Had the demon hurt him? ‘Then I went downstairs,’ continued Bill, oblivious to Jack’s concern. ‘Grandma had flour up to her elbows, beating out pastry for a pie. Wolf was busy sniffing Grandpa’s muddy shoes.’ Bill’s eyes widened with excitement. ‘That’s when I felt it.’
‘Felt what?’ asked Jack, his unease a palpable knot in his throat.
‘It’s hard to explain, my head began to buzz; and then I heard a snap in my ear.’
Jack gripped Bill by the shoulder. ‘What snap?’ The Demon must have hurt him, though he saw no outward sign.
‘I don’t know,’ said Bill, ‘just a snap. Spotting Wolf I knew I could make him do things.’
‘What do you mean, make him do things?’
‘Things,’ said Bill, waving his arms. ‘I called Wolf to me. That old dog won’t come on command, not even to Grandpa, so I almost cried when he came over. My grandparents only noticed when I had Wolf stand on his hind legs. You should’ve seen ol’ Wolf standing like a man.’ He laughed. ‘Grandpa saw him first, dropping his half-filled pipe amongst his tobacco. Grandma turned around to tell him off for messing up the table top when she saw me shaking Wolf’s front paw. Grandpa shot up from the table to shake my hand. If not for Grandma, Wolf would still be walking on his hind legs. She was concerned with his age.’
Yang, having taken the shape of Grandpa Poulis, clapped Bill’s back, knocking off the blue cap that had sat askance on his head.
Too often, Bill, without a Talent, had felt an outsider, but now that Bill had found his, Jack became disquieted. He tried to force a smile, only for his lips to quiver, betraying his uncertainty.
Bill, having spotted Miss Mistletoe’s cat, Gesma, scratching the white fence bordering the garden, failed to notice Jack’s reaction. Settling down with his back to Jack, Bill beckoned the black feline away from her rubbing post. Any other day the cat would have given Bill a long disdainful stare and then shot up a tree. This time when Bill hooked his finger, she came running, her tail straight up in the air. With a pounce, the cat sprang onto the offered arm and coiled herself around his shoulders. Peering behind Bill, she blinked at Jack.
Turning, Bill smiled. ‘What should I make her do? Something special, I want to test myself.’
Troubled by the morning’s turn of events, Jack could think of nothing. Who commanded the animal, his friend, or the demon? Preoccupied by the conundrum he absently watched Bill direct the cat from his shoulder.
‘There’s one more thing,’ said Bill closing his eyes.
‘What are you doing?’
‘When I close my eyes and concentrate I can see through the eyes of the animal.’
‘What do you see?’ asked Jack, intrigued despite his foreboding.
‘Everything that we can,’ answered Bill, ‘only in black and white.’
The long grass rose to Gesma’s face, her emerald eyes rapt on Bill. Twisting her lithe body, the cat flipped backward, clearing the grass to land on her feet in one smooth motion. Bill clapped his hands in delight. Without pause, she jumped from left to right. When Gesma performed her third flip, Bill stood, looking about with an expectant eye. Scratching his hair, he wondered how best to show off his Talent. Disappointment clouded his face as he discarded one idea after the next. Then he spotted his target walking down the street, wearing a yellow blouse and green skirt. Liza Manfry, ignorant of Bill’s interest, wandered down the road, her nose stuck in the air. A crooked grin passed over Bill’s face as he turned to Jack, a "watch this" expression if ever Jack had seen one.
Waiting patiently on the grass, purred Gesma, her flanks flexing from the earlier workout. ‘Gesma, give Liza a kiss,’ laughed Bill. The cat, with her tail swishing behind her, sprang through the fence. In moments a horrified scream shattered the peace of the village, as Gesma, clinging to Liza’s yellow blouse, licked the girl’s
‘Felt what?’ asked Jack, his unease a palpable knot in his throat.
‘It’s hard to explain, my head began to buzz; and then I heard a snap in my ear.’
Jack gripped Bill by the shoulder. ‘What snap?’ The Demon must have hurt him, though he saw no outward sign.
‘I don’t know,’ said Bill, ‘just a snap. Spotting Wolf I knew I could make him do things.’
‘What do you mean, make him do things?’
‘Things,’ said Bill, waving his arms. ‘I called Wolf to me. That old dog won’t come on command, not even to Grandpa, so I almost cried when he came over. My grandparents only noticed when I had Wolf stand on his hind legs. You should’ve seen ol’ Wolf standing like a man.’ He laughed. ‘Grandpa saw him first, dropping his half-filled pipe amongst his tobacco. Grandma turned around to tell him off for messing up the table top when she saw me shaking Wolf’s front paw. Grandpa shot up from the table to shake my hand. If not for Grandma, Wolf would still be walking on his hind legs. She was concerned with his age.’
Yang, having taken the shape of Grandpa Poulis, clapped Bill’s back, knocking off the blue cap that had sat askance on his head.
Too often, Bill, without a Talent, had felt an outsider, but now that Bill had found his, Jack became disquieted. He tried to force a smile, only for his lips to quiver, betraying his uncertainty.
Bill, having spotted Miss Mistletoe’s cat, Gesma, scratching the white fence bordering the garden, failed to notice Jack’s reaction. Settling down with his back to Jack, Bill beckoned the black feline away from her rubbing post. Any other day the cat would have given Bill a long disdainful stare and then shot up a tree. This time when Bill hooked his finger, she came running, her tail straight up in the air. With a pounce, the cat sprang onto the offered arm and coiled herself around his shoulders. Peering behind Bill, she blinked at Jack.
Turning, Bill smiled. ‘What should I make her do? Something special, I want to test myself.’
Troubled by the morning’s turn of events, Jack could think of nothing. Who commanded the animal, his friend, or the demon? Preoccupied by the conundrum he absently watched Bill direct the cat from his shoulder.
‘There’s one more thing,’ said Bill closing his eyes.
‘What are you doing?’
‘When I close my eyes and concentrate I can see through the eyes of the animal.’
‘What do you see?’ asked Jack, intrigued despite his foreboding.
‘Everything that we can,’ answered Bill, ‘only in black and white.’
The long grass rose to Gesma’s face, her emerald eyes rapt on Bill. Twisting her lithe body, the cat flipped backward, clearing the grass to land on her feet in one smooth motion. Bill clapped his hands in delight. Without pause, she jumped from left to right. When Gesma performed her third flip, Bill stood, looking about with an expectant eye. Scratching his hair, he wondered how best to show off his Talent. Disappointment clouded his face as he discarded one idea after the next. Then he spotted his target walking down the street, wearing a yellow blouse and green skirt. Liza Manfry, ignorant of Bill’s interest, wandered down the road, her nose stuck in the air. A crooked grin passed over Bill’s face as he turned to Jack, a "watch this" expression if ever Jack had seen one.
Waiting patiently on the grass, purred Gesma, her flanks flexing from the earlier workout. ‘Gesma, give Liza a kiss,’ laughed Bill. The cat, with her tail swishing behind her, sprang through the fence. In moments a horrified scream shattered the peace of the village, as Gesma, clinging to Liza’s yellow blouse, licked the girl’s
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