Paying the Piper

Twenty-Three, Part 1: The Fickleness of Fate

It was an odd thing, contemplating the fact that you weren't supposed to be alive. He figured plenty of others had reason to experience such a thought and the weird emotions it evoked, but of those people, how many could say they were alive because their dad had made a deal with the devil?

Did he actually have reason to think his father had done him a favor?

And if he wasn't supposed to have lived from all the complications of his early birth, cerebral palsy, and his mom developing preeclampsia, what would happen to him if the demon was, say, destroyed? Would Quentin simply drop dead if the owner of his magical boon disappeared?

Maybe he had already lived for longer than he was supposed to. He figured it was slightly more reassuring than proving that the murders and disappearances in the Potomah were related to him, as he had initially thought. They were related to Faye instead, and he was simply a side character who had played out his role longer than he should have.

"Can we not confront Dad tonight about the conversation we just had?"

Quentin blinked, brought back to the present by Ryland's question. "Huh? Oh, yeah. It's a little much to do any more talking about it tonight. And actually, I want to be there to talk with Henry about it." There were simply so many questions he had that he'd regret it if he didn't actually hold the conversation on it, even if he didn't enjoy talking to his father.

Ryland let out a breath. "Good, because I don't think I could do it by myself."

Plenty of unspoken words plumped that sentence, but Quentin didn't address them. Instead, he held up his hand.

"Yagsog," he said. Pinky swear, Korean style. Ryland found Quentin's pinky in the dark, hooked it with his, and then "sealed" the promise by making their thumbs touch while their pinkies were still linked.

"Yagsog," Ryland replied.

Still, by the next morning, he was regretting making even a child-like promise as yagsog. Ryland had popped into his room, where he was gaming, and said their dad was making breakfast. As in, now-would-be-a-good-time-to-have-that-conversation breakfast.

Quentin groaned, then moaned anew when his character exploded on the screen. This boss battle was absurdly difficult.

Ryland was straightening things on Quentin's table, as it already looked to be a feat of antigravity that all the books hadn't crashed to the ground yet. While he was doing that, one book did fall to the floor, landing open to pages that seemed creased and pressed flat so that the spine would forever open there rather than remain shut.

Quentin glanced at him as his character reloaded, and it took him until Ryland frowned and began flipping through the book to realize what book his brother held.

"Put that down!"

Ryland's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Why do you have Faye's journal?" The cover page clearly showed Faye Wulfgaar written inside, as Ryland held it up for Quentin's view.

There was no good response to a question like that, especially not the truth: Because I shape-shifted into a fox, sneaked into her house, and stole it to see if I could find some reason to force her to move away again.

"It must've gotten mixed with my things. You know, because Rhia and I are always exchanging books." It was a bad lie, but Quentin was a terrible liar anyway.

"Did you spread the rumors at school about her being expelled from her last school?"

"What? No. It was in the paper." Quentin at least could be honest about that. He had intended to spread the rumors, but he had changed his mind.