House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 9

By Dabeagle

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“You should feel a bit more in control now,” Nick said. “Eat; you'll need the calories.”

“Fuck then eat pizza. Maybe being gay isn't so bad,” Andrew said with a snort.

“Oh, Andrew, shut the fuck up,” Dorothy said with exasperation. “There never was anything wrong with it, and your middle school humor as you try to wrap your head around the icky gay thing is tiresome. Grow up.”

“Dorothy,” Leonard said, patting her hand. “You know he's d-u-m-b.”

“Okay, ha, ha,” Andrew said and flopped down into his chair. “I still don't understand why we're all hanging out in here so they can go fuck. It's weird.”

Nick started to stand, but Andrew was aggravating me. Again, for the sake of theater, I pointed at his coffee cup, and the black liquid spilled up into the air and formed the words 'fuck you' before flowing back into the cup.

Andrew sat up straight and sort of said “Whatthefuckwasthat?”

“Keats and I are bonded. Nick will explain, but from my perspective, if we didn't fuck, I was going to lose my damn mind,” I said. I scooped up a slice and handed it to Keats before grabbing my own and shoving it in my mouth.

“What...just happened?” Andrew said.

“I can explain,” Nick said, standing in the middle of us, all loosely circling him. “There is an element that is unknown to most of the population. A very small number of people can access and utilize that element to perform what you would call magic.” Nick held a finger up. “Not like the things you may have seen on TV. Or even at a carnival. People who can use that element, called aether, are called Magi. We all have a main focus for our blessing – for instance, mine is healing, and I'm known as a life mage.” He tilted his head toward me. “Tilman is a water mage.” He smiled. “Be glad he chose coffee for his demonstration.”

Nick held his hand up and little dots of light flew up from his hands, swirling slowly over our heads. “With a little practice, Magi can do many forms of general magic, besides their primary blessing.”

Andrew let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Oh yeah? Health? Can you fix my bum knee?”

Nick smiled widely and the little dots of light winked out. “I can.” He moved closer to Andrew, who let out an uncomfortable chuckle. Nick put his hand on Andrew's forearm.

“Hold still for a moment. You have an effusion in your knee – commonly called water on the knee – and it's due to an underlying injury.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Tilman? This synovial fluid isn't needed. Can you drain it?”

Curious, I joined Nick and reached out with my talent, homing in on the excess of fluid surrounding his knee. “I see it. You going to make an opening or do you want me to use his pores?”

“I'll make a minor opening,” Nick said. Turning to Andrew he said, “You're going to feel the pressure and pain in your knee will subside, but I need you to hold still.”

“Uh. Sure. What the hell,” Andrew said.

I sensed that the fluid had a place to flow, and I pulled it up and through Andrew's pant leg. He jerked in surprise, and Nick reminded him to hold still. Ty moved up and touched Nick's hand briefly and I felt the same pressure I'd felt when Nick fixed my shoulder – a sudden feeling like something was pressing on your eardrums, a flow of power rushing past, and then it was gone.

“Okay. Why don't you stand up?” Nick said, stepping back. He glanced back at Ty. “Thank you, my love.”

“Don't be flowery in public,” Ty said, blushing.

Andrew swallowed and said, “You know, maybe I should just...you know, it wasn't that bad.”

Nick grinned at him. “You're healed, Andrew. Please, stand.”

Andrew glanced at Leonard and Dorothy, who urged him to try it. “What the hell,” he said and stood up. His eyes grew wide and he looked down, stomping his foot and then looking back to Nick. “What the hell?”

“What's wrong, Dad?” Keats asked, moving toward his father.

“Wrong? Nothing. I mean, nothing with my knee. It's...what just happened?”

Keats looked at him with mild concern. “You're okay?”

Andrew shook his head. “It doesn't hurt, not even a little.”

“Now that we've established the Magi, we should talk about bonding.”

Keats glanced at me and then back to Nick.

Nick looked at Keats with such empathy it was hard to watch. “I know you're feeling confused. Even after an orgasm, the situation needs explanation. You may want to be closer to Til; you'll feel stronger and safer with him.”

Keats looked at me, back to Nick, and then moved beside me, shoulder touching mine.

Nick nodded. “Bonding is incredibly complex. It takes a tremendous number of things to go right, and it's still not completely understood. What I can tell you is that it happens something like the hand of fate, bringing two people together who are a perfect match. Then the bond takes root and removes many of the early relationship doubts and fears.”

“What, um, what does that mean. Exactly?” Keats asked.

“It means that there is no wondering if the other person is devoted to you. If they love you as much as you do them.”

“Uh, let me jump in here,” Ty said. “Keats was it?”

Keats cleared his throat. “Keaton.”

“You can call him Son,” Andrew said, though his usual teasing tone was subdued.

Ty chuckled. “Keaton. I don't know about you, but I dated a few losers. Guys who gaslight, guys who leave you on read. Guys who say one thing and do something else. Maybe even throw your heart away after you give it to them. Any of that familiar?”

Keaton let out half a chuckle. “Sounds like we dated the same guys.”

“Funny how that happens,” Ty said with a grin. “What the bond does is let you feel the other person. That confidence you feel right now? That Tilman is all in on you in a way you've never felt before? That's the bond. He knows how you feel, too, and because there is no hiding, there's no question. No fear that this isn't real. No reason to hold back, because you found the mythical one. That thing poets say about the one person in the world who is their universe...you found them. And you can feel it.”

Keats swallowed and glanced at me, giving me a nervous smile. “Uh. I mean I do feel....”

I looked into his eyes. “I love you, Keats.”

Keats gasped and his hand moved up to his chest.

“That's right, Keaton,” Nick said. “You can physically feel his emotion for you.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, and Keats pulled me into an embrace. I held him, desperate to let him know I was there for him.

“Well, I have a problem with all this,” Leonard said, standing up. He looked at Andrew. “I don't want to be related to you. You're a dickhead.”

Andrew's eyes went wide, and he looked at Dorothy. “Four.”

Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“See? Dickhead!” Leonard said, pointing at Andrew, lips quivering with humor.

“I can show you,” Andrew said to Dorothy. “But I need the money he pays to store them here. I'll go broke!”

“I knew it!” Dorothy said, slapping Leonard's arm. She looked at Andrew. “Are they all junk?”

“They're classics!” Leonard protested.

“Oh, some of them are just rust and snot,” Andrew said to Dorothy, his tone serious but his grin spreading.

“You mean like your Valiant? No motor, no tranny, no floor?” Keats said, wiping the last wetness from his eyes.

“It can be saved,” Andrew said, sounding offended. “It just needs-”

“To be crushed!” Leonard said with glee.

“Oh, fuck you. Dorothy, let me show you these clunkers of his.” They stood up, bickering playfully, but Andrew stopped in front of us. “Uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Jesus, don't, Dad,” Keats said.

“Now, hang on,” he said quietly. “Son...Keaton, you know I love you more than life. I...hate that you found so many scrubs sniffing after you. I'm...I'm really happy for you.”

Keats swallowed. “Thanks,” he said, his voice breaking.

Andrew nodded, opened his mouth and then just patted us each on the shoulder before going out into the garage with the McKinleys.

Nick took one of Ty's hands and kissed the back before looking to us. “If you have more questions, we'll be here for you. But as long as understanding the bond is...progressing...we should probably talk about your other concerns.”

I was honestly confused. “My concerns?”

“The bonding was the big one, but you mentioned something Moody? And of course there is Michael. Something I hope we can help each other with.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. I mean, I don't know if I'm strong enough to be much help against Michael.”

“Who is Michael?” Keats asked.

I widened my eyes. “He's a fire mage, but there's something wrong with him.”

“More than one thing,” Nick said dourly.

I nodded. “He's crazy but like in a psychotic way. I...well, I used to live in a Homestead. You'd probably call it an orphanage.” I snorted. “We called it the House of the Unwanted.” I shook my head. “Not important. What is important is that Michael showed up, and he wanted to harvest all of us at the Homestead, but he ended up just burning everything.”

“What's harvesting?” Keats asked.

“It's despicable,” I said.

“It is,” Nick agreed. “A mage has the innate ability to manipulate the aether, but that can be stolen in order to make someone else stronger. Harvesting another mage's power kills them.”

Keats was horrified. “You're being chased by a murderer?”

“Well, we don't know about the chasing thing.” I glanced at Nick and Ty. “Do we?”

Nick sighed and put his hands together, his pointer fingers touching at the tip and resting against his chin. “Not in a 'straight-line' sort of way, no.” He shook his head. “If anything besides chance, he may be following the trace of your blessing. Kind of like...smelling something good but not being able to see where it is.”

“So...he's tracking him, but not because it's him?” Keats asked.

Nick nodded and dropped his hands to his sides. “It's a working theory. The idea that he's followed Tilman here by pure chance seems too much to be believed.”

“Wait. Isn't this dangerous?” Keats asked.

Ty shuffled his feet. “Mages are dangerous, Keaton. Most people won't even believe they exist, so when one of them goes off the reservation like this...people get hurt. Michael has to be stopped.”

Keats looked at me with worry etched onto his face. “I...I'm afraid.”

“I will be there with him,” Nick said solemnly. “I will do everything I can to ensure his safety. You have my word.”

“So,” I said quietly. “I guess I owe you. What do I do?”

Nick shook his head and smiled. “It is I who owe you. While Michael is acting on his own, I feel responsible for him and the fear he's brought to your life. What I'd suggest – and what I'll ask of you – is that in between the obscene number of times you'll be having sex in the next few days, I'd like you to try pushing the boundaries of what you thought the limits of your blessing were.”

I glanced at Keats, wondering what counted as 'an obscene number'. “Uh. I mean, practice? Okay. I mean, I should do that anyway.”

Nick nodded. “I think you'll be surprised at how much stronger you are. As your bond deepens, your blessing will mature.”

“Mature? Til?” Keats shot me some side eye.

“I know what you mean. You should hear this one,” Nick said, a little grin on his face and looking at Ty from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, first you have no room to talk,” I said.

“And second,” Ty said, “you are an instigator.”

Nick looked pleased with himself. “What about this Moody issue?”

“Oh. Uh, guy in school. He's attacked me a couple of times; I can handle him.” I glanced at Keats. “But I'm told the whole family is bad news and that they might target people around me.”

Nick frowned, and it looked odd on his face, as he'd been mostly jovial and kind. “Do you have a plan?”

I tightened my jaw. “I figured I'd have to...make a show of force.”

He nodded, expression serious. “When you say attacked....”

“Physically. I'm told he's violent and that an older sibling brought some kind of edged weapon to the school and attacked someone.”

“Listen, the Moodys...they're the original hillbilly type. They do whatever they want and shoot at anyone that gets close. Nobody knows how they don't get caught and put away, but there's plenty of rumors about payoffs and drug money,” Keats said. “They are bad news.”

Nick frowned more deeply and looked to me. “I think we should go with you. If Ty consents, he could boost your show of strength, and I can help keep us safe.”

Keats put his hand on the back of my neck, and I instantly thought about him pushing me down to blow him. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. “Jesus Christ,” I said softly.

“It'll pass,” Ty said, a smile in his voice.

I looked at him. “Is it always this bad? Like...I feel like a walking hormone.”

Ty laughed. “Yeah, I know it was like that for us. Give it a few weeks, and it'll level out.”

“A few weeks?” Keats asked, sounding a little desperate.

“Well. First few days are the worst,” Ty amended.

“Stay hydrated, boys,” Nick said with a grin.

I shook my head. “Wait. So, what's the plan with Michael?”

“Oh! With all your sexual tension, I got distracted and was thinking about getting Ty home,” Nick said with a little laugh. “So, I want to do three things. First, I'm going to get a few of my friends and bring them to town as eyes and ears; I'll introduce you. Then I'll take up a room here as well, to limit travel time and ease communication. Third, I will have us all checking around town and the nearby countryside for any signs of fires that may indicate activity by Michael.”

I nodded. “Okay. It's a start.”

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

After, Nick and Ty portaled out – which is something to see; I was never taught how to do that, but I'd like to learn. Regardless, Keats was kind of wide-eyed at the portal, and I wanted to take a minute to tend to him emotionally.

“Hey. How are you doing with all of this?” I asked, holding his gaze with mine.

He let out a slow breath and chuckled nervously. “Uh. I'm not sure it's all really hit me yet? I mean....magic. I'm, like, married or something? And it's only been a few weeks, and I'm in love with you. I thought I was in love before, but I was so wrong I can't even begin to tell you.”

I tilted my head and smiled at him. “You can tell me you love me anytime you like.”

He nodded and returned my smile. “I'm not sure it's all really hit me yet. Honestly, it's like trying to drink from a fire hose. Maybe some of this is just getting used to it. Some of this...magic stuff, feels like there's a trick somewhere, you know? You see effects in movies and CGI on TV. It almost seems like magic could be technology somehow? You know?”

“Sure. It's not, but I get that as a way to understand. To bridge the gap until you understand more.”

His expression shifted into concern. “Is this...not real, but, permanent? This bond?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

He reached out and put his hand on my neck, pulling me toward him a little. “So...I get to keep you?”

The corner of my mouth pulled up in a suppressed smile. “Other way around. I get to keep you.”

Aaaand then we were kissing. Tension was rising in the room, among other things. “Jesus, Til,” he gasped.

“I know,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Maybe just a quick one? We can fuck on your dad's desk. You think he yelled about the garage? We can get lube on his invoices.”

Keats burst out laughing, loudly, and I started to join him.

“Lube? He should worry more about the fucking fountain of cum you let loose!”

I snorted as I laughed. “Yours was hidden inside me, so let's not pretend you didn't empty your balls.”

He kept laughing, but kissed me lightly and said, “I did. It was fucking awesome too.”

The sexual tension dropped as Andrew stepped back into the office. He paused and looked at us. “No. Uh uh. Not in my office.”

Keats gave me a sly look, and I giggled.

Andrew sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, look.” He pointed at me. “You have to come meet the family. His mom can't know about this...bond...thing. I know for a fact that she wants to see our oldest walk down the aisle with a real ceremony with suits, family and an open bar.” He looked at Keats. “You can't take that from her.”

“Dad,” he said softly. “I'm not...I mean, yeah. I want her to meet Til. We can, you know, do something when it seems like enough time has passed that she won't freak out or something.”

Andrew snorted. “Have you met your mother? You could be sixty and on your fourth marriage and she'd be all 'my baby!' and shit.” He shook his head but returned his gaze to me. “I need to know you, too. Whatever else goes on between me and Son, he knows I'll back him to the hilt. So I'm happy he's happy, but I still don't know you.”

“Okay, Dad,” I said with a little grin.

He leaned his head back and looked at Keats, then back to me. “I'm watching you.”

“Don't watch too close, Dad, or you may get an eye full,” Keats teased.

“I heard enough,” he said, then grinned. “Sounded like you did the family name proud, Son.”

“Okay, I need to find that leak on my car,” Keats said, heading for the door. I fell in behind him and walked back to his car. Given all the craziness, I thought it was probably good for Keats to focus on something else for a minute. The rest would come in time, I guessed.

“So, what's leaking?” I asked

“It's losing coolant somewhere. I've just been topping it up, but there's always a little on the ground after I park it, so I knew it wasn't a head gasket or anything.”

“Cars have heads?”

He chuckled. “Engines do.” We arrived at his car, and he popped the hood; the springs made this weird creaking sound as they relaxed into holding the hood up. He started pointing out engine components as he spoke. “So, this fan here? It cools the fluid in the radiator, which is this thing here in front of it with all the fins. This cover that goes between the fan and the radiator is called a shroud, and it helps make it so the fan isn't wasting most of the air it pushes by it not hitting the radiator.”

“So the shroud directs the flow of air?”

“Right. So right behind the fan is the water pump. So, the coolant goes from this hose here, into the engine and through it to cool it down, and when it gets hot enough the thermostat opens and lets the hot coolant go back to radiator to get cooled down before it loops through again.”

“Oh. Okay. What does that have to do with a head getting blown? Are we talking about you?” I stuck the tip of my tongue out.

He leaned in. “Next time, I'm getting you in a bed. The garage...isn't ideal. And you're loud.”

I tried so hard to be demure. “I can be quiet if my mouth is full. We don't need a bed for that.”

He grabbed my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Not. Here.”

I tried pleading eyes with him.

He kissed me. “Not here.”

I sighed. “Okay. So, where is the head on a motor?”

He watched me for a moment.

“I'll be good,” I said, though I was disappointed.

“Just so you know, I want you. Bad. But doing it here...yeah, of course it feels amazing, and I love it and you. But...everyone can hear. It's not private. We can't just lie together after and start again as soon as we're ready.” He put his hand on the back of my neck again. “I just want it to be...our time.”

I smiled, feeling better. “Okay. But we can still fuck in the car sometimes, right?”

His eyes sparkled. “Just not next time.”

Now I was happy.

“Okay,” he said, giving himself a shake. “This is a V8, which means there are eight cylinders and they are arranged so four go up on the right and four on the left, in a V pattern. This in the middle is the carburetor, which brings in a mix of fuel and air to the cylinders. These two things on either side,” he said, tapping a bulbous piece of metal, “are the valve covers. Underneath each of them is a head. This all rests on top of the lower section, called the block.”

I looked around, registering the names with the parts. “So, if you had a head gasket leak...it's here? Where the head meets the block?”

“Right.”

“Oh. That looks like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, it is. Plus, if coolant is mixed with the oil, the oil isn't doing its job, either. Parts can get damaged and ruin an engine.”

I tilted my head. “You sometimes say motor and sometimes engine. They're the same, right?”

“Yes and no. Technically, a motor is electric and combustion is an engine. But then racetracks call themselves motor speedways and stuff. Some people can get really caught up in the language, and I get it to a point. Words mean things, right? But for the most part you can interchange them.”

“Oh, right. Okay. So we don't want it to leak there, then.”

“Well we don't want it to leak at all, but yeah, definitely not there. Sometimes water can leak past just right and it gets into the cylinders and hydro-locks an engine. Basically, the oil needs to stay in its area, and the water needs to stay in its area.”

“So, what were you going to do?”

“Normally I'd put some dye in the coolant and look around with a black light, but we're out of dye. So I'll get a light down there, start looking around. Maybe put it in the air if I need to.”

I looked down into the engine bay. “I think I can help.” I focused on the liquids nearby, filtering out myself and Keats, and then worked to narrow my focus. Water is everywhere, so you have to learn to identify the type of fluid based on differences like thickness of the fluid, sometimes temperature or if it's up at head-height or down lower in a body. Like fluid in the ear canal has a different feel than brain fluid or spit. Given that I was able to filter out other fluids and find the coolant, a mix of water and whatever chemicals make up anti-freeze.

With Keats's explanation as a guide, I patiently traced the route the coolant would take through the dark tunnels of the engine, following each turn in the water jacket. It was tedious, but also kind of fascinating – like tracing blood through a vein. It was hard to be patient, but after going through it a few times I found a place where it was leaving that closed circuit.

“It's there,” I said. “Here, I'll show you.” I drew the coolant out, making it stand up and move side to side so he could see it.

“Uh. Damn that's...cool,” he said, letting out a breath and smiling. “Okay, so, water pump is leaking. It's a bad seal, because the coolant's coming out around the pulley shaft, versus the sealing surface against the block. Have to call up and see if I can get one.”

He pulled out his phone and called a number. “Hey, I need a water pump for a 292 Ford Y-block. Goes into a '60 Country Squire.”

He waited, glanced at me and ran his finger down my cheek, then drove his finger into my collar, making me squeal and dance away from him. He had a grin on his face as I came back toward him to get revenge.

“Okay. Can you send it to Davidson's when it gets in? Thanks.”

We pushed and shoved a bit, making play threats for a minute. Once we stopped, I leaned back against the bumper. “So, they don't have the part?”

“Nah. It's old, but they can get it. It's not leaking really bad, yet, so I'm not too worried.”

Andrew's voice boomed from the other end of the garage. “Son!”

“Yo!” Keats called back.

“Come on up here a minute.”

“Let's go see what he needs. Maybe you can call him Dad again,” Keats said, snickering.

“He should get used to it, really,” I said with a grin.

We got up front to find the McKinleys gathered by the '64 International. “Son, what's the status here?”

Keats pulled his beanie off and blew a breath up against his hair. “Well, Leonard got cheap-”

“See? Frugal, is what he meant,” Leonard said, pointing to Dorothy.

“Let him talk,” Dorothy said, looking back to Keats.

“Like I said, I thought we were doing a complete restoration, but Leonard seems to be missing his truck.”

“That thing is like a mistress,” Dorothy said, giving Leonard some side eye. “Go on.”

“The bed's going to be ready for paint sometime next week. We're going to lift the cab off next and get the frame down to the paint booth to grind off anything we didn't see already, and then seal it up. It actually looked pretty good, though. Except the cowl.”

“What's a cowl?” I asked.

“The area where the windshield meets the firewall; there's a pinch weld,” Leonard said absently. “These trucks rot there like clockwork.”

“What about the cab corners?”Andrew asked. “I thought they looked questionable.”

Keats resettled his beanie. “They're toast. Once we pulled the cab I was going to talk to you about showing me how to make those. They look like the worst parts, though we may find more once we get the cab sandblasted.”

“Will that go on the rotisserie?” I asked.

“Yeah, makes it easier. I know, you just want to spin it,” Keats teased.

“It looks cool,” I replied.

“Okay, so we get that stripped down after the frame touch ups,” Andrew said.

“Right. You were going to do the wiring, right Leonard?” Keats asked.

“Yeah. Pretty simple, but it'll be simpler with the cab off. Compression was down on the number three, so I was thinking about pulling the head, putting in rings and bearings while it's there.”

“That one only has one head?” I asked. “Keats's has two.”

“Mine's an inline six, his is a V8,” Leonard explained.

Dorothy sighed and looked at Leonard. “Look what you did. He was such a sweet boy, now he's gotten the car bug,” she said and gave me a wry look. “Are you actually having fun?”

I gave her a crooked grin. “Yes. No one ever took the time to teach me, and they love cars here.”

“Yes, they do,” she said fondly. “But love is expensive. Andrew, what's this costing?”

“Oh,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, Leonard, how's that loan application coming?”

“That what?” Dorothy's head whipped to look at Leonard.

“He's lying,” Leonard said with a shake of his head and a laugh.

Dorothy waved a hand. “Well, whatever. When will it be done? That car you're driving certainly smokes a lot.”

“Yeah, it's running rich. Probably need to set the timing,” Leonard said. “Well, cab off this week. Frame hopefully done, bed is about done and ready for paint. The floors were shot, but I'm hoping the cab corners won't be too much work.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said thoughtfully. “Well, it'll take another two, three weeks. Maybe a month if Leonard 'helps'.”

Leonard pointed at Andrew. “Dickhead.”

“Speaking of dicks,” Andrew said, turning toward Keats and I. “You two are expected for family dinner. Your mom found out you're...well, not dating. Fucking for sure, but I guess we'd better say you have a partner or something.”

“Gee,” Keats said sarcastically. “I wonder how mom found out?”

“Beats the shit outta me,” Andrew said, pretending innocence. “But I'd suggest Til goes to get cleaned up. His mother is real big about no greasy hands at the table.”

“She's going to love you,” Keats said.

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