GLBT

Reader knew Von was beside him. He opened his eyes and smiled at him. "It was good."

"You ate it all, I see."

"Yeah. Told you I was hungry. Did you finally get someone to play poker with you?"

"Nope."

"Poor baby."

He laughed. "I'm even desperate enough to play with you."

"Wow that is bad."

Von picked up the tray.

"Tell me about this poker playing. It intrigues me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where did you learn to play poker like that?"

Von looked over at him. He looked better tonight, still bruised and battered, but the pain had eased in his eyes.

"The first time I played poker, I played for the lives of myself and five other men."

Reader moved up a bit on his pillow, looked at him. "How did that happen?"

"I was a young soldier then. We were fighting an army from the Eastern Block. We were outnumbered and they surrounded us, took us hostage. They put us in this cage that was right beside this room where they were playing cards. I'd never played poker in my life, but stuck in that cage, waiting to die, with two of the others badly injured, I concentrated on that poker game. Three days later when I heard the order given to take us out and shoot us, I challenged the leader to a game of poker."

Reader shook his head. "What were the stakes?"

"Our lives. If I beat him, he was to let us go. And if I lost, he could go ahead."

"And he went for it?"

"I learned one thing about that man watching him play, he was gambler. And I knew he'd accept my challenge. I remember he asked me if I'd played poker before and I told him I hadn't. I told him it was my first time."

"Did he believe you?"

"I don't know, but he laughed and laughed."

"And you beat him?"

"No," Von said, "I lost."

"Huh?"

"I lost," he grinned, "but it got me out of the cage. I grabbed the gun from the guard beside me when he was checking his cards, shot his guard and took him hostage until his men opened the cage and took out the rest of the men."

Reader was laughing.

"And you still kept playing poker?"

"Damn right I kept playing. After that, I practiced the game and read everything I could on it. I was so damn scared when I lost that poker game, I practically shit my pants."

Both he and Reader were laughing hysterically now.

"I said to myself, 'Von, you're never going to lose another poker game as long as you live.' And you know what? I never have."

When Cameo walked into the room, both Von and Reader were laughing like two fools. She shook her head. "There you are, Von." She picked up the tray. "Come on," she motioned to him, "out of here now and let Reader get some sleep."

"Goodnight," Von said with a smile.

"Night," Reader replied.

Cameo gave him a brief kiss. "Get some sleep," she said.

"Cameo," he said.

"What?"

"Don't."

"Don't what? What are you talking about?" She eyed him.

"If you're planning on seducing him, don't."

Cameo slammed down the tray. "I'm a grown woman now, Reader. Stop treating me like a child."

"He doesn't…see you that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody is both now, Reader. We're liberated. Even you've had women."

"Friend lovers, Cameo. I've had women friends as lovers, but I've never been in love with one. You don't pick the person based on sex anymore. It's just who you love."

"Exactly. And I've decided on him."

"But he hasn't decided on you."

"Why are you fighting me on this unless…Reader!"

"Look, this isn't a competition, Cameo. I don't want to see you hurt. He's not for you."

"You know something about him. What do you know? He's had women, hasn't he?"

"Yes, and the one person he ever loved was never his lover. They didn't get the chance."

"That doesn't mean he can't fall for me."

"No, it doesn't mean that. It's just that if it happens, it might not mean the same to him. It's been a long time."

"Then he needs me."

"Maybe he needs you tonight, but, sis…it could be anyone tonight. Never mind. You're right. You're a grown woman. Do what you will, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Stop being such a doomsayer. Go to sleep," she kissed his nose. "See you in the morning."

She took the tray back to the kitchen. Von was nowhere in sight. She walked down the hallway and she spotted him in the next bedroom, undoing his shirt.

Atar crept out of the camp. He could feel the night wind. It still had a chill of winter. The moon was waxing high in the clear sky and it shone on the landscape like an eerie noontime sun. Atar felt his breath quicken. Tonight was a time of celebration, especially since he had been miraculously granted his boon.

He was dancing, he realized with a distant part of himself. He was moving his graceful, muscular body in the moonlight to the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It was the sound of a young girl, sighing as she discovered the passion of love for the first time, yet this voice was deep, ancient, and eternal. He laughed richly, throwing his head back, delighted with life. He was alone, he knew, and this knowledge allowed him to dance in honor of that odd, achingly beautiful voice without any inhibitions.

Out of the dark emerged a tall form, resplendently silver in the moonlight. Atar stood suddenly dazed as he recognized the werewolf.

His silvery hair shone in the dark. His eyes, so cunning in the face of a wolf, still held a deep mystery. In one large hand he held a bouquet of exquisite flowers. These he handed to Atar, who was too stunned to speak.

“Is this how it is done, my dear Atar? I saw you give such a thing to the girl. I was hoping…”

Atar was used to speaking with Bulliwuf mentally. This was perhaps why he never spoke to the others. Only Bulliwuf understood. He struggled to speak. He opened his mouth, but only a sigh emerged as Bulliwuf pulled him closer, so that their bodies met. Atar felt the hardness of the werewolf, and his heat. The flowers fell from his hand as his arms instinctively embraced Bulliwuf’s strong back. The werewolf buried his nose in Atar’s hair, snuffing as he usually did. His hot tongue, so familiar, lapped around his ear. Hot desire emanated from the silvery form. Atar went stiff with the sensation. He held on as if his life depended on it, and the heat from the naked werewolf seemed to seep into every part of his willing body.

He’d always found acceptance with Bulliwuf. To be loved fully, to be an object of desire, rather than of scorn made him feel confused and weak. Bulliwuf took his face in his large hands and held him as he kissed Atar deeply. He took of him hungrily, until Atar was breathless. Their hot bodies intertwined, and Atar felt his soul rise to places he’d never imagined existed.


“I have suffered through so much, my friend,” Bulliwuf said in a voice so smooth and luscious that Atar gasped. “I have seen you succeed and I have wanted to take you so many times. Do you know how hard it is for me?”

He took Atar into his strong arms and pushed him against the trunk of a dark, ancient oak. “I want you now. I can’t wait.” Bulliwuf’s silvery-blue eyes had the eerie shine of an animal. He stared into Atar’s eyes and cupping his chin, he kissed him. First lightly—so lightly that it was as if a feather passed over his lips. Atar pushed against him now. He hadn’t realized how much his own passion had been pent up. His hands moved over Bulliwuf’s powerful body. He could feel the nakedness of the werewolf rubbing against him, and it was more than he could take. He ran eager hands through the silver hair that was soft—almost like a rich fur, but so long. His ears were hot. His whole body seemed too hot.

Atar had never taken the lead in their love making, but now he moved with aggression. Bulliwuf chuckled in his deep baritone, and this excited Atar. How sweet he tasted. Atar kissed him all over, panting as his hands moved over the muscles. He knew Bulliwuf’s body so well. It was as if it had just dawned upon him. He wanted nothing more, and he knew that for all of his bragging about women, that Bulliwuf only wanted him. Atar wanted to own Bulliwuf. He wanted to take him in and adore him forever.

The stars shone brightly in the night sky and the air hummed with life as it had done on a night, many, many years ago. As their bodies came together and they cried out in passion, the world seemed to join with them. The cacophony of night animal sounds, the babbling of the water in the creek, even the sounds no human could hear enveloped them as Bulliwuf shared his awesome power with Atar. For that moment, Atar saw and heard things through his werewolf. The night cried out with them and pulsated with eternal life.



 

“Do you want this?”

“Yes! Yes!” Zohak screamed.

The Goddess was inches away now. Zohak was surprised to feel the deep fear struggle violently to the surface. He thrust his hands out, warding her away, his face a mask of fear, but it was too late. He couldn’t move.

She bent her head and kissed his right shoulder with unseen lips. Tiny fangs pierced his skin. They were scalding hot, like fire. Zohak shuddered with pleasure. She kissed his left shoulder, tiny fangs again piercing his skin. Zohak felt the most wondrous waves of power shoot through him. He felt like a god!

Then Zohak screamed and screamed. He fell to his knees, screaming. And all the while, his head rang with the sharp, measured sound of iron striking iron. The sound rolled through him, tearing at him, tearing at his sanity like a raging river. The awful clanging mingled with his pain, producing a fear inside him unlike any he had ever experienced. He screamed until the blood dripped out of his mouth and nose. He felt the most awful sense of shame and violation that he had ever known. The pain persisted like fire, with unbearable intensity. The Goddess behind him laughed. The thick air was foul with the scent of rotting corpses and vile things.

“What have you done? What have you done?” Zohak screamed at the presence, hating it with all the intensity of his pain. He could not hear his own words for the awful clanging in his head. The measured tones fell with inexorable precision. Zohak fell to the floor, clutching his shoulders as more unbearable pain centralized there. Under the palms of his hands, he felt his shoulders swelling. He felt something smooth push against the palms of his hands.

“What…what’s happening to me? What? Ahh!”

Zohak screamed again, but his voice was horrible to hear. The weak, rasping croak was a parody of his normal clear voice. He took his hands away, but he could feel the things growing. A hungry hissing filled the chamber, and the clanging died away. Zohak strained to hear it, but the hissing was now dominant.

“No! No!” Zohak sobbed, wishing this were a dream.

The chamber was in blackness again. Zohak stumbled over to his room, and fumbled for the lamp. He somehow got the thing lit. Blinded by tears, he blundered into his bedroom. The light from the lamp seemed to be swallowed up by the utter darkness around him. He froze before the mirror, shaking his head in denial. Through his tears, he saw the sleek black shapes weaving in the air above his head. Their scales glinted in the yellow light as they undulated ceaselessly in a way that was sensual, but at the same time unspeakably horrible.

The one on his right shoulder dipped and flicked his damp hair with its red, forked tongue. The copper eyes of both snakes regarded Zohak with steady malevolent intelligence through the mirror.

 

The drip, drip, drip of water cut through the air. Each drip reverberated in his head. Zohak opened his eyes slowly. At least the clanging hadn’t started. His limbs were heavy. He tried to speak, but only a low moan escaped his lips. He thrashed his head and moaned louder. He saw the figure in the doorway. It was dark, but rays of light made a fiery backdrop. He moaned again and tried in vain to move. The figure casually set a huge mace down and pulled a wicked-looking knife out of its sheath. Zohak recognized it as the knife belonging to his foster father, Melik of the Stout Ribs. He had given it to Zohak just before he was murdered.

The man’s face was visible now. It was Atar the Idiot, his half-brother, and the real heir to the throne. Zohak wanted to plead with him. Atar’s face was impassive. All of its anger was gone. He pulled off the covers to reveal Zohak’s naked body and then, as if working with a deer carcass, he began to flay Zohak. Unable to scream, Zohak moaned in torment and terror.

Instead of the torment ending in death, he was roughly dragged out of his bloody bed and it was then that the clanging began. The dragon snakes were already writhing in agony with their master, but now their frantic movements maddened him.

Clang, clang, clang!

Another figure appeared at the door. He was a huge man—yes, it was the blacksmith Kava. He was carrying iron chains. He took these and wrapped them around Zohak’s burning body and they made his flesh sizzle like roasting meat. Zohak was overwhelmed with the horrifying odor of his own burning flesh. The blacksmith eyed Zohak for a moment then reached back to something he’d set on the floor. He put an ox yoke on Zohak’s neck.

Zohak could see the agony in the man’s mind. He saw the blacksmith’s daughter, the one his dragon snakes had eaten. His skinless body burned at the memory. He could see and feel the agony of every person he’d fed to his snakes. In response, the snakes vomited a vile-smelling substance that tortured him as it spilled over his exposed flesh.

The men were making him walk. They moved on and on until they reached a mountain that looked horribly black. They led him into a cave deep in the mountain. The blacksmith held a hammer in one hand and a long iron spike in the other. He was unable to move as the man hammered the spikes into his body, pinning him into the rock. Zohak realized that the man was being careful not to harm his vital organs.

The two men left him in the darkness and suddenly Zohak found his voice.

Zohak’s screaming brought the guards, his viziers, and even his wife, Jahi the Lovely. “Bring the astrologers and magicians,” he croaked.

His hair was in disarray and he hadn’t changed his bedclothes. Urine soaked the front and back of his robe, but Zohak didn’t care.

“So what does this dream mean?”

“We cannot be certain…”

“It can mean several things. Perhaps not all bad,” another astrologer said.

“Guards!” Zohak roared. “Prepare to have these men all flayed alive. They are hiding the truth for fear.”

An old astrologer, the chief, stood. “I will tell you. The reason we hesitate is that there is no good news. The dream means this: Everyman is born not for his parents, but as a tithe for death. No person—not even the highest king, can escape death. It means too, that your evil deeds have earned you a terrible reward. The man they call the ‘Firestarter’ will come back and he will destroy you. The blacksmith of your dream represents the many people you have killed to satisfy the greed of your snakes. Because of that greed, people have risen against you. You cannot escape your destiny, which is endless suffering as an eternal captive in Mount Damavand. The iron with which they bound you represents good over evil. The blacksmith works with iron. Iron represents forces that work against demons. It means, in short, that you are now not a man, but a demon. For you, death would be a blessing.”

As they walked inside, Taylor couldn’t help but notice the number of conversations that stopped as they passed. It made him feel awkward and embarrassed at the same time.

“I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says victim on it,” Taylor grumbled.

Devlin came rushing over and put an arm around Christian’s shoulders. “Just flip them off. That’s what I would do.”

Taylor smiled, happy to see his friend. “You would flip off the Pope.”

“Only if he ticked me off.”

Devlin tilted head down and playfully nibbled on Christian’s neck.

“Gah.” Taylor pretended to cover his eyes. “I don’t know what’s stranger, seeing you in a good mood or the fact that you two are actually a couple.”

“I say both of them are disgusting,” Andy said as he came over and started walking on the other side of Taylor.

Taylor realized they’d been waiting for him to arrive, and they’d made sure to be there to walk in with him. It made him love his friends all the more. Then they turned the corner, and Taylor spotted somebody waiting by his locker.

“James,” Taylor breathed.

The stress of having to face his classmates must have gotten to Taylor because all of a sudden his heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Or maybe it was just because he’d never seen James look so sad…so vulnerable…so lost.

James glanced up from under the fringe of his dark hair, his blue eyes rimmed with red, like he’d been crying. It tore at Taylor to think of how much James must be beating himself up over the whole situation. It was hard enough to come out as it was, but James had basically done it in front of the whole school.

Before he even realized it, Taylor rushed toward James. His friend let out a soft sob as he wrapped his arms around Taylor in a hug. There was a bit of pain, since his ribs were still tender, but Taylor didn’t care. He enjoyed being in James’s warm embrace and that was all that mattered.

“I’m so sorry,” James whispered.

“It’s okay. I still love you.”

As they continued to hold each other, Taylor realized that James needed the hug just as much if not more than he did. So, he just stood there and let James take in the comfort. It was several moments before James pulled away.

“Are we okay now?” James asked as he shuffled his feet.

“Of course we are.”

Andre fell to his knees and drank deeply of the crystalline waters. The sound of the waterfall filled his ears with its thundering and a spray of water misted his overheated body. He thought he had never tasted anything so good before. After a while, his body ceased to tremble and he looked up. Directly under the torrent of water, stood a man with his back toward him. He seemed unaware of Andre’s presence, so loud was the waterfall.

Andre immediately looked away from the naked form, but that was only his first reaction. He stared now and saw that the man appeared to be well muscled and young. His tight buttocks led to strong legs, only half of which he could see, as the man was standing in the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. Sparkling water cascaded off of his head making him look like a Buddha with his effulgence. The man stood under the water as if in deep meditation in the performance of the traditional Japanese misogi ritual of purification. Andre was riveted.

Andre stood and took a step, then thought better of it. The man was oblivious to his presence. It seemed unwise to disturb him, but this wasn’t the only reason for Andre’s paralysis. He wondered what the man’s face looked like. His skin shone with health. His hair was very long—so long, that Andre at first had taken him to be a woman, but even from behind, the man’s muscles removed Andre’s doubts.

As if suddenly aware that someone was staring, the man whirled and faced him. Although he was standing at some distance, Andre could see the man’s face first register surprise, then it became clouded with anger. The face was still lovely beyond anything he had ever seen before. The man’s eyes were large and expressive. His eyebrows were sharply defined bows. Although his features were almost chiseled, his full lips and delicate lines gave him a look that could only be described as beautiful. Beautiful in the elegant and exotic ways the features of some of the ancient Japanese aristocratic women were portrayed in court art. Andre stood with his mouth slightly ajar and his body frozen into inaction by the spectacle of such an attractive person. The man turned slowly and Andre lost sight of him as he made his way behind a copse of trees.

Snapping out of his reverie, Andre began to walk toward the spot where the man had retreated, silently practicing what he would say. The man was obviously angry, but perhaps he could explain.

In an instant, Andre felt it and turned suddenly. Although it had just been a moment, the man stood behind him, fully dressed in archaic traditional garb. He wore a long white kimono over which he had draped a dark blue tunic emblazoned with the crest of the ancient Abe clan. Andre had seen such a piece in a Kyoto museum not long ago. He wore the tall cap of the practitioners of Onmyodo yin yang magic. The man’s beautiful eyes narrowed by rage and his face looked like that of Fudo Myo-o, the Wrathful Buddha. Andre stared, unable to speak, but he was deeply embarrassed that instead of staying silent, his mouth worked as he tried to speak coherently while only cackling and squawking like a frightened chicken.

“Go away,” the man boomed. “Go away and never come back. If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”
 

Andy ducked into an empty bathroom and called his mother. While it might make him late for his next class, Andy knew this was the best time to reach her.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, baby. Why are you calling me now of all times?”

Andy tried to ignore the annoyed tone in her voice. “Well, I know that you usually take a break at this time, so I thought we could chat for a while.”

“Did you forget that show I have in Milan next week? I don’t have time to talk to you right now.”

Andy gripped the phone tighter. Please, Mom. Something really bad happened to me, and I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost, alone and scared, and I need you so bad. Can’t you forget your work just this once…please?

“Did you hear Dad is coming into town next week?”

“Now, you know I haven’t talked to that man in over a year. All I care about is that he keeps sending in his half of the money to support you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I really don’t need much.”

She let out a soft snort. “You say that now, but we both know what a princess you are. If you lost your clothing allowance and credit cards, you’d throw a fit.”

Andy sank down onto the floor, the cool tiles of the wall pressing against his back. “Not if it meant I got to see you more often.”

Her trill laugh grated on Andy’s ears. “Don’t be silly. I won’t be able to leave here for at least a few more months. My business is finally expanding, so if I leave now, I could risk losing everything."

“I just…miss you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re no longer a child.” She spoke to one of her assistants before coming back to the line. “How about I send you some new clothes? I went to fashion week, and you would be amazed at some of the new styles this year. I’ll send you all of them. Just think, you’ll be the best dressed boy in the state.”

Andy wanted to scream I don’t want new clothes. Or some bloody car. I just want to have my parents act like they give a damn for once. Why can’t you be normal like everybody else? Why can’t you act like I’m something more than a nuisance or afterthought?

Since Andy knew those words would only fall on deaf ears, he said, “Yeah, Mom, that would be great, thanks.”

When she didn’t reply, Andy added, “I love you…you know that, right?”

But he was talking to dead air, since she’d already hung up. Andy pulled the phone away from his face. It was only when he saw the moisture on the screen that he realized he’d been crying the entire time he’d been talking to her.

I woke up to complete silence. Looking around, everyone was gone except for Wulf sitting in a beat up recliner across from me reading a book. He looked at me when I went to sit up.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s a little after midnight. Everyone else went to bed for the night.”

“Wow, I’m a real partier.”

“You’re fine just the way you are. I think that’s what the problem is with you not being able to choose between Volk and Hunt. You’re finally just learning that it’s okay to be just yourself, and you haven’t had enough time to adjust. You want to make them both happy, but you’re afraid of hurting the other one because you’re not confident in your own skin yet. They have a similar problem. Volk thinks he can’t protect you, Hunt thinks you’ll be happier with Volk.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Then make a decision. They both care for you, but I know whoever you don’t choose will easily become a very close friend. You won’t lose one of them if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re pack, connected deeper than brothers.”

In the last month, that was what had become my greatest fear. I was so afraid of losing one of them, I couldn’t move forward. “You really think I won’t lose either one of them?”

Wulf looked me right in the eye, “I know you won’t. I’m heading to bed. Think about it. You already know—that’s why I talked to you tonight. I just didn’t want the fear keeping you back. Goodnight, Kale, and remember everyone else cares for you like a brother. Your decision won’t change that.”

With those parting words, Wulf made his way up the stairs to leave me to my thoughts. Fear had been overruling my decision. I knew who I wanted to be with, I just was afraid of losing one of them and my new friends. Now that I had the go ahead from Wulf, I felt ready.

I sat on the couch and collected myself for a moment. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to go see him. Would it be too forward to go into his room and just climb into his bed? He had at my place all the time. Why did it feel so different here? Then I knew why. My intentions to go up there were not just to hold one another for the night. I wanted to cement our relationship with something more. How much more would depend on both of us, but I wanted more than cuddling tonight. With determination I got up off the couch and walked up to the guy who was the one.

“I don’t want to die with regrets. My mother always warned me about that,” Andre said.

Seimei finally stood and Andre followed him outside. “After such a night of pleasure, I am hungry. Let’s bathe under the waterfall and then pick something from the forest for our meal.”

As they approached the waterfall, droplets of water sprayed their faces. It was so refreshing, but the water could be quite cold, coming from the snow-capped mountain. Andre followed Seimei in, removing his kimono and wrapping the cotton bathing kimono about his naked body. Seimei laughed at his discomfort. He wore only a loincloth, which allowed Andre to see his perfect body. His chest was broad and well-muscled, yet delicate in the way of a man who has not yet reached his middle age. Andre knew that it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t avert his eyes. The water cascaded over Seimei’s head and he yanked Andre’s hand, dragging him under the torrent of water.

Andre’s body almost convulsed with the cold. He was shivering within seconds, but Seimei pulled him close in an embrace that made him tingle. The water pounded over their bodies as they stood still. Andre breathed in the cool air and took in the scent of the water, the mountains, and the underlying spicy scent of Seimei. They stayed under the water like this for so long that Andre lost track. His initial discomfort was replaced by a sense of awe. It was they kind of awe that makes one tremble in the face of nature’s majesty. It made all of Seimei’s stories seem so plausible.

They finally left the water and Seimei donned his dry robes. He clucked at the way Andre tied his inexpertly, and showed him the proper way. Then they took rice fiber baskets with them as they set off for the forest. Around them birds chattered happily. Andre was afraid to look at them, but finally he did. He saw what he’d feared. Some of the so-called birds were mountain tengus, small monsters who were supposed to inhabit the ancient mountains. Some stood in trees with their arms crossed over their chests in belligerence, while some threw their heads back to sing heartily. Andre knew what they were thinking. He wondered how many of them had watched their lovemaking and he shuddered. He thought of himself as a private person—so unlike Seimei, who was used to being in the company of so many souls.

“These are yama-no-imo. The roots are the part to eat,” Seimei said, pointing to a plant.

“Mountain potatoes,” Andre said. “They aren’t really very good.”

“Yes, I wish I were eating with the emperor too, but we take what we can,” Seimei said.

“Konnyaku! There!” Seimei pointed to a plant Andre knew as Devil’s Tongue. He wasn’t too fond of that plant either.

They filled their baskets and Seimei smiled. “Now for a real treat. There is a mikan tree growing in a meadow not far from here.”

Andre followed him until they came into a clearing that seemed magical. In the middle of it was a gnarled old tree with orange fruit on it. They were ripe, and many were on the ground, being devoured by tengus and tanukis. Andre picked one and smelled it. It was a kind of citrus. He could tell by its texture and smell. He picked as many as he could hold in his sleeve and headed for where Seimei was already seated, peeling the fruit. The peel was rather thick, and the fruit small, but it was sweet and delicious. They ate until Andre was almost full. Andre felt like joking, so when Seimei got up to pick more fruit, he took the pile of peels he’d produced and added them to Seimei’s pile. When he returned, he gave Andre more fruit and resumed peeling and eating.

“You must have been starved,” Andre said. “Look at your pile of peels!”

Seimei said, “Not half as starved as you, my friend. I notice that you even ate your peels!” He laughed and Andre saw he’d been defeated at his own game. Seimei was just delightful.

They returned to the hut with their bounty, and Seimei began to set a pot on the tripod for boiling the yama-no-imo. He put Andre to work pounding the konnyaku.

“Seimei, you said that some people can become oni-devils even while they are alive. How does that happen?”

“I can tell you one story that is pretty grisly, and then I’ll tell you one from my own experience. The first one I only heard.”

Once there was a man with many wives. The first wife was quite old, and sick as well. The youngest was a girl of sixteen. As you know, many rich men will treat themselves to a young wife even at an old age. The girls these men choose are often poor and their families are more than happy to sell them to some old rich man.

You can imagine that the older first wife was very displeased with this. Instead of becoming angry with her husband, she became hateful and angry with the youngest wife. As the days passed and she became sicker, her husband rarely came to see her, preferring the company of the young new wife. When she felt her time was near, the old wife called upon the husband.

“My dear wife, I wish that all of the doctors I hired could have cured you. I really tried hard.”

“I only wish that you live long and enjoy life, Husband, but I have one request.”

“Anything, dear wife.”

“I want to speak with your youngest wife. I want to leave instructions for her so that she may serve you well.”

“No one will miss me,” I whispered.

“More people will miss you than you think. People you haven’t even met will not even know how big the hole they have in their life that you could have filled.” Mason grabbed my face gently with both hands. He was a little cold to the touch but it made me focus completely on those amazing green eyes.

I choked out, “I’m suffocating. I can’t take this anymore.”

He rubbed his thumbs on my cheeks, wiping stray tears and sleet away, “Then ask someone to help you breathe.”

“I’m tired.” I started to shiver as the water dripped off my chin.

“Then find someone to lean on. They are out there waiting for you, they just don’t know you, but they want to help. You just have to reach out.”

“No one will miss me. I’ll always be miserable.”

Mason looked up at the sky and began mumbling. When he looked back down his face was shining with happiness, “I have a special gift for you. You want to see what your life is going to be like.” He leaned forward pressing his forehead to mine while keeping his eyes open only inches from me, “Then see.”

I started dreaming. I was in a large room full of people. They were all milling around, ignoring me. I started moving through the room toward a door. As I was moving, people in the crowd started coming toward me and saying my name. They started touching me. At first, it didn’t bother me, but then they started trying to hold me back, to keep me from reaching the door. As I got closer, more and more were holding me back. I nearly reached the door when the crowd started pulling me down, crushing me. I became aware that I had a hand over my mouth.

Suddenly, I was very, very awake. An arm was across my chest, holding me down. I panicked.

“Alex, it’s me, your Gram’s friend, Bob.”

I stopped squirming and looked up through bleary eyes and into the face of Bob Leonard.

“I’m going to take my hand away, but I need you to be quiet,” he whispered.

I nodded as well as I could and he took his hand away. Mr. Leonard slowly straightened up.

“What in the hell…” I hissed.

“Your Gram knows I’m here. I need a blood sample.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” I said with incredulity.

“She’ll explain everything,” he said as he took a little pouch from his coat pocket. “Let me see your arm.”

I was too flabbergasted to refuse. He took out a syringe and a swab and a piece of rubber hose and started to take the sample with a speed and efficiency that rivaled the nurse.

“It’s the middle of the night. Why can’t you do this in the morning?” I glanced at the clock. It said 12:45.

“It’s a long story. Longer than I’ve got right now.” He held up a newly filled vial of blood and seemed satisfied. He put it and the rest of the things into the pouch and slipped it back in his pocket. Then he picked up a folder that I hadn’t seen before and started examining it under the night-light. He finally spoke again.

“It’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this, Alex.”

More secrets. Terrific. He moved over to the counter and set the folder down.

“If anyone asks how your chart got here, tell them you don’t know. One of the nurses must have left it. Get it?”

“Um…”

“This is really important, Alex. So, get it?”

“I get it.”

“Good. Your Gram will explain the whole thing.” Mr. Leonard took a look through the little window in the door, opened the door and stuck out his head. After looking up and down the hallway, he slipped out.

The mountain was a howler today. Placing both hands on the sides of the gate, I waited for one of the ski patrol to give me the go-ahead. At his signal, I exploded out of the gate and took off down the mountain on my snowboard. The only sound I could hear was the wind and the sound of my board hitting the hard snowy terrain. Even my breathing was drowned out by the elements. The mountain crew was planning to shut down the mountain due to conditions, but I’d managed to get by them for one last run.

The first bank turn came up and I tried to keep the chatter out of my board as I went into it. Coming out of it—barely—I prepared for my first big air coming up. I knew this course like the back of my hand. Picking up speed, my board began to rattle more and more until I hit the jump. My jump was pretty small but I landed solid, making me gain confidence.

Two more bank turns, one right after another, and the chatter in my board seemed to vibrate through my whole body. The second jump came. I tried to bust some big air this time and proceeded to lose control mid-flight once again, causing one heck of a crashtastic landing. People were lining the course so they all clapped as I slid down the mountain on my backside, asspassing everyone until I finished about twenty yards down.

Flopping back, I stared up at the clear skies through my tinted goggles, gasping for breath, causing small puffs of clouds to form over me. Jeez, that really hurt. Nothing like finishing the day and looking like a Pop-Tart with your entire back covered in white snow. Maybe in about five minutes I’d get up to sweep the snow off. But right now, I’ll just lay here and try to take a breath…

I’d made a couple of grocery runs to the market at Olsen’s Corner, and the cavernous trunk was a major asset, because I went through groceries fast.

We set out for town, and within about fifteen minutes we were on the outskirts.

“Where should we go for tires?” I asked.

“Where else? Sears,” Farley answered.

I headed for the Mall of Antioch, slogan: It’s All at the Mall, and soon I pulled the old cab into the parking lot of Sears Auto Center.

My stepdad Phil is the manager, but he didn’t seem to be around, and I didn’t see his Lincoln in the parking lot. We walked up to the counter.

“Hi, Randy,” I said.

Randy looked up from the computer and took a moment to process what he was seeing.

“Can I help you?” he said after a brief pause.

“Randy, it’s me, Alex,” I said.

“Um, okay,” he said. He turned back to his computer.

“Last name?” Randy said, looking at the screen.

“Alex Johnson, Phil’s stepson,” I said, trying to keep any note of exasperation out of my voice.

Randy typed a few characters then stopped. After staring at the screen for a few more seconds, he looked up at me.

“Huh?”

“I had a growth spurt.” I pulled out my wallet.

“Look,” I said, “here’s my license. Just take all the information off of that. I need to buy a set of tires.”

With an occasional distrustful glance in my direction, he entered the information. I told him what kind of car I had and he entered that also.

“All we have in that size are light truck tires,” he said.

“That’s perfect!” Farley said.

“When will Phil be back?” I asked.

“Oh, he just went to drop off a customer,” Randy answered.

That was good. That meant when he got back we could use his employee discount. I turned over the keys and we went to the waiting room.

The waiting room only had cheap plastic stacking chairs, so it looked like I’d be waiting standing up. I decided to take a walk through the mall.

Not unexpectedly, I attracted attention. Since my last growth spurt, I’d ordered more suitable clothing over the internet. Even so, I was mostly limited to tees and athletic shorts. The tees were for massively obese people. While they fit okay around the chest, I still had to cut off the sleeves to be comfortable. Celia took in the bottom half of the shirts to make them more V-shaped so that they looked less like a circus tent.

I was learning to take the attention in stride. While there were people that would laugh and others that would simply stare, they seemed to be good-natured. The last couple of weeks with Ryan telling me how amazing I was certainly didn’t hurt.

I stopped in at the Big and Tall shop, and of course, they remembered me. I thought I’d progressed beyond anything they had to offer, but they actually had polo shirts and rugby shirts in my size. This was good to know, because when I went back to school I’d need to start thinking about winter clothes. I bought a couple of shirts and then I decided to get an ice cream cone.

At the ice cream store I walked up to the counter and the girl was wiping down the work area. She turned around to face me.

“Oh, my god,” she said, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth with a startled giggle. “I’m sorry,” she said with a nervous smile. “May I help you?”

“That’s okay, I get that a lot,” I said. “I’d like a triple scoop cone, please. Chocolate chip.”

“Coming right up,” she said, apparently recovered from the surprise.

“Whoa, what have they been feeding you, buddy?”

I looked down at the counter to my left where another employee, a young man this time, was looking up at me.

“Pretty much everything,” I said as I took my cone.

“Dude, you’re not kidding,” he said with awe. “How much do you weigh?”

“Danny!” the girl said.

“That’s okay. About six-seventy-five.”

“Whoa,” was all he said.

I headed back to the Auto Center, contentedly eating my ice cream. When I got there I saw the car was still on the lift and Phil hadn’t returned. Through the window, I saw Farley reading a magazine.

Rather than go back inside and just stand around, I went across the parking lot and sat down on the side of a concrete planter under a tree.

I was enjoying the last of my cone when I thought I heard a slight rustle in the bushes behind me. Suddenly I felt a sharp jab in the back of my neck, like a bee sting. I instantly reached back with my hand, but I didn’t feel anything. I brought my hand back and examined my fingers. They had the merest trace of blood on them. I reached back a second time and now my fingers definitely had a drop of blood. I stood up to look around. I could easily see over the bushes, but I didn’t see anyone or anything. I chalked it up to a bug bite.

A light touch on his shoulder startled him. It was the lovely tengu who always came now to hear Seimei’s stories. He was much bigger than the other tengus, and his face was nearly human. He wore gossamer robes that floated around his body, as if in respect for his divinity. Today he was dressed in a color between crimson and deep plum bordered in delicate gold that glimmered in the sun. At almost seven feet in height, he sometimes stooped to look into Andre’s face, something that never failed to make him feel disconcerted. His body emitted a slight, yet captivating perfume that reminded him of Seimei. It made him feel unreasonably jealous, thinking that they had been together for so long.

The tengu was extraordinarily beautiful. His wings were feathery and black, resembling those of a cursed angel. His long hair was tied up in a knot at the top of his head in the style of the ancient Japanese men. His large, liquid eyes conveyed wisdom, but also a deep sadness. No, maybe sadness wasn’t the right word. Andre knew now that wisdom—that infinite knowledge of truth, brought with it a quiet look that could be misinterpreted as melancholy.

The tengu’s lovely lips moved as if to say something, but Andre couldn’t hear him. He sat on a large boulder and signaled Andre to sit by him. His diaphanous robes floated about him, and it was difficult for Andre to work up the nerve to sit so near a creature that was so obviously divine. The tengu spoke louder now. He must have realized that Andre wasn’t capable of hearing his normal speech.

“I know what you want to hear, but Master Seimei does not wish to speak of it. I will tell you the story of how he came to be immortal, but you must never speak of it again. My name is Tarobo, and I am the dai-tengu of this mountain. I have known Seimei since he retired here. I protect him from the eyes of humans. Even if a human were to stray here, they would see and hear nothing. By my magic, I would cause them to become confused and leave.”

Andre held his hands together to keep his trembling from becoming apparent. “How is it that I was able to see him?”

Tarobo smiled slightly. Andre had never seen him smile before, and he was dazzled.

I arrived home a few days before the start of school, driving my Checker Marathon taxicab. Well, it’s not really mine, but Bob and Lauren’s farmhand, Farley, owns it. He’s letting me drive it as long as I take care of it and pay for the insurance. It’s a good thing, too. I just don’t fit in a regular car anymore. Did I tell you I was seven foot six? Even so, we had to fiddle with the driver’s seat to make it go back far enough to be comfortable, and I still have to wriggle in and out. Step one, pull my knees up to my chest as far as I can. Step two, point my lower legs to the left. Step three, stick my feet out the door while keeping my knees low enough to pass under the steering wheel. Step four, turn. Step five, lower my left shoulder and duck my head enough to clear the doorframe. Step six, stand up. Didn’t Arthur Murray start this way?

Ryan says you can’t buy entertainment like that.

When I got home from the farm, I pulled into the driveway and parked by the rear house. That’s where my grandmother, Gram, lives. She’s my dad’s mom. I used to wonder why she lived here with us instead of with a blood relative—other than me—but now I see that she wanted to be the pipeline between me and Bob.

“Hello, sweetie,” Gram said as she came out her front door. “You told me how big you are now, but I’m still amazed!”

She put her arms around my waist and gave me a hug. I could hardly see the top of her head over my expansive chest. When she reappeared, she looked up at me with a broad smile.

“I missed you, honey,” she said as she patted my abs. “Your stomach is so hard!”

“I missed you, too,” I replied. “Is anybody else home?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you put your things away and then we’ll have some lemonade.” I leaned over to give her a little kiss and then went to unload my gear.

I didn’t have much. I’d spent the summer wearing a pair or two of overalls and sandals, usually without a shirt—my Farmer John from Hell look, as Ryan calls it. As a result, I only had a couple of shirts and a few pairs of underwear. The rest was my computer, some books, and miscellaneous items.

I opened the back door to the main house and squeezed myself in. I was nearly a foot taller than the doorway and more than a foot wider, so I turned sideways and crouched. I’d become quite adept at the maneuver.

“Hello?” I called out, just to be sure.

I entered the kitchen and as I crossed the room, the floorboards complained mightily. My feet were pretty big and did a good job of spreading the load—think elephant—but I realized that caution was in order. Unlike the farmhouse, this was a modern building and presumably a bit more sturdy. Nevertheless, I proceeded with caution up the stairs to my bedroom.

As I entered my bedroom, I couldn’t get over how much smaller everything seemed. The ceiling was just inches from my head, and I had to be careful and not hit the light fixture. I spread my arms and nearly touched the opposite walls with my fingertips. My twin bed, which had already collapsed before I even got this big, seemed positively tiny. I put my meager belongings away and had a seat.

The bed complained, but it didn’t collapse any further. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as I lay on the bed with my head propped against the wall, my feet hanging off the end, and both elbows touching the floor. Unless I could talk Phil into it, I was probably going to have to blow the money I’d saved all summer on the biggest bed I could find. Until then, I’d have to be careful not to roll over.

I went back down and out to the back house to see Gram again. She’d been helping me with my back-to-school clothes, and I wanted to see how she was doing.

“Gram?” I called as I squeezed into the front room. She entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade.

“Sit down, sweetie,” she said. I looked around trying to select a chair that I wouldn’t flatten.

“I need to get my chair,” I said. I went back out to my car and got my old library chair out of the back seat. I took it back in the house and made myself comfortable. It occurred to me just then that I might need to take it with me to school. The thought of carrying a ratty old wooden chair around campus to all my classes didn’t sound very appealing.

“I’ve been shopping for your clothes,” she said as she handed me a glass of lemonade. “And I’ve had some success.” She sat down with a couple of large plastic shopping bags. “The people at the shop were very helpful. They all said to say hello, and hope you’ll visit them soon. I think you’re a little bit of a celebrity.” Gram pulled several t-shirts out of one bag.

“These are the largest tees they make. If you haven’t gotten any bigger since you sent me your measurements, you should be okay,” she said as she handed me the shirts. “I’m a little concerned about the sleeves,” she added.

The shirts were plain, basic tees, no printing, no pockets and just solid colors. I unhooked my overalls and pulled on a red one. It was nearly skin-tight, but at least it fit.

“What do you think?” I asked Gram.

“My, it’s certainly, well, impressive,” she said. The sleeves were indeed very tight, and they rode up on my biceps. “Here, try one of these jerseys.”

More of the old reliable football jerseys. I put one on over the t-shirt, and it was much looser.

“This is good,” I said.

As expected, the Bulldogs won the championship. The local paper named Jason MVP, naturally. I was sure that he still hated me, but maybe he was learning that perhaps he didn’t have to be a bully to gain the respect of his friends. Some friends, if you ask me.

By the way, my name’s Alex Johnson, and if you’ve been reading my scribblings so far, you know I’m a senior at Antioch High School in the bustling megalopolis of Antioch, Nebraska. The aforementioned Jason is the school bully, or at least he was until he and I had a little heart-to-heart.

You see, I’m seven-feet six-inches tall, and weigh a touch over seven hundred pounds. Yes, you read that right.

That’s a fairly recent development for me. Up until the middle of last school year, I was pretty average size. I was a scaredy-cat that didn’t interact with hardly anyone, mainly because I had a mild form of autism called Asperger’s.

I didn’t know it, but when I was a baby, my late father and his research partner, Dr. Bob Leonard, cured me of a terrible neuro-muscular disease with an experimental gene-splicing treatment. All seemed to be going well, until last year when something switched the whole process back on and turned me into a teenage version of the Hulk. At least I’m not green, and I don’t get mad. Well, no more than anybody else.

On the plus side, I’m healthy as a horse. Shit, I weigh as much. The reason I’m so heavy is that whatever made me grow also caused my muscles and bones to be much denser than average. As a result, I’m many times stronger than an ordinary person of the same size—that is, if one existed.

You might think that I dealt with Jason by simply pounding the shit out of him or threatening. The truth is, before I grew I’d been on the receiving end of a pounding and I just can’t imagine doing that to another human being.

Instead, I hit him where he lives. I threatened, er, promised him, that if he didn’t lay off the bully stuff, I’d go out for the football team and pretty much eclipse his entire high school career. When Jason realized he was going to have to choose between being the local sports hero or being a bully, he had a Come-To-Jesus moment and chose sports.  This was fine by me, because I never cared much for sports, anyway. Besides, I had an awesomely good-looking boyfriend.

Ryan is Japanese-American, and since last summer, he’s gone from handsome to achingly beautiful. He’s one of the grad students helping Bob with his research, and he’s come up with a compound designed to counteract the muscle wasting that accompanies so many chronic medical problems. It also makes a dandy post-workout supplement for healthy people. It’s not a hormone like steroids, so it doesn’t have all of those nasty side-effects. Ryan has packed on about twenty pounds of solid muscle, and these days I can hardly keep my hands off him.

Because of my refusal to go out for sports since I went all Jumbo, I was relegated to first period gym with all the scrawniest, geekiest freshmen. That hasn’t been all bad, because I’ve struck up friendship with a lot of them—once they realized I wasn’t going to eat them or something.

My favorite little geek is a guy named Courtney. We hit it off right off the bat. I think it’s probably because he immediately took me at face value and never judged me. This meant a lot to me, not just because of my freakish size, but because it’s pretty much common knowledge now that I’m gay.

So when I had a chance to help my buddy, I took it. Court has always hated the fact that he’s so small. Small people have an unfairly hard time in our society, and for Courtney it meant that he was picked on mercilessly.  I sweet-talked my boyfriend into giving me some of his magic muscle elixir and then convinced a reluctant Courtney to start weightlifting.

It was a hard sell at first, but with the beginner's gains helped along by the growth compound, he caught the bug. Once that happened, the change was remarkable; and I don’t just mean physical. Suddenly, little Courtney was brimming with self-confidence. It didn’t hurt that when we started doing strength training in gym class, Court was the one showing everyone how it was done. He even landed a sweet—and pretty darn cute—little girlfriend. Everything seemed to be going well except for one teensy problem…

It had been a week since Courtney’s bottle of Grow Juice had gone missing, and so far, absolutely nothing had happened. I kept expecting at any minute for one or more of the football players to blow up like a balloon, but nothing. Courtney started bringing in just enough compound for the daily dose, and kept it with him until he used it. Why he couldn’t have done that in the first place is beyond me.