Breathe in the Embers

Part 12

Martin walked home after his typically luxurious shower at the local truck stop. He would have taken the bus, but his allowance was stretched enough as it was just paying for showers! Besides, Lithuega insisted. It was good exercise, no matter how exhausted he was.

It wasn’t just his work out either. Every moment Lithuega shared this plane of existence with him drained his energy. He could feel it leaching out of him, and could see the demon herself get more and more worn out. But being present during his exercise was another thing she insisted on. The drain would make him stronger, like running with weights on, and they needed to become accustomed to that strain should her presence ever be needed alongside his own. She also took those opportunities to easily outpace him, outlift him, or generally show off her physical superiority.

It was quickly becoming old.

To be more accurate, it had always been old, and was growing increasingly so. Weeks of relentless training had already passed, his body strengthening steadily, but Lithuega had the abilities of an olympic athlete just by being a demon. She never seemed to tire, could keep up a much faster pace than Martin without effort, and as she demonstrated before, her strength was that of a man several times her body weight. She didn’t go out of her way to mention the huge gap between the two of them, but she didn’t need to. Martin was well aware of it.

Given his day, on top of weeks of the same, Martin was understandably grumpy as he walked toward the modest one story his parents owned. “Hey Martin! Welcome home kiddo.” Mr. Brown greeted, waving as Martin stepped through the front door. He was doing the dishes in his pajamas, which struck Martin as odd in the middle of the day, until he realized it was the weekend. Sunday. It was so hard to keep track of the days without school.

“Hey Dad. How was church?” Martin asked, dropping the backpack full of sweaty clothes on the floor. He’d taken to doing his own laundry lately, claiming a desire for independence. He wasn’t sure what the knowing looks his parents exchanged meant, but so long as they didn’t guess the truth, he didn’t care.

“Decent. Got a little political though. Not sure if we’ll go next week if the rest of the series is like that.” Mr. Brown replied, Martin wincing in sympathy. Church was one of the few places his parents went where they could avoid politics, and given the cluster politics were right now, it was a direly needed retreat. “We wish you’d come with us, but we know it’s not really your thing. How is your girlfriend?”

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Martin flushed. “Margaret, and she isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just friends.” he replied, irked as ever by the old joke. It was a constant ribbing that grated on him. “She’s fine. We just hung out and played video games.”

“That right? Pity you’re just friends then. Gamer girls aren’t exactly common bud. I got lucky myself.” he gestured at Martin with a ladle, the pink apron with white frills around the edge, making Martin snort and rolls his eyes. It wasn’t even Mrs. Brown’s apron. Mr. Brown had bought it for himself just for the hilarity. “You find one, you marry that girl.”

“I’ll be sure to constantly have a ring in a holster at my hip, just in case.”

“That a boy!” His dad replied with a huge grin, turning back to the dishes. “Go say hi to your Mom. She’s out back in the garage fiddling with her headlights. She’ll know where your phone is too. You need to stop forgetting it here! When Margaret called they were on the phone a bit. Don’t want them plotting anything now do ya?”

Martin’s blood ran cold. He’d known his parents would simply believe him, as Martin never lied about anything. He left his phone at home just in case there was ever a time where it might be tracked. Superheroes had to be careful with their identities after all. It had never occurred to him that one of the friends he was supposedly visiting would call! “Yeah I’ll do that. Don’t want them arranging a marriage behind my back, right?” he joked nervously.

Mr. Brown just laughed.

Martin did indeed find his mom in the garage. He pretended not to hear Mrs. Brown swear as he approached, followed by the bang of a hand on metal. Some of his trepidation faded at the familiar sounds.

“Hey mom.” he greeted, stepping around the corner and through the open garage door. She glanced back, wearing her oil stained jeans and filthy t-shirt reserved for precisely this activity.

“Hey! Good to see ya sweetie.” Mrs. Brown greeted with a grin. “You have to keep better track of your phone, Martin. If another of your lady friends calls I might start asking all kinds of embarrassing questions.”

“Do you and dad coordinate these terrible jokes?”

“No, we just think alike. That’ll happen after twenty five years together.” she replied with a chuckle. “Why, did he say something?”

Relief flooded Martin as he talked. His parents evidently still didn’t suspect a thing, which meant Margaret must have covered for him. There was no way they’d talked without it coming up he was in neither location. So while he would now need to explain things to Margaret, or come up with another inventive excuse, at least his parents weren’t the suspicious ones.