Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 9 - Brains of Yolk and Eggshell

Late? Really? Why, I had no idea. Must've lost track of time. My watch broke, see. Yeah. Totally. You guys believe that, right?

"Hi, Dad," I said, trying to sound soothing. This looked like one of his fits, so the most important thing was not to upset him.

But he crowed like a bird and spread his arms out wide. "Look, boy! Looks! Jeff has food and Jeff has home and Jeff has food and —"

"This isn't home," I interrupted before he could get into rhythm. And that, I wanted to add, is not food. No wonder New Dawn Pack had been running from him.

"Of coursh it ish! We live here. We lives here, yes we do, blood of mine. The wolfies can't be going in Jeff's home, oh no. Jeff don't likes it. Jeff make their red spill." A sly grin slid onto his face. "Jeff kills the wolfie prey, yesh, he did."

The third-person speech wound me up, as always, and I couldn't even explain why. "Dad, think. You are Jeff. He's not a different person."

He laughed at me, a twisting, grating laugh. "Stupid, stupid boy, you ish. Jeff isn't me and I'm not Jeff."

That snatched all the words from my mouth. The air suddenly felt thin, and I could sense Eira frowning through the link. "Ric, do you think—"

"STOP WHISPERING," Dad roared. He flung the bone at us — it skimmed my shin, leaving a sharp pain and a line of crimson in its wake — and clamped his hands over his ears, as if that would help. Eira went as tense as a drawn bowstring.

I put my hands out, palms facing down. Careful, careful now... "It's just our link, okay? No one is whispering."

"Jeff knows what Jeff hears, boy, Jeff knows. The voices are always whishpering. Always. Sometimes they wants me to do nashty things, but I knows better than that, yesh. So Jeff does the nashty things instead." He started cackling after that sentence, and he didn't stop until he'd made himself hoarse.

Eira tapped my shoulder and stood on tiptoes to whisper in my ear. Actual whispering didn't bother Dad, just link 'whispering.' "I'm going to get our stuff from the hut. He's obviously comfortable here, so we'll stay. See if you can calm him down in the meantime."

I nodded along. I didn't blame her for leaving. Eira had always found it difficult seeing Dad at his worst, probably because she had been closest to him when he was sane.
They'd gotten along beautifully before ... this.

She cast a long, worried glance at Dad and promised, "One hour."

"Make it two," I suggested, "and find us some dinner while you're at it."

Better she stayed away until Dad was entirely calm. Better she didn't have to see those bones ever again. Better that I could still protect her from some things, whether she realised it or not.

"Dinner?" Eira hissed, on eyebrow cocked. "I think Dad has eaten already, don't you?"

The volume made me wince and I had to gesture roughly in his direction. "Lower your voice, Eira."

"Yes, Eira. Shut up, Eira," Dad agreed jovially. But there was an edge of real menace beneath the words which made both of us pause. Had he heard her comment? Did he actually care what we thought of him?

The look on my sister's face would have terrified a thunderstorm, let alone poor mortal me. Somehow, she managed to rein in that legendary temper enough to choose her next words more carefully. "Cannibalism, Ric? Are we okay with cannibalism now?"

Oh, Goddess — she actually wanted to have this discussion right in front of Dad. If anything was going to set him off, it would be this, but I struggled to care. There was something about a sibling argument which got your blood up irrevocably.