Friends With The Monsters - Albany Walker Page 0,33
set of three nines.
“What about your discard?” I pipe up. I can’t believe he’s about to beat me again.
He laughs and waves his hand in my direction for me to go. I still have three cards in my hand, and I have to pick up another. The chance of me going out before him is nil. “Damn it, Uncle,” I curse and drop a discard. I wasn’t able to unload any of my cards.
Uncle ends up winning two rounds later, and he gathers his winnings of marbles and pockets them as usual.
“Will you at least tell me where Redmon went and how long she’ll be gone?” I know he’s leaving soon. He usually just sticks around for a game of cards, and then he’s on his way to haunt parks and children’s yards.
Instead of answering, Uncle lays his hand on my shoulder. He’s a good two feet taller than I am. So, I crane my neck to look up at him.
“Ugh, why don’t you guys just tell me? What’s the big secret? Nobody tells me anything.” I toss my hands in the air in frustration.
“We have rules, child.” I look over my shoulder to see Theius crouched near the door to the kitchen. He rises to his full height of maybe three and a half feet, and shakes out his shaggy, grayish fur.
Uncle gives my shoulder a squeeze before he walks into the shadows, disappearing from view. I don’t even really know how half of them get here, or why they come to me. Are they truly drawn to my power? I’ve been wondering about exactly that since Gunnar mentioned it at the club.
“Hey, Theius,” I greet, heaving a sigh of relief. With the right bribe, I can get Theius to give me some answers.
I make my way to the kitchen with Theius close on my heels. He’s one of the few baddies to visit me who’s told me some of his tale. I drag out the stool from under the island so he can climb up. His claw-tipped fingers scrape the wooden seat, but I don’t mind. It blends in with all the other scrapes and scratches from over the years.
“What’ll it be tonight, Theius?” I open the fridge and peer in. I know he doesn’t care for ice cream, or anything cold really. His legend says he was in a hunting party that got lost in a winter storm and he resorted to cannibalism to survive.
I don’t know if it actually happened or if that’s just the story told to frighten people, but I do know he’s always hungry, achingly so. And I know what it feels like to suffer with that hollow feeling. “Only what you can spare, child,” he replies, with a small drip of saliva already glinting off his gray lip.
“You can have it all, Theius.” I wave my hand around the kitchen, hating that even after he eats, he’ll still experience the same emptiness.
“May I have some bread?” He looks up at me with his dark, owlish eyes.
It takes everything inside me not to wrap my arms around him in a hug, but he would hate the pity.
“One loaf, coming up.” I force some cheeriness into my tone. When I reach the pantry, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, grounding myself. I know there’s nothing I can really do for him but offer what I have and hope one day he will find something that will sustain him the way sins nourish me.
I untwist the tie keeping the bread closed, and grab a plate from the cupboard, placing several slices on the dish before scooting it in front of Theius. Then I grab the large jar of peanut butter from the shelf and slide it over to him as well.
Theius’s claws gouge into the soft bread as he carefully brings it up to his lips. “Thank you, child.” He slowly savors the first bite.
I fold my elbows on the counter and lean forward, watching him closely. “Do you know much about witches, Theius?”
He pauses, making a hissing sound. “Nasty creatures. Don’t go messing with that lot, Dami,” Theius warns, before gathering another bite to eat.
“What makes them bad?” I round the island and take the stool next him, settling in to get comfortable.
“How they get the power. Witches aren’t born with any magic. They have to take it from other beings, creatures like me and the one you call Uncle.”
“How do they do that?” I nearly whisper. I don’t think I