning.

I was having breakfast with the McKinley's when Leonard commented about a fire on the news. I turned my head quickly and asked, “What fire? Where?”

He looked at me with some surprise, but then I think he understood what I may be thinking – Michael.

“It was an old warehouse on the end of town. Been abandoned for a while. Cops say it looked accidental. Might have been someone trying to stay warm and it just got out of hand.”

I looked down at my food and thought for a moment. “I think we should go look.”

Dorothy put her cup down. “What makes you say that?”

I pressed my lips together for a moment. “Michael...there's something magically wrong with him.” I looked up, gaze going from one to the other. “What we were taught is that most mages have one thing they are strong in, and can learn a bunch of other, smaller things – to a point. But sometimes there's mages that are, like, on steroids for one thing, but can't do anything else. I can't explain it – Michael pumped out so much fire from a lighter that I'd swear he was one of those steroid types, but he couldn't start the flame himself. It...doesn't make sense.”

“Okay,” Leonard said quietly. “Do you think there is something at the warehouse that would tell you if it was him or not? Some sign it burned hotter than it should or something?”

I shook my head. “I don't know the difference in how a regular fire would look compared to him, once they are over. What I'd be looking for is if there's any evidence magic was involved.”

Dorothy hummed a moment. “Well, it seems far-fetched, but then there's a boy at my table that can make my Earl Grey bloom like an English rose, so it seems like a small thing to do for security's sake.”

I nodded and decided not to mention the dream I'd had.

After breakfast was cleared, I climbed into the back of the sedan, and all three of us headed toward the site of the fire. Leonard was going to the shop later in the day, but for now he wanted to keep us all together.

I hadn't seen much of the town when I'd arrived, and just a bit more of it between the house, the school and the garage. I was a little surprised with how big it turned out to be, once we'd crested a hill and I could look down in the small valley the town was nestled into. I hadn't paid much attention while going to school, but given I was looking everywhere at once, I guess the thought occurred to me. As we made our way through the surface streets, the neighborhoods became seedier and eventually gave way to buildings with a more industrialized appearance.

A fire truck was still parked out on the street, so Dorothy pulled over, and we got out to walk to the sidewalk across the street, as close as we could reasonably be without drawing attention.

“So, what now?” Leonard asked.

“I just need to focus for a second.” I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to center myself, but I didn't need to do more than that before the scent of fire magic filled my nose. I snapped my eyes open, and fear gripped every nerve ending I had. “Oh no. This is bad.”

“What's wrong?” Dorothy asked quietly. Before I could form the words to reply to her, I felt a strange pressure against my system, like a bubble of magic formed nearby and popped. Looking around I spotted two people I'd swear weren't there a moment ago who suddenly were just there. One leaned over to spit up a little. The other one said something to him, and the first stuck his tongue out. The one who spit up looked around. His attention seemed to focus on me, then they were headed our way.

“Get in the car,” I said quietly.

Of course, they didn't, and now it was too late. The two people were stepping up onto the curb. One was in shorts and a hoodie and the other in torn jeans and a sweatshirt – but the important thing was they had matching blue eyes.

“Hello,” the one in jeans said, with a cautious smile. “I couldn't help but notice you; I wonder if you could help us. This is my bonded, Ty, and I'm Nick Frost.”

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