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Kennedy…
Kennedy and Terry’s Mother sat together on the dusty couch, a lit flame in a copper vessel danced merrily in front of them. Nervously, Kennedy asked, “So, are you going to do some kind of incantation?”
“Don’t be stupid. That is for silly sheep.”
“Then why aren’t we leaving?” The sun would go down soon and Kennedy had no desire to be here after dark. Cold sweat was making her shirt stick to her back. She tugged the fabric free and made a face. The dampness irritated her.
His mother’s patience was unnerving. With her elbows resting on her knees, she lit a cigarette. “We are waiting.”
Resisting the urge to reprimand her for smoking, Kennedy said, “For who? The sister?” Folding one hand over the other, the light danced across her skin, and Kennedy noticed for the first time, the very faint scars on her cheeks. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and almost touched the woman before her glare froze her. Kennedy’s fingertips hovered in the air.
Narrowing her gaze, Terry’s mother pushed her hand away. “Don’t touch me. Have you lost every sense you have?” Jaw flexing, she took another pull from her cigarette. “Just be patient. You will know when she is here.”
“How do you know that?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been in this house.” The woman drew back from the flame and the patterns were no longer visible on her face. “Don’t look at me. I hate them.”
Stolen story; please report.
“How did that happen?”
She slanted her gaze in Kennedy’s direction. “Do you think you're the only one whose gifts the mountain had interest in?” She shifted her shoulders. “I was grateful when Terry didn’t show any signs of having the sight.” She picked a bit of ash from her lip. “And as much as I hate the pain he knew, or the resentment he felt, I was grateful for all the years that those people treated him with indifference.” She rested her head back against the wall. “I rejoiced every time they rejected him. Using him only for his talent with animals.”
“And if they had accepted him?”
“He was his father’s son. I would have lost him. Terry would have sunk into their tiny world. The same world his father lived and died in.” She looked her up and down. “I thought about hurting you to bring the sister here.”
Kennedy recoiled.
“Or letting you hurt me.” Her head tilted. “You wanted to when we were in the hall earlier, didn’t you?” Kennedy swallowed nervously as the woman continued. “Rage lives here, just under the skin of the world.” She flicked her finger in the air. “All it takes is a tiny scratch to let it pour in, and it will fill you like an ocean.”
*
Mary Lynn…
“That wouldn’t be smart.” The guardian’s familiar voice came from behind Mary. She swiveled her head and saw him enter the hall, rolling up his cuffs calmly. “Best you boys be on your way.”
The young man chuckled, dismissing the old Bear. “You sure do act tough for a guy with brittle bones. How old are you, anyway? Eighty? You look like my grandpa.”
“But I’m not your grandpa. If I had been, I’d have pruned you off the family tree the moment you rolled free of your whore mother’s body.”
The boy stiffened, surprised. “Fuck you man.”
The shaggy-haired youth said, “How many of your bones am I going to have to break?”
“I’ll give you ten dollars if you break even one.”
*
The Sister…
Floating in the hall, witness to the rescue of this creature, cool unfeeling eyes closed and opened. Her fingers itched. Her last soul had been stolen from her, not even a Shepherd, tempted away by a dance and a whisper. Bitterness filled her mouth, and the hunger welled large. She lingered to watch more death, hoping to taste the lives on her tongue. As the boys crowded around the older man, she almost smiled until she heard the thin irresistible sound of a child crying. This one still lay in the womb, twisting and turning, wanting to change…