Blood Magic

2: Deadman's Wonderland

.^^ the Underland ^^

— James Athenos Peterson —

My first impression of my sperm donor was mixed. He seemed like a cool guy, but my predisposition was to hate him, because he'd never been a part of my life. Mum had said he hadn't wanted children, and that's why he never wrote or called, but he said he'd always wanted children.

The pictures on the walls, of who I could only assume was his family, further gave proof to that fact. As I had studied a few courses on Psychology in my preparatory school, I knew that the seemingly random things he kept around the house, despite his professed OCD, were all things that a younger generation would like.

That left three options: Child Predator, Recently Deceased Child, or Wishful for a family.

His reaction to seeing a child on his doorstep removed option one easily, and his file said he hadn't had a child, before, and he was listed as FOR, (father on record,) for only one child, me. The similarities in our names, and his physical appearance, nearly identical to mine, further cemented the truth.

I wasn't sure why mother had lied, but perhaps she just thought I would stop looking for him, if I thought he didn't want to be found. But I was stubborn, so when the agency said I had to stay with a relative, I seized the chance to finally meet him.

We sat in relative silence for a while, after Jane left. He cooked lunch, making odd little taco things with fluffy bread he called 'Yeeros', apparently a part of his cultural cuisine. Mine was made with only vegetables, though he left some lamb for me to take, if I wanted.

I tasted some of it, and found it different from beef, and much tastier than pork, so I ate what he'd left, and then ate my 'Yeero'.

Afterwards, he showered, and then offered to show me his little portion of the city.

He lived in an up-scale neighborhood in the middle of the city, right next to the financial district, surrounded by beautiful brownstones like his, but his was the only one with little solar panels on the roof, and a wind-turbine as well.

As we were next to the financial district, I knew his house, easily twice the size of most I was used to, must be worth a fortune.

"Are you rich or something?" I asked bluntly, as we walked down the street. (He'd finally put on a tank-top, which matches his jeans and sandals. He certainly didn't look rich.)

He snorted. "Nah. I just did a few free surgeries for the old owner. Gave me the real estate as a thank you. And my customers pay in... odd ways. Not everyone can pay money."

"Ahhh... so that's where the stuff in the junk room comes from." I nodded. He didn't seem like much of a gamer.

He grinned. "Exactly. Maybe later I'll show you my collection of vintage vinyls. I have one, Beatles, 1956, worth quite a pretty penny. So I suppose I am rich, I just haven't sold any of it. Don't really need the money."

"Seriously?" I asked.

He shrugged. "My bills are paid for by my clients, I have enough cash to buy myself food and gas... pretty easy, really. I don't need much."

I shook my head and looked ahead. "Figures..."

He frowned. "Don't blame me, child. Don't you dare."

I sighed. "If you're telling the truth, it makes total sense. I just can't figure out why mum would lie to me."

He shook his head, looking honestly confused. "Neither can I... she knew I wanted kids. She knew I would have been overjoyed, knowing she was pregnant. I don't know. Maybe she thought I wouldn't be able to provide for you? No, I made decent money, even back then. Maybe not awesome, but more than I needed. I can't think of a good enough reason. I've been trying, ever since you walked in my door."