Omens (wattys2016)

Twenty.

     The house is too quiet. Having grown up in Manhattan, followed by countless years at the shelter, I am used to falling asleep to the sounds of cars speeding by. The steady honk of horns as drivers cut each other off. Out here, in the sleepy suburbs of outer Portland, the silence is so thick there isn't even the slow chirp of crickets.

     I woke up in the same room I remember being in when I first arrived at the house, bloody and half dead. The clothes I had been wearing at work were still on me, ruined and clinging to my skin. There were bags laid neatly next to the bed, the items Jackson and Max had managed to bring from the shelter. They had gotten almost all of my clothes, the faded pictures of my family, my school supplies and my Ipod. Someone, Jackson I assume, had plugged it into the wall to charge. I rummaged through the clothes but was unable to find any of my hoodies. I settled for a large band shirt and a pair of ripped jeans.

     Wandering the halls I had successfully chosen the correct door, opening it to reveal a large bathroom. I had showered quickly, washing away the blood and dirt from last nights events. I had watched the tinged water swirl around the drain, wondering how my life had managed to change so drastically in just a matter of a few weeks. Months ago I would have never imagined I would be standing here, in a house full of supernatural hunters, having just survived an attack  by a demon of all things.

     I creep down the stairs, stomach growling angrily. I have no idea what time it is and I cannot remember the last time I ate. Possibly some time yesterday at lunch. Usually I would be worried about being late to school but it is still pitch black outside, so I must have only been asleep for a few hours.

     Opening the fridge I am instantly thankful that nothing but constantly moving men live here. It is stocked to the brim with a variety of meats, cheeses, fruits and juices. I make myself a sandwich, sitting on one of the stools placed next to the island. I devour the food embarrassingly fast, thankful no one is here to witness this.

     The light flips on in the room and I freeze mid-step. Max stands at the entrance to the kitchen, half dressed and rubbing lazily at his eyes. He smiles upon seeing me, grabbing the sandwich essentials from my hands and spreading them out on the wide marble island. He pulls the stool out next to him, motioning me over.

     "How are you feeling there Sparky?" he asks, cramming half the sandwich into his mouth in one bite.

     "Sparky?" I raise my eyebrow at him, slathering a piece of bread with mayonnaise. I was going to stop after one sandwich but my stomach has other plans.

     "Yea, I think it suits you." I smile a bit, never having been close enough with a person to even earn a nickname. Well, aside from Daphne. Guilt tugs at me and I realize I never called Daphne after work like I promised. Hopefully she didn't go by the shelter and realize I never came back. I make a mental note to myself to apologize to her later at school. I'd have to lie of course, tell her I lost my phone or something. Definitely leave out the part where I am now living with a house full of guys. She'd have way too much fun with that and I am not so sure Gabriel would be okay with my bringing her here. 

     "I'm okay I guess," I reply, "I mean, I'm a bit sore but nothing like I expected. Feels more like I spent too many hours at the gym, instead of being turned into a chew toy by a demon. Jeez, I can add that to the list of things I never thought I'd say."

     Max laughs, cleaning up the mess we both made. He swats my hand away as I reach for the knife, trying to help him.

     "Sorry about the other day," I say, realizing I never apologized for zapping him, "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

     "No biggie. It wasn't as bad as it looked. Don't get me wrong, hurt like hell, but afterwards it wasn't so bad. I was dizzy for a few days but nothing too severe. Gabriel's just a bit overprotective. He's spent the last few years raising us and I guess it's made him a bit of a grouch." He turns the sink on, washing the dishes and I finally have a chance to get a good look at him without him noticing. I tried not to stare earlier, not wanting to come across as creepy, but his skin is covered in the same amount of ink as Jackson's. The designs on him are different, symbols rather than large swirls. Large scars cover the untouched parts of his back, obvious battle scars from years of hunting. I wonder how dangerous the job really is.

     "How old is Gabriel?" I ask, "How old are you? Sorry, it's just...you guys already know so much about me, about my situation and I don't know anything about you."

     "Twenty-five," Max answers, "Liam and I are twenty. Not much of an age difference but enough to where Gabriel feels the need to father us all. What exactly has Jackson told you about us?"

     "Close to nothing." Max turns the sink off and take his seat back on the stool, this time facing me. He looks so much older than twenty. They all look older and I wonder if it's from years of having to carry the weight of so much responsibility. I can barely handle homework and work, let alone knowing that it's my job to protect people from things that shouldn't exists.

     "Our parents all died at the same time," he says, checking out the room to make sure we are still alone, "The same night actually. My parents had dropped us off here before they went out on a raid. Gabriel was in charge of watching us, as he had been so many times before. They were gone for hours, longer than usual, but no one was really worried. We all figured they had lost track of time and forgotten to check in. Gabriel was the one who got the call, the one telling us our parents had died. That was it. No explanation. Just a phone call from one of the other hunters that our parents and his hadn't made it out of the raid. It was all a big blur after that. I spent all of my time consoling Liam. Don't get me wrong, he's tough as nails, but he took it pretty hard. Gabriel somehow managed to convince Asher to let him take guardianship over us. He was eighteen so I guess there wasn't much to argue about. Our stuff arrived a few days later and the rest is history. It's not much of a story. I just figured it might help you feel more comfortable here, knowing you're not alone. Jax told us about what happened to your parents. About what happened to you. I didn't think it was as bad as he made it out to be but, last night, I saw them. The scars from the attack. No wonder why you seem so jumpy. I would be too. It's just...you're gonna be here awhile and it will all go a little smoother if you realize that you can trust us."

     "Thank you," I whisper quietly. I'm not sure what I am thanking him for. Maybe for saving me. Maybe for not treating me like I am some kind of strange creature. Maybe for telling me that story, for telling me that I'm not alone. Maybe it's all three. Either way, I feel like I owe him a great deal of thanks.

     Max nods his head, yawning as he hops off the stool. He pads quietly out of the room, stopping where the kitchen branches off into the hall. I hear him sigh heavily, his back still turned to me.

     "Gabriel means well," he states, "He really does. He just wants to keep us safe, ya know? We're the only family he has left. Not knowing what you are, well frankly, I think it scares him a little. Jax is a smart kid though. So if he believes that you aren't evil, that you are going to slaughter us all in our sleep, then I have no reason not to believe him. He's saved my ass more times than I care to admit and I owe him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you, we all have. There's obviously something going on between you two."

     "It's not what you think," I argue, "What you saw earlier...it isn't what you think it is."

     "Look," he cuts me off, "I could stand here all night listening to you come up with creative ways to explain what I walked in on but, quite frankly, it's late and I have a feeling tomorrow isn't going to be as laid back as I would have hoped. I told you guys earlier, I'm not going to tell Gabriel what I saw. I've known Jackson his whole life and never once have I seen his disobey an order. So the fact that he is willing to risk pissing Gabriel off, well that tells me that whatever he is feeling for you goes way beyond just trying to get some. Now, with that being said, should you turn out to be some kind of psycho who is just pretending to be hopeless until she finds the perfect moment to attack, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your skull. Sleep tight!"

     I sit there for a few more minutes, trying to figure out whether I'm insulted or complimented. He doesn't think I'm evil. He doesn't think I'm a freak. Granted, he did threaten to shoot me in the head, but all things considered...I don't blame him. Hell, if it turns out that I am pure evil that could snap and go on a killing spree, I would willingly step in front of that bullet.

     I sneak back upstairs, hesitating at the beginning of the hall. I have no idea which room is Jackson's and I fight the urge to check each one until I find him. My hand stops short of turning the first handle, realizing that one of these houses Gabriel. He already hates me, I really don't need to give him more reasons to add to his list.