Chapter 7

The Acceptance of Inevitability

I DIDN’T GET A PERFECT night sleep. It wasn’t because I had found my family and had a comfortable bed to lie in that I was automatically going to start sleeping in. My head was throbbing and my knee was still sore. I kept waking up every half hour and when the sun slowly started to rise, I just couldn’t take it.

      I sat up in the bed, looking around myself. There had been no waking up moment where I had believe all of the news I had gotten yesterday was just a dream. Yesterday. My entire life completely shattered in the course of one day. I had gained a family—a messed up one that was—but at the same time I had gain a few things I wasn’t exactly prepared for—like being a mystical creature and all.

      Getting up, I trailed my feet lazily to the bathroom and checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, but at least it was clean. It felt lighter somehow.

      Running my hand through my hair, almost compulsively, I went back to the actual room, and looked out the windows. I had a clear view of the lake in front from up here.

      I had never swum in a lake. I had never swum, period, actually. None of my foster home had pools or found trivial to bring me to a place where I could swim. Closest I had come to swimming was probably taking a bath, and even that I could count on my hands—quick showers, that’s all I could get. For some reason, completely unknown to me, I had this urge to go by the lake. I still loathed trees, but the water seemed to be calling to me, somehow. It looked soothing. And I really wanted to go to it.

      Quietly, I slipped out of my room and into the empty corridor. I kind of felt like all the poor broads in movies that went into a place they weren’t suppose to go, even though I hadn’t been told I wasn’t suppose to walk around the house without an escort. I hadn’t been given any rules actually. For all I knew, I could actually grab a few things from the house and leave this place. It was a little bit tempting.

      When I reached the front door, I slipped in my shoes and quietly snuck out. I hoped Matvei wouldn’t go looking for me in my room and think I had changed my mind when I hadn’t. Well, it wasn’t like I couldn’t be found and they couldn’t see the lake from their huge-ass house.

      Gravel crunched under my feet as I made my way to the deck by the lake. The day was already warm, and the place, uncannily quiet. Growing up in Detroit, I was used to cars driving by, factories working, neighbors screaming at each other, heck even gun shots. But silence—well that was unsettling.

      I sat at the end of the deck, tempted to put my feet in the water. I decided against it though. Maybe there were killer fishes in there. Instead, I just leaned my head back, hand pressed slightly behind me, and let the sun soak it. It would do some good to my skin. I sighed. The quiet was definitely unsettling. I didn’t know if I could get used to that. Gazing around, I tried not to glare at the trees. They looked like they were about to come closer.

      Sighing again, I felt the deck slightly move and turned my head to see none other than stick-up-my-ass Hugo, making his way towards me. I tried not glaring, because I wasn’t in an awful mood—yet. He stopped a couple of feet from me. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked quietly. What the hell was he doing here?

      The answer was automatic as I smiled sweetly at him. “I hope you died well and I hope you died clean.”

      He didn’t respond the way I had guess though. There was recognition in his feature, and his facial expression almost changed. “Are you really quoting The Green Fields of France?”

      “Are you ruining my witty come back?”

      “Sorry,” he didn’t look completely sorry. If I had known any better I would have said he actually looked slightly amused and maybe even impress that I knew what The Green Fields of France was. I was kind of impress he knew it.

      Hugo sat down beside me, though letting a good three feet of distance between our bodies—good idea. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He seemed absolutely exhausted. “Couldn’t sleep?”

      “I keep getting visions and flashes,” he admitted, running his hand through his hair. It seemed almost painful for him to confess.

      “And I’m partly responsible for that?”

     “Oh, you’re entirely responsible for it,” he replied. I didn’t know if he was serious of joking so I couldn’t help it, I flipped him off. He snorted. It wasn’t a laugh but I guessed it would be as close as one as I could get from the dude. “I guess I should tell you I’m sorry for reacting the way I did and for blaming you for being here before your time. Obviously it’s not your fault, so I had no right to burst at you like I did.”

      Unsure if I should be taking this as an apology, or as an awful way to state that you needed to apologize without actually, you know, apologizing, I just shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m used to be on the receiving end of anger fits.” And it was fine. I didn’t exactly care about what the dude thought about me. And for all I knew, he wasn’t even a dude—he was just a shape shifting thousand year old transsexual with a lot of anger issues. Speaking of which… “What are you exactly?”

      He took a few slow breaths before answering me. You’d think I was shoving bamboos splinters under his nails or something. If he didn’t want to tell me, he could just flip me off. Finally, his gaze met mine. “You of all people should know. We’re a pretty big urban legend back in your hometown.”

      Woah, back up your horses. How did he know about my hometown? Had he talked with Matvei or just smelled industrial wasteland on me? I asked, just to make sure he wasn’t wrong. “Detroit?” He nodded his head. Well what do you know? He kept looking my way though and I realized he wanted me to guess. What was wrong with that dude? What did he want me to answer? The mythical equivalence of an asshole? “I honestly don’t know… the crocodile down the sewers?”

      The corner of his mouth slightly twitched. It was miles away form a smile but it was better than nothing. “That’s more of a New York myth though, isn’t it?” I nodded, conceiting. “I’m part Nain Rouge…” My face must have shown my confusion because he clarified. “A harbinger of doom.”

      Well, doesn’t that make me feel all warm and fuzzy? Not! “Woah…” was all I said though. Because technically Nain Rouge, harbinger of doom, none of these terms rang any bell. There weren’t any YA novels about them, so I was kind of lost. Though, well, maybe the old crazy lady, back in my apartment block in Detroit, had talked about something that might have phonetically sounded like that. It hadn’t exactly stuck with me.

      “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” he asked, the corner of his mouth, twitching just a little bit higher again.

      “No, not really,” I admitted. “The doom part was kind of a dead give away of the “HIDE YOUR WIFE AND CHILD!” kind though, if that can make you feel better.”

      He snorted softly again. “No, not really. I’m around when shit hits the fan. Is that a more suited answer for you?”

      I laughed. “Maybe.”

      Taking another settling breath, he turned his head, looking ahead, at the lake. There was something oddly beautiful about the way the rising sun hit his face and shone throw his hair, with the green forest and the glistering lake in back ground. He looked like he actually belonged here. “I can see it. I see visions of bad things happening. At first, Nain Rouge saw visions of bad things and went to the place to try and prevent the events from happening but it never worked. So that’s how we became a sign that something terrible is about to happen. We can’t change things, we can only stand there and see it unfold.”

      And somehow, I was enlightened about the reason why he had a stick up his ass. “Wow, okay that sucks.” He shrugged, his eyes now intently fixing the deck we were sitting on, trailing his thumb in the creases of the wood. “So, you’re from Detroit too,” I inquired, trying to change the subject.

    His palms were pressed flat against the deck now. He smiled faintly. “No, I’m from France actually.”

      Suddenly, I was imagining him with a very thin mustache, a black and white stripped shirt and a baguette under his arm. The mental image was disturbingly funny. “Seriously?”

      “Yes. My full name is Hugo Dubois.” He said his name with a French accent, or well, in French, I guess. It was kind of weird. But nice at the same time.

      “I seriously couldn’t tell, you don’t have an accent,” I admitted because it was the truth. He spoke like an everyday American.

      “I do when I’m really tired, or pissed off.”

      “You seemed pissed off enough earlier,” I mumbled, and looked at him sideways—yeah he had totally caught that, but for some reason it just made him smile faintly.

      “Anyway, is there really a doom dude in Detroit or it’s just an urban legend?”

      Again, that tiny smile. “My brother actually lives in Detroit.”

      I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

      “Yes, he’s been there… for a while.” I didn’t exactly like the sound of that.

      I scratched the top of my head, stretching my legs forward so that they hang at the edge of the deck, over the water. “How old is he?”

      “Old.”

      In another situation I would have said “And again” and rolled my hands to show him to develop and not just answer with one god damn word, but I guessed this wasn’t a subject he wanted to dwell on and I couldn’t blame him. And I wasn’t exactly sure what was politically correct to ask mystical creatures either. “How old are you?”

      “How old do I look?” Answering a question with another question—how freaking original!

      I narrowed my eyes. “Is this a trick question?”

      He laughed. “No. And I’m eighteen.” Thank god. I wouldn’t have enjoyed another thousand-something creature to live in the same house as me.

      “You ever go there? To Detroit I mean.”

      He thought about it for a second. “Last time I went to see my brother must have been less than a year ago. I try to see him at least every year.” So that meant he had been in the same city as me probably every year. And I had never seen him. For some weird reason it made me feel kind of closer to my family to think that one of the person staying with them had been where I lived often.

      “Is he nice?”

      Hugo shrugged. “As nice as a brother is, I guess.” Aw, brotherly love.

      As long as he was kind of answering my question I decided to push my luck a little. “And, what about your parents? Are they both…” What was the name again? “Nun Rouge?”

      “Nain Rouge. And no, my father is one. My mother is a batibat.”

      Okay, I’m officially lost. What the deuce? Couldn’t he give me simple answer like werewolf, vampire, witch and all the shebang? “A what?”

      His tongue swiped over his bottom lips, his top lips pressing on it after, while he tried to hold a smile—I could bet on it. “It’s okay if you don’t know that one. Batibats are talked about in Ilocano folklore. The Ilocano is a group of people from Philippines.” He explained, because yeah, I was kind of confused.

      “And what do they do exactly?”

      “Hmm…” His nose scrunched a little. It was cute. I wondered if he was uncomfortable to answer because his mom was some kind of cannibal sex maniac. “They… they’re very fond of their trees. If you cut their tree or disturb it in any way, they’ll kill you in your sleep by suffocation.” Well that wasn’t so bad. And it explained a lot.

      “Why, isn’t that lovely,” I commented. “So that’s why you love trees so much?”

      He shrugged. He did that a lot. “I guess.”

      “Well,” I pushed my hair out of my face, “not to offend you, but I don’t like trees. They kind of give me the heebie-jeebies actually.” Crazy person talking, table for one, thanks!

      “That’s because you don’t understand them,” Hugo answered, all omnisciently. Crazy person talking, table for TWO, thanks!

      “Understand them? Wow.” I laughed. Not too much though, to not offend him. He was kind of being nice after all. “Anyway, which one is your tree so I know which one not to disturb?” I frowned. “Wait? Do you have the genes? I mean, which gene is more dominant in you?”

      He ran his hand over his head quickly. “I have skills from both actually. And I haven’t picked my tree yet, so you’re fine…” he looked at me sideways with a little smile. “For now.”

      I chocked on air, laughing and snorting at the same time. “Did you just try to make a joke?”

      His shoulder slightly shook with contained laughter. “Maybe.”

      I looked at him then, really looked at him. He had taper cut light brown hair—getting longer as it went higher on his head. His facial features were fairly symmetrical. The skin was a little taut on his cheeks, so it gave him kind of a strong defined jaw. His skin was flawless and his eyes a greyish blue. He was tall too, I had seen that yesterday—it was actually a common feature among most of the people living in this house. It was nice to not be the tallest person around for once. He was sitting Indian style, his hand pressed in front of him, his back hunched forward a little and because of that his muscles on his back were kind of taut—his gray shirt was just tight enough to show it. And there was something… almost innocent about him—when he had his mouth shut and wasn’t scowling at everything murderously that was—that kind of gave me the urge to hug him and stroke his hair and tell him everything would be alright. And he was kind of hot—okay definitely hot.

      And I should stop staring at him like a moron. “So, in your… vision I came to town,” I asked him quietly.

      He sighed. I think he hadn’t noticed I had been staring at him. “Yes.”

      I hoped I wasn’t pressing my luck here, but I wanted, needed more answers. “And you didn’t know I was Matvei’s daughter?”

      Hugo sighed, pressing his fists against the deck. “No.”

      “Then why did I come to town then? If not to meet my dad? Did you know why or is that something you can’t see or however that works,” I trailed because well, I didn’t exactly know how all of that worked. For all I knew he was just bullshitting me.

      “See.” He just said “They are visions and yes that is something I could see but it’s not important anymore,” he trailed.

      I turned to him and held his gaze. “It is to me.”

      He slightly shifted, looking elsewhere. “It’s not important.”

      “Yes it is!” I wanted to pull me hair, and stand up and maybe stomp my foot a little. “It is because it concerns me!”

      “No it’s not,” he shouted back, his hard getting hard. “It’s not a future that is plausible anymore, so it is completely irrelevant!”

      “But I want to know!” I all but whined. “What kind of doomed events did my coming here brought? What’s so awful about me coming here that you have to see it?”

      That shut him up for a second. When he spoke again, it was in a quieter tone. “Look, if deep down it feels right for you to be here, then you shouldn’t listen to any of us. There’s nothing awful about you. Circumstances can be appalling sometimes at first, but that doesn’t always mean that the final outcome is horrendous.” Oh yeah, because that totally makes sense!

      “You suck, you know that!” I refrained myself from pouting. “But because I’m a good person I won’t throw a tantrum, or throw you in the lake.”

      He snorted softly. “It’s better this way, trust me.”

      “Yeah, whatever,” I groaned. “At least the monsters aren’t out to get me.”

      Hugo looked at me like I was crazy—erm crazier than I already was. “What?”

      I played with the hem of my shirt. “That’s something I used to say when I was young whenever things were getting very awful.”

      “Why,” he asked, frowning.

      “Oh” I shrugged. “I kept imagining monsters coming out of my closet or from under my bed or from dark alleys chasing me, grabbing me or attacking me. I had a wild imagination.”

      “So, you’re mental issues date from before you came here? Meaning, the whole dropping the berserker bomb on you isn’t to blame?”

      I made a fake-shock face. “Hugo Dubois, are you trying to be funny again, or you’re just trying to insult me?”

      This time he actually laughed. I don’t know if it was because of the way I tried to pronounce his name in French, or because I was actually funny—all I knew is I liked the sound.

      We didn’t get to talk more though, because I felt footsteps on the deck and we both turned our head to see Pavel walking our way, a smile on his face. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I realized he was talking to me. He wasn’t scowling me or anything though. He just seemed obviously curious.

      “Couldn’t sleep,” I simply replied. Hugo got up on his feet. I took it as my cue and did too.

      “Do you want to come running,” Pavel asked as he gazed towards the trees. And I realized both he and Hugo were wearing shorts and running shoes. Obviously, this was some sort of routine.

      But that wasn’t the point at the moment. “In the woods?”

      Pavel kept his smile. “Yes. Cross country running.”

      Running in the woods? Don’t think so. “Huh, no thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

      “Not a fan of running?”

      “Not a fan of trees,” I quickly shot back. Hugo was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing—I was sure of it.

      “Boy will you fit right in here,” Pavel chuckled—I’m pretty sure he was being sarcastic though.

      Both boys then said a quick bye and ran away, while I stayed there and looked at Hugo’s ass for a little bit. Yep, definitely hot, now if he could always keep that invisible stick out of it…

      With a sigh, I headed back towards the house, but before I could even reach it, a young girl with strawberry blond hair, Marina, my cousin, was closing the front door behind her, and going down the stairs.

      The minute she saw me, a smile spread on her lips and she walked straight up to me. “Hey, we never got to really introduce ourselves. I’m Marina, but everyone calls me Marisha here, though it’s annoying,” she rambled and made a face. I thought it was kind of cute.

      “What do you want me to call you?”

      She made a move with her hand, like she didn’t care, rolling her eyes. “Mary’s fine. So, how do you like it here so far?” I made a face. She chuckled. “I mean, aside form my psychotic mother. Don’t take it the wrong way I love her, but she as a hard time switching from badass evil hunter to motherly human being.”

      “The side of my head felt that,” I complied and pointed to it.

      Marina didn’t seem too preoccupied by it though. “If you’re anything like the rest of the family, you should heal fast.”

      I frowned. “Berserker perk?”

      She nodded. “Yep!”

      Silence was about to set in, so I kind of had to ask. “So, what are you doing?”

      “I’m going to feed the dogs.”

      I was expecting something so much more mystical… like I’m about to go chase for a virgin for our morning ritual. “You have dogs?” Ooh, maybe they’d use the dogs for those morning rituals!

      “Yeah, we have five huskies.” She seemed excited to talk about them. Obviously she liked the dogs. “A mother and her four cubs, though there not so much cubs anymore as death machines.” I laughed. She was amusing, and sweet—kind of like her brother. It was a mystery how their mother could have given birth to such decent human beings. “Do you want to come?”

      I shrugged. “What else could I do?”

      If it was possible, her grin grew wider. She had mentioned something about finally another girl yesterday. The only other females in the house were her bitchy grandma and her psycho mother. It was easy to guess she wanted feminine company that wouldn’t rip her head off. The only girl in a house full of boys couldn’t be the dream of her lifetime—not when they were related to you, I mean. “Alright, come on.”

      And so, I followed her, her contagious smile spreading on my lips with one single thought in my head. “Maybe I’m actually going to fit in here, after all.”