Only Death Can Keep Her

Only Death Can Keep Her

L.R. Stevens

More than anything else, Texas is hot. I stood in front of the swamp cooler in my boxers mentally cursing my mum for taking that damn teaching position at A&M. She couldn't be the only demonologist this side of the country. Besides, she already had a job. What could A&M offer that SF State couldn't?

I shivered as goose bumps broke out on my front as sweat dripped down my spine. Fan-fucking-tastic. My balls were so cold they nestled against my leg. My back however, was hot enough my waist was chaffing from the sweat-soaked elastic of my boxers.

“Damn it,” I groaned.

“Is there a problem, darling?” My mother's voice made me jump. She says that she was from Scotland, but I've always thought she sounded more English.

I turned to her. “It's fucking hot.”

Her brown hair was pulled back into a bun and superfluous silk scarf draped loosely around her neck. She looked like she should be walking down some ancient European street while speaking to a camera about forgotten history. I doubt anyone would peg her for having a keen interest in demons.

She blinked up at me before going to the thermostat. I twitched as my underwear dried to my ass.

“It's only 90 degrees in here, luv,” She said in her ever cheery tone.

If she had been a guy, I would have punched her in the face. Instead I settled for raising a sardonic eyebrow.

“Only?” I said, inconspicuously pulling the waistband of my boxers away from my skin.

“'Toshi,” she put her shopping bags down on the small round table. “I know you're still having trouble adjusting to our new life here.”

I nodded, waiting for the “but”.

“But,” she said sharply, taking my face into her hands. “You take that tone with me again and I'll put you over my knee.”

I looked at her, a full head shorter than my six-foot-tall-and-still-growing height. Something must have shown on my face because mum's eyes narrowed.

“You may be close to a foot taller than me, but don't think I won't, young man!”

I'd have pointed out that she was not only short, but also just human. Or that, as a half demon, I could probably take her while missing a few limbs. But she was still my mother and so I just nodded my acquiescence.

She tapped my cheek with the flat of her hand. “Also, put some clothes on. You'll catch cold.”

“Mum,” I reassured her, “its 90 degrees. If I put clothes on, I'll explode.”

“Then we'll turn up the air,” She shrugged. Turning to put away the groceries, she gave the swamp cooler's knob a liberal twist. The air rushed into the two-bedroom apartment with the sound of a jet engine. I shivered despite my best efforts not to.

I called over the noise, “I think I'm going to just go put some clothes on.”

“Dress lightly, darling. You're coming out with me,” Mum called back.

I cringed; glad she couldn't see it as I had already closed the door to my room.

“You're nineteen, Hitoshi,” Mum said after we'd been driving for a while, “I really think you should consider finding a path of your own and following it.”

I smiled at her, “I thought my path could be living in your basement for the rest of eternity.”

She shuttered. “Perhaps I ought to have named you Norman.”

I raised my eyebrow at her with a shrug. “Nah, I never did look good in heels.”

She laughed at that, nearly running into the late-model SUV in front of us. I strained against the seat-belt until the car came to a complete stop at the light.

“You're directionless, son. I just want to know that you know who you are and what you want out of life.”

I shrugged, the back of my hand going to the hot glass of the window, even though the A/C was up full blast. I wanted a direction for my life too. The problem was that I had never really seen myself as anything. Especially, now that mum packed my ass up and moved me to Texas.

I was half human and half demon, but the main problem is that I look Japanese. My father was a Japanese Oni, sort of an ogre-like creature although they're classified as a demon. When demons and humans have kids, they look like mixed-race humans from whatever part of the world the demon comes from.

With my father's demon blood in my veins, I looked like a minority. By Texas' bigoted standards, no one would hire a Nip. Don't know that word? I didn't either until some redneck slung it at me from his pickup truck and I Googled it.

“You got quiet,” Mum said, sensing a shift in my mood.

“I don't think there are many opportunities for me here,” I said as flatly as I could.

“It's a college town during the summer, someone has to be hiring.” Her tone went gentle, reminding me of the times she would find me in the tree house at my grandmother's with fight-bites on both knuckles. I swallowed against the helplessness it sparked in me, knowing that would make me angrier than anything any dumb hick could say.

Her hand found the side of my head, giving my hair a light straightening. “You're horns are showing, Luv,” She said gently.

I opened the mirror in the visor. Two boney horns had started to poke up through my hair. I put my hand over them, thumb on one, middle finger on the other.

“What got you so angry?” Mum asked, hand going low on my thigh, near my knee, for a quick pat before she returned it to the steering wheel.

“Nothing,” I grumbled. Or tried to, it came out as a growl. I was close to going demon right here in mum's nice new car. My horns didn't seem to be receding, either. The dark red ring around my iris had started to eat away at the brown. Any minute now, my pupils would elongate like a cat's. At least my fucking skin hadn't changed color. This time.