Blood Ties by Kevin Emerson

teeth. “We’re glad to have Dean along.” She returned most of her attention to her earring.
    Tammy looked like she might be sick, but she managed to rub Dean’s matted hair with a shaking hand. “Have a good trip, Dean.”
    â€œThanks, Mom. See ya.” Dean stepped in and closed the door, then turned to Oliver. “Shall I take your bag upstairs, master?”
    Oliver almost smiled, but then played along. “Oh, yeah, right. Please do.”
    He followed Dean upstairs, past the kitchen and into the abandoned house that concealed their underground home. Dean placed Oliver’s suitcase with the other bags near the front door, by the fake hole in the floor.
    â€œI’m really glad you’re coming along,” Oliver said. “My family’s going to make me insane, and not in the good way.”
    â€œThings haven’t gotten any better with them,” Dean observed.
    â€œWorse,” Oliver replied. “Come on, I’ll tell you on the roof.” Oliver crossed the decrepit room, passing the bathtub full of putrid water. He stepped through a large gap in the wall that looked as if it had been gnawed away by an enormous creature, exposing the rotting, splintered beams. On the other side was a sopping couch, a moldy rug, and a crumbling stone fireplace.
    Oliver ducked into the fireplace and stood in the narrow space. He put his hands on the walls for guidance, felt for the forces, and began to rise up the chimney. He had just started learning to levitate at the end of the school year, but he could only do it in tight spaces like this where you only had to control the forces in a small area. Real levitation in open air would still take a while.
    He rose up into the evening and pulled himself out of the chimney, then hopped onto the sagging roof and sat atop the loose shingles. Dean clambered up moments later. It was close to ten and the sun had just set beyond the Olympic Mountains. A brushstroke of pink tinged the snowcapped peaks and the edges of the wispy clouds. Below, the vibrant green was draining out of the neighborhood as shadows spread and porch lights clicked on. Oliver saw the flicker of the first bat among the branches of a tall cedar tree beside the house. It dove down into the swarm of insects around a brightening streetlight, feasting.
    â€œListen…” Oliver began once Dean was seated beside him. He recounted the conversation he’d overheard between his parents and Tyrus.
    â€œUm, that’s not good,” said Dean. “So you’re saying … you think that because you’ve had the problems sleeping, and at school, and now hanging out with Emalie, that your parents and Half-Light think you can’t fulfill the prophecy?”
    â€œThat’s what it sounded like. Like I’m screwed up, broken … whatever.”
    Oliver hoped that Dean would tell him that it sounded ridiculous, but instead he nodded. “That’s possible, I guess. So what do we do?”
    Oliver threw up his hands. “I don’t know! What can we do? Go on vacation, wait around until my dad comes after me with this Stiletto thing.…”
    â€œWell, should we run away or something? We could take off—”
    â€œAnd go where?” Oliver shook his head. The thought had crossed his mind, but it didn’t make sense. What would they do once they’d run? And how far could they get?
    â€œThis may sound crazy,” Dean continued, picking at a loose piece of green skin on his arm, “but did you ever think of asking them what’s going on?”
    Oliver just shrugged. The thought made him feel ill. “Why? If that really was their plan, they wouldn’t tell me, would they?”
    â€œGuess not.”
    â€œAnd we have to help Emalie find this Selene person.”
    â€œThat will be hard if you’re turned to dust.”
    â€œYeah, well…” Oliver didn’t know what else to say.