Dragon Kin

01

Ben stopped, and looked us over, "I think you're right. Isn't that something?"

Oma didn't stop, she continued across the street with me in tow. She was shorter than I was, and a bit heavy around the middle. For being near seventy, however, she had a strong presence. Her gray hair was up in her silk wrap, and her dress hung on her with a flowing grace.

We got to the other side of the street, and I thought that would be the end, but Ben had other ideas.

Running across the street, to place himself in front of us again, he said, "I've always wondered something about you folks. You never date outside your little group. Are you all related? Now, don't get me wrong, inbreeding ain't nothing new in the South. Hell, you could say it's a form of family duty in some parts."

Oma stopped again, and this time she glared at Ben. "Will you please step aside, and let us go to our home?"

I put my hand in the pocket of my skirt and found my Kitty-Cat Key-chain — which were brass knuckles if you put your fingers through the eye-holes.

"Why you being like this maw maw? You mistake me for a felon of some kind," Ben said, his smile wide with lots of teeth.

"No I don't," Oma said, but now her voice was much lower. Nearly a growl. "I don't mistake you. I know you, and you're kin." She put her finger under her eye, and pulled down the lower lid, while rolling her eye up and back so that it showed only the white parts in the dimly lit street. "I know you Benjamin. Know you for a Thorn. Elder brother to Katty. Son of Bart Thorn, you are."

"Oh man!" howled Ismael. "She's using the eye on you Ben. Just leave them lone. They ain't got nothing worth a hex."

"Shut up, Ismael! Ain't no Enedral going to hex me." Then he turned back to Oma, "Are you woman? You don't mean me no harm."

"Don't I? No, no I don't. I can see your palm. No need to be fooling with the likes of you," Oma said, her voice rasping now. "Now you just get yourself out of my way."

Ben moved faster than I could think. He pounced forward, his right arm pulled back to backhand Oma, and all I could do was watch. It was too fast. His face twisted into a mask of viciousness. He let his fist fly at her. I regained my wit and lunged forward to put myself between them.

There was a rushing sound. The smell of cool leather.

And then he was gone.

In my mind I could still hear the sound of rushing wind across canvas, and then Ben simply wasn't there any more.

Without missing a beat, Oma turned, and glared her eye at Ismael.

"No, no no no, don't you be hexing me. I didn't do nothin to you!" he said, stepping back, and pulling what looked like a crow's foot on a leather loop out from inside his shirt. "I won't hex easy! I won't!" he cried, holding that awful thing out in front of him like we were vampires and him the clergy.

"Then get'cha out of here!" Oma barked.

Ismael ran.

I watched him go, and then turned back to find Oma was breathing hard and out of steam. Putting my arm around her, I guided us to a bus stop bench and let her sit down.

"Oh, that was close," she said. "Not so young any more."

"What did you do to that man?" I asked, still looking around. I even looked up to the roofs of the buildings – not that he could have gone up there – but where else could he be?

"Who? Ben? No idea," she said. "But I've been around long enough to know that when you're playing the hex card, you don't let anything surprise you. Everything has to look like it's part of the plan."

"Did his palm say he would die soon?" I asked, still looking around — not really sure what I was looking for now or what his palm had to do with anything.

Oma laughed. "Never seen a stronger heart-line and life-line in my life. That man should have lived until he was ninety and died in his sleep — how's that for justice?"

Glancing back at her I asked, "You think he's ... dead?"

"No idea. But folks don't normally vanish into the night for good reasons. It's not a thing that happens which is followed by hot-chocolate and cookies. I suspect that whatever took him, hasn't any respect for the life and heart lines on his palm. Or worries about those authorities at all."

And then the night began to open up. A group of five people came out of a bar on the next block, three men and two women. Another man came out of the corner store with a cup of coffee and a snack of some kind. With activity on the street, I helped Oma up and started us toward home again, occasionally looking around, and into the sky.

Something took that man. Something fast, and powerful. Something so strong, it snatched that full grown man off the sidewalk like it was picking a flower from the lawn. Something took that man.