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“Astral…?”
“Leave their bodies. Move around like a ghost. Cool for cheating on tests or sneaking into the girls' locker room… for guys who'd do that kind of thing…”
“Uh-?huh. You said Derek knows more about half- demons. Is that what he is?”
He glanced toward the hall, head turning as if making sure he could still hear the water running.
“You dragged it out of me, okay?”
“Huh?”
He turned onto his side, moving close enough to brush my leg. His voice dropped. “About Derek. What he is. If he asks, you dragged it out of me. ”
I straightened, annoyance flickering. “So Derek doesn't want me to know what he is? The same guy who threw necromancer in my face and demanded I accept it. If he doesn't want—”
“He does. He will. It's just… complicated. If you don't ask, he won't tell you. But if you ask…”
His eyes lifted to mine, pleading with me to make this easy.
I sighed. “Fine, I'm asking. What's Derek? One of these half-?demon things?”
“No. There's not really a name for what he is. I guess you could call it the superman gene, but that's really cheesy. ”
“Uh-?huh. ”
“Which is why they don't call it that. Guys like Derek have… physical enhancements, you might say. Extra strong, as you saw. Better senses, too. That kind of thing. ”
I glanced at the math text. “Smarter?”
“Nah, that's just Derek. Or so my dad says. ”
“Your dad's a… sorcerer, too, then, I guess. So he knows others… like us?”
“Yeah. Supernaturals have a kind of community. Maybe network is a better word. You know others so you can talk to them, get things you can't get from the regular world, whatever. My dad used to be right into it. These days, not so much. Stuff… happened. ”
He went quiet for a moment, plucking at a loose thread on the comforter, then he dropped it and flopped onto his back again. “We'll get into all that later. Huge story. Short answer is, yes, Dad used to be into the whole supernatural network. He worked for this research company, supernatural doctors and scientists trying to make things easier for other supernaturals. Dad's a lawyer, but they needed people like that, too. Anyway, that's how we got Derek. ”
“Got Derek?”
Simon made a face. “That didn't come out right. Sounds like Dad brought home a stray puppy. But that's kind of how it was. See, Derek's type? It's rare. We're all rare, but he's really, really rare. These people, the ones my dad worked for, they were raising him. He'd been orphaned or abandoned or something when he was just a baby, and they wanted to make sure he didn't end up in some human foster home, which would be bad when he hit, like, twelve and started throwing people across the room. Only, my dad's company wasn't really equipped to raise a kid. Derek doesn't talk much about living there, but I think it was like growing up in a hospital. My dad didn't like that, so they let him bring Derek home. It was… weird. Like he'd never been out before. Things like school or a shopping mall or even a highway totally freaked him out. He wasn't used to people, all that noise—”
He went still, head turning toward the hall. The pipes clanked as the water shut off.
“Later,” he mouthed.
“He just got out. He can't hear—”
“Oh yes, he can. ”
I remembered what Simon said about Derek's “enhanced senses. ” Now I understood why Derek always seemed to be able to hear things he shouldn't have been able to. I made a mental note to be more careful.
I cleared my throat, pitching it to normal. “Okay, so we've got sorcerers, witches, half-?demons, necromancers, shamans, and other really rare types, like Derek. That's it, right? I'm not going to run into any werewolves or vampires, am I?”
He laughed. “That'd be cool. ”
Cool, maybe, but I was happy to leave werewolves and vampires to Hollywood. I could believe in magic and ghosts and even spirit travel, but turning into an animal or sucking blood stretched disbelief farther than I cared to.
A dozen questions leaped to my lips. Where was their father? What about the people his dad worked for? Why'd he leave them? What about Simon's mother? But Simon said he'd “get into that later. ” To demand their personal story now would be prying.
“So there are three of us? In one place? That has to mean something. ”
“Derek thinks it's because some supernatural powers—like yours and his—can't be explained, so humans chalk them up to mental illness. Some kids in homes could be supernatural. Most aren't. You have to talk to him about that. He explains stuff better. ”
“Okay, back to me, then. What do these ghosts want?”
He shrugged. “Help, I guess. ”
“With what? Why me?”
“Because you can hear them,” Derek said as he walked in, towel-?drying his hair. “Not much sense in talking to someone who can't hear you. ”
“Well, duh. ”
“I wasn't going to say it. ”
I glared at him, but he had his back to me, neatly folding the towel and hanging it on the desk chair.
He continued. “How many necromancers do you think are walking around out there?”
“How would I know?”
“Well, if the answer was 'a whole lot,' don't you think you'd have heard of them?”
“Ease up, bro,” Simon murmured.
“We're talking hundreds in the whole country. ” Derek yanked a comb through his hair. “Have you ever met an albino?”
“No. ”
“Statistically speaking, you're about three times more likely to bump into an albino than a necromancer. So, imagine you're a ghost. If you see a necro, it's like being stranded on a desert island, then spotting a plane overheard. Are you going to try to get their attention? Of course. As for what they want?” He turned the desk chair around and straddled it. “Who knows? If you were a ghost and you bumped into the one living being who could hear you, I'm sure you'd want something from her. To know what they want, you're going to need to ask them. ”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered.
I told them about the ghost in the basement.
“There could still be something back there. Something you didn't find. Something important to him. “ He idly scratched his cheek, winced, and pulled his hand back. ”Maybe a paper or an object he'd like you to pass onto his family. "
“Or clues to his murder,” Simon said. “Or buried treasure. ”
Derek fixed him with a look, then shook his head. “Moving right along… it's probably something stupid, like a letter he forgot to give to his wife. Meaningless. ”
That didn't sound stupid to me. Or meaningless. Kind of romantic, really. The ghost lingers for years, wanting to pass along that undelivered letter to his wife, now an old woman in a nursing home… Not my kind of movie, but I wouldn't call it stupid.
“Whatever it is,” I said, “the point is moot because as long as I'm on these pills, I can't make contact to ask. ”
Derek swiped at a drop of blood on his cheek, where he'd scratched a zit. He scowled with annoyance, letting it bubble over into his voice as he snapped, “Then you need to stop taking the pills. ”
“Love to. If I could. But after what happened last night, they're giving me urine tests now. ”
“Ugh. That's harsh. ” Simon went quiet, then snapped his fingers. “Hey, I've got an idea. It's kinda gross, but what if you take the pills, crush them and mix them with your, you know, urine. ”
Derek stared at him.
“What?”
