Mythfits

16-Steve

"Steve!" my head shoots up at Mom's strangled cry- the tone she uses when I have done something very, very wrong. Briefly, I consider not responding; possibly shifting into a bat and flying out the window, but I quickly dismiss the idea- if mom truly is mad at me, there is nothing on earth that I can do to avoid her wrath. It is far better to face it now than deal with the serious repercussions later. Even still, I cast a longing backwards glance at the open window as I exit the room and make my way down the stairs to where my certain demise awaits me in the form of one very peeved vampire.

"Yes mom?" I venture, not necessarily wanting to know what I'd done this time. It honestly could have been one of some dozen 'failures' I had supposedly accomplished in the past week; trying out for the soccer team yet again (against my parents wishes no less!), left my pineapple peelings on the counter for Mom's vampire friends to notice and inquire about (to her great embarrassment, supposedly), letting Ethan eat his class pets...

"You had a werewolf in the house?!?!?" Oh yeah, or that. Wincing, I steel myself for the lecture I know in in my near future, and make a mental not to kill Ethan later- that little snitch, "You let a werewolf in the hose? Alone? What were you thinking? Of all the stupid..... What was going through that dense head of yours?" Mom berates me, her expression pure fury.

Hoping to dispel some of the anger, or at least dissipate it away from me, I shrug, not trusting my composure enough to respond with, you know, actual words. As opposed to my standard, nonverbal vague motions and silent mental responses that make me glad that mind-reading is not an ability of vampires.

"Steve!" Mom tries to calm herself down, not yelling but instead sounding like a strangled cat. She takes a deep breath, "The whole house vibes of mutt and your grandfather is arriving in a few days."

I nodded along with her words, but jerk my head up when she mentions Grandfather, "Grandfather is arriving in a few days?" Now it's my turn to sound like a strangled cat.

Pretending as if I had never spoken, Mom carries on, "It will be your responsibility to clear the aura of this house of all taints of werewolf. If not, it will also be your responsibility to explain to Grandfather why you willingly allowed a mangy mutt inside the house."
I gulp- trying to envision a scenario in which I tell that to Grandfather that doesn't involve me gutted or shunned from society, or something equally horrifying, perhaps even more so- being tasked with babysitting Ethan and my cousins.

"Yes Mom." I bow my head in submission, accepting my consequences and waiting for the metaphorical storm to pass. Thankfully, my yielding nature pays off and Mom soon stops drilling holes in my head with her eyes and lets me leave.

Up in the study, I unfurl the map a witch had given my Mother once for her birthday. It was a layout of the house and a diagram of the surrounding aura. Confirming Mom's suspicion of a 'tainted' aura, the normally red aura around the house tinged with a tan-brown color. Sighing, I pick up the pink eraser and start rubbing. When the map was created, it was linked to the aura, so what was done to the map was home to the aura. Unfortunately, this resulted in having to erase the drawing for hours to clear the aura. However unpleasant this was, it is still far better than the traditional blood sacrifice to cleanse the house.

Resigning myself to getting nothing done all day, I put in my earbuds, turn my music way up, and start erasing.

-----

Hours later, my hand sore and cramped from erasing, I finally find Ethan and smack him upside the head. "Ow! Hey!" Ethan complains, "What was that for?"

I snort, "You know full well what that was for, you twerp. Thanks a lot for ratting me out to Mom."

"Hey, I didn't rat you out!" he denies all my accusations with a shake of the head, "But even if she didn't know, Grandfather would have. And would you rather be in trouble from mom or grandfather."

Even as I mentally acknowledge his point, I would never admit it out loud, instead opting for a final smack and go to my room to do something involving not moving, like sleeping. Yes, sleeping sounds like just the right activity for me at this moment......

-----

Ba-ding! Ba-ding! Ding! Ding! A series of emails causes my computer to blow up with notifications, the high pitched pinging forcing me awake.

"Alright, alright!" I mutter, scrambling for my mouse, "Let's see what we've got."

Scrolling through my inbox, I skim the email- good to finally hear from you, blah, blah, fascinating text- where did you find it, blah, blah, I would love a full copy, blah, blah, and results! Clara provided a few translations, along with her notes and opinions on each. Looking through them, nothing made sense, but I figured either Ella or Christine would understand them better than I could. Wonderful.

I print out the pages, and review some of the spells; Illusion, fox fire, transformation, possession, weather manipulation, etc. Most of this stuff seemed pretty powerful, but perhaps a younger kitsune's spells had a weaker effect. Mostly, I just hope that Ella is unable to work any of these, as I do not wish to be set on fire or turned into a rock.

Folding up the paper, I stuff them in my backpack to give to Ella at school the next day. "Dinner!" mom calls, and I stay silent, hoping to skip out on awkward family conversations and watching Ethan play with his hamsters before eating them. "Steve! You too!" The cry echoes up the stairs as I begrudgingly drag myself downstairs and sit at the table.

"So Ethan," Mom asks, daintily sipping from her mouse, "How was your day at school, sweetie?"

Ethan shrugs, more interested in forcing his hamster to dance than answering mom's questions.

"Ethan, stop playing with your food and answer me!" Mom snaps, on edge from a stressful day at work and dealing with her rebellious teenage son. Sorry mom.

Setting down his rodent with mock politeness, Ethan smiles sweetly, "Of course, mom. How rude of me. My day at school was exceptionally pleasant and productive."

"Alright, punk." I mutter, "No need to over do it."

Mom smacks me lightly on the arm, "And you, Steve, how was your day at school?" she asks, the look in her eye broadcasting loud and clear that she wanted to have us hurry up with the formalities and head off to bed so she could have some me-time.

Trying to look as if I was perfectly happy to be included in the conversation, I smile just as pleasantly as Ethan, "Why it was absolutely wonderful."

"Great." Mom claps her hands, "Alright you two, off to your rooms."
All too happy to comply, I snag the jar of peanut butter and a bag of doritos from the kitchen counter and disappeared upstairs into my room.

Ethan, however, is none too happy to be told what to do, "But, but, mom!" He complains, dragging his feet.

"None of that now." Mom ushers him up the stairs

"Come on!" Ethan stomps off to his room, where I hear him crash around for a bit before settling down in a presumably broody lump to do whatever moody little brothers do.