Demon in the Snow, Heather Fledderus [rainbow fish read aloud .TXT] 📗

1. Hallo

Nate kicked a bit of broken glass out of his way, more because he was bored than that it actually inconvenienced him. The sun was setting, already gone behind most of the abandoned apartment buildings that lined his way home. His backpack was light, easy to carry due to the fact that it only carried his work clothes wrapped in a plastic bag to contain the smell of grease. He had changed back into his school uniform after work, and now was on his way home. Even though it was only six, the sun was virtually gone.

Something skittered across his path. A rat, he thought, dismissing it already. They were the only ones, it seemed, that were brave enough to live in Hell's Alley, or even use it as a short-cut home like he did.

Even the gangs stayed away from this sort of place, and the fact that he used it was reason enough for him to get immunity through almost any other gang territory in the area. Chicago gangs gave credit where it was due.

The notebook he carried in his hand had his name stenciled in curly handwriting: “Nathan Hitagashi”, because Hannah, the only girl in school who talked to him, had decided that his books were boring. If anyone else had suggested it, he would have punched their face in. He didn't care about what anyone thought.

But Hannah was different. She had transferred to their school half-way through February, at the turn of the semester, and had made him her special project, trying to get him more social in class. If any one picked on her, he'd knock them out, no questions asked. He could do it too. He would have tried out for the football team, or even just plain wrestling, if it wasn't for the fact that he had to pay his own way, keeping up rent and all that fun stuff that came with living on your own in a city like Chicago.

He used to play ball, a couple years ago, in another town. But that was before his dad had up and disappeared.

Nathan glanced up, hearing yet another window pane shatter somewhere up ahead. His eyes narrowed as he studied the only light post on the whole block that still worked- someone was standing underneath it, leaning against the pole. Dressed in a trenchcoat, it would have seemed cliché if Nate's instincts weren't screaming at him to run away as fast as he could.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are we going to kill this thing and go home?” a young voice asked from behind him.

Nate whirled around and came face to face with a kid, probably no older than twelve. He glared up at him, and Nate noticed the gun he has in his hand. A revolver, from the sixties.

“You're not making things very interesting you know,” he said, “Aren't you at least going to try to fight back? Where are your buddies? You guys normally travel in packs right? Hey!” He yelled suddenly, “Big scary monsters, come and get me! I'm just a kid, easy pickings.”

“Sora, you talk too much,” Trench Coat scolded. Nate's body twitched at the sudden proximity, even as the guy leaped over his head to land beside the boy in a crouch. “If it has friends, they'll come out when he's dead to avenge him.”

“Their sense of honour is disgusting,” Sora replied.

“Who the hell are you people?”

The two looked up at him, surprised, as if they didn't think he could talk. “It doesn't know...” the boy observed, “Chad, what does that mean?” He turned to the trench coat, obviously Chad.

“Who cares? Honestly, if I have to come down there to kill it myself, hell's going to break loose.” Nate froze at the voice coming from above. He knew that voice. That was the one voice he couldn't forget even if he wanted to.

The girl landed lightly beside the other two, her head down as she focused on keeping her balance. “Seriously,” she complained as she straightened up, pulling out a sword from behind her back, “It's not that hard. You just take your weapon and...” she looked at him, and her voice caught in her throat. “Nate?” she managed at last.

“Hannah!” He was as surprised as her.

“You two know each other?” Chad asked. In response, Hannah simply stared at Nate.

“Are you guys idiots?” He asked, instinct taking over. If anything ever happened to Hannah... “You guys shouldn't be here. This place is crawling with stuff that's just waiting to kill you. Can't you feel it?”

“Strange,” Sora noted in a monotone voice, “It can sense that it's in danger, but doesn't recognize where the threat is. Just what kind of a demon are you?”

“Huh?” Nate had been called a lot of names, it came with being the anti-social guy who had anger management issues. But demon was never for a second on the list. "You little brat." He took a step towards him.

Hannah's sword was suddenly directly in front of him, the tip touching his chest. The blade glowed a vibrant blue. She stared at him, scared, "I don't understand... the Yukicharo said that there was a demon here... but there's only you. What are you?"

"Hannah, it's me Nate from school. Stop messing around."

"Fascinating," Chad said, "I can see the demon energy radiating from you. It's definitely yours, but for some reason, there's none of the usual curling aura that surrounds it. Is is possible? Are you..."

"That's ridiculous, Chad. Those are just legends. There's no such thing as a reformed demon anymore, right Hannah?"

Hannah just kept on staring at him. Slowly, she lowered her sword, turned around and started to walk away. Sora and Chad watched her. Hannah crouched suddenly and launched herself up into the air.

"Does that mean..." Sora started in the ensuing stillness.

"Yes," Chad finished for him. He gave Nate a hard look for a moment, and then crouched and jumped after Hannah. Sora followed. Hell's Alley returned to normal, the sense of imminent danger fading away- as if they had never been there.

 

2. Home Alone 5000 Days

Over a meal of several TV dinners, Nate tried to understand what had just happened.

The kid had kept on referring to him as an “It”. As in “It doesn't know... what does that mean?” Nate's sentiments exactly. What kind of game were those people up to? Was Hannah part of a group of thrill seekers, looking for something that would take them nearer the edge of death than the last trip? Maybe role players? Dressing up and running around the worst part of town as part of some game that they took to the next level? Why the hell drag hi into it?

Hannah had never looked at him with pure revulsion before. Nate knew that nothing in there could hurt him but, for some reason, tonight everything inside of him had screamed for him to run, to get out of there as fast as he could. And when he had tried to warn the others off, they had basically laughed in his face, saying that they had nothing to fear. How could they not have felt that enormous energy seeping through the cracks of the pavement they walked on? Tonight was different from any other night. But the only difference was that they were there. It didn't make any sense.

“Don't think about it too hard,” he muttered to himself as he dumped the trays in the garbage before stumbling across the landing to his bed. “Focus on the stuff that matters. Tomorrow's Friday. Remember to bring the trash down in the morning so that Perkinson doesn't get upset and you don't get stuck with the stench for another week. If anybody asks, Dad came home, and had to leave for a seminar in Atlanta that starts Saturday.”

It was the same sort speech Nate had given himself every night: mental notes, what he needed to remember to do, creative excuses for why it looked like he lived alone. If somebody reported him, he'd get shipped off to another foster family. But so far, the fake ID's his dad had left him had been holding up.

Nate lived alone. Never knew his mom, and his dad disappeared off the face of the earth a couple years ago when they still lived in Connecticut. Life had seemed so much simpler back then.

He lay awake for hours, thinking about the past. When he closed his eyes, he could hear her voice, the voice he imagined was his mother's, what she would sound like. Whenever he had asked his dad about her, he'd get this look in his eye. He'd turn away from Nate and, before stalking out of the room, would tell him to beat the punching bag in the corner to a pulp. Once it was nothing but stuffing he'd tell him everything he wanted to know, he promised.

The night he didn't come home, the night Nate sensed that his dad was never going to come home, you couldn't have told the bag from a mattress found in a junkyard.

3. Growth Spurt

In retrospect, Friday could have been a lot worse.

Hannah didn't come to school. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered Nate at all, but after last night it felt like she had skipped out on purpose.

Some jock ticked him off, so Nate shoved him into a locker. It wasn't too big of a shove, in his opinion, but the idiot broke his arm. When the principal and teachers tried to delve into the mystery of who was behind it, no witnesses stepped forward. They all knew who it was, but without any real proof or people willing to risk their necks to get him in trouble, Nate got off clean.

The locker was in worse shape than the jock, and the owner had to take an empty one in the basement.

Nate started having headaches too. He couldn't focus on a single thing that the teachers were saying. And Hannah wasn't there, so it wasn't like he could copy her notes later.

By lunchtime it was so bad that he just sat in an empty classroom with the lights off and the shades pulled down. The warning bell was like a percussion symphony warming up in his head. In the end, he just walked home, calling in sick at work. Jarvis, his