#andaali

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Of the bad ideas he’dhatched, this was getting close to the worst of Kostas’ new career. His bestfriend Andaali assured him of that fact as the two parked the massive, sleeksedan from the undertaker on a brightly lit street. First of all, Andi hadn’t realizedthat Kostas had taught himself how to drive.

Second, this was no placefor two teenage boys wearing their fathers’ suits.

“We can still go home and noone will find out,”Andi whispered, peering over the door frame toward the club’srumbling entrance. Even out on the street, the loud music thumped at the car.

Kostas, with a determinedgrip to his jaw reminiscent of both parents, thrust the parking brake. “I haveto do this, Andi. He won’t let me out on my own, and you saw, I can’t even goto hockey anymore. If I don’t do something I’m going to—” The slim youth bangedhis fist on the car dashboard. For a moment, he worried of denting it, but thestubborn look returned a beat later. He’d dare his father’s ire.

Next to him, Andaalifretted. He didn’t know exactly why Kostas had changed, why he was so frustrated sincehis father took him out of the home. Kostas had been thrilled, but nervous to have a family again. Now he was a boiling ball of restless energy.

“Kostas…” Andaali began. “Ilost my mom too, it’ll be okay.”

Unable to stop the sheen oftears welling in his eyes, Kostas looked away. “Yeah… I know Andi. But your dadwill at least show you pictures of her.”

The boys sat inuncomfortable, sad silence for a moment, listening to the thunderous music fromthe club outside. Kostas battled his grief, dismissing his pain as weakness ashe reached for the sedan door.

He stopped in shock when herealized a huge shadow stood outside. Kostas’ eyes turned up, and then up alittle more and he still couldn’t see the man’s face. A huge, semi-rotted handlanguidly spun a finger, indicating that he should roll the window down.

Gulping, Kostas did.Andaali, struck mute, sank into his seat.

A muscled, suited man thatKostas recognized as one of the Risen leaned down. “No parking here, boys,”Hadeon grumbled. Of course, the Ebon recognized the undertaker’s car. There was no one elseit could belong to, but he’d approached with extreme caution after noting thatthe driver looked a bit too small to be Stavros. He didn’t recognize the youth,except for a small feature here and there that seemed familiar.

“Sorry sir,” Kostas mumbledand avoided the icy gaze.

“Go home.”

“Yes sir.” Kostas fumbledfor the key and the sedan roared to life. He started to gun away, and thenyanked the parking brake free after he started to smell burnt rubber.

In the miasma of smoke leftbehind, Hadeon rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

A lean boy with massive hooves, out of balance compared to the rest of his still-maturing body, hunkered down in his hockey pads. He watched down to the other end of the ice, which had been cut up beneath the skates of energetic adolescents for the last hour. The grooves rumbled beneath his blades as he drifted backwards.

Beside him, at the other end of the blue line, his fellow defenseman smacked his hockey stick on the ice and straightened. The horn blew and signaled the end of the game.

The big-hoofed boy skated over to the scorekeeper's box, where the eager buzzer-blower grinned back at him, and beads rattled against her horns when she stood. He placed his glove on the glass. She touched back with her mitten on the other side. "See you guys outside the locker room!" the girl called.

He nodded and smiled.

Filing off the ice with the other boys, the second defenseman teased the first, "No kissing through the glass this time, Andi? Everything okay between the two of you?"

"We're fine, Kostas. Mind your own tail."

The second boy laughed and hopped off the ice. Later, the three younglings convened in the indicated place, the two taller ones burdened by heavy packs full of hockey pads.

"Your dad said he'd be right back, then he's going to give us a ride." The girl hung on Andi's arm, glad that it seemed like he'd at least scampered past a shower beforehand. Something about smelly teenagers overpowered other hormones on occasion.

"Okay."

Kostas's gaze drifted over the ice and around the rink. No one came to watch him, specifically, ever. Though it felt nice when the two tried to include him.

"Did you want to go with us?" Andi prompted his friend, seeing the look, and dependable as always.

The other boy shook his head. "I'll just catch the train back to the home."

"Aw, but we're going to get pasta," the girl entreated.

Two restless, growing stomachs grumbled in anticipation. "If Mister Pale says it's okay." Kostas continued to gaze about, never quite sure what he was looking for - always something. He spotted a stranger up in the seats. A man with a long coat and hat pulled down to cover his crest and eyes. Knitting his brows, Kostas turned away when Jakaaro, Andi's father, shambled toward the group.

"You played a good game, boys. Is everyone ready to go?" the Broken wheezed and tried to grin. It faltered.

"It was! Can Kostas come to dinner with us? Please?" the girl tapped her hooves together and gave her best convincing face.

Jakaaro looked at the second boy. "Of course he can," he replied, kind. Feeding one hungry adolescent strained the pocketbook. Three threatened to shred it completely, but Jakaaro couldn't say no to someone who had no family to go home to. He knew how that felt.

A twinge of relief came over Kostas, and he followed Andi and the others out of the rink. When he glanced back toward the man in the seats, the stranger was gone.