Page 6 of Icarus

“Oh shit, it’s after school?! I’ve gotta get to practice!” Celestina exclaimed. She frantically gathered the blanket and shoved it back into its pack. Icarus rubbed his face and curled up until he could rest his cheek on his knees as she scrambled.

“I’m sorry,” Icarus said reflexively.

Celestina stopped. Without warning, she grabbed his chin and turned his face around to look at him closely.

“Much better,” she declared. “Sleep some more later.”

Icarus did all he could not to gasp and shiver. The press of her thumb and forefinger against his skin reverberated down his entire body like an electric shock. The lax, easy acceptance of touch he’d been granted in half sleep was gone entirely.

When Celestina let go and turned from him, it felt like being dropped into the middle of a snow storm without a jacket. He pressed his fingers hard into his thigh to ground himself, gritting his teeth.

“You can stay if you want. I can give you a ride home with the rest of the girls if you wait an hour,” Celestina said, oblivious.

“N-no. I’m good. Thanks for the nap,” Icarus stammered as he pulled himself up out of the truck. Celestina grinned, gave him a friendly slap on the back, and jogged off toward the school.

Icarus watched her go. Then, he stretched his aching back and started the long walk home.

Trick

It was Icarus’s job to do laundry for his whole house. It was also his job to make dinner, tidy the house, and maintain the many ferns. Move the ones in darker rooms into the sun on a schedule. Clean the ashes from their altar.

It didn’t feel great that he had to do everything most kids would consider “mom stuff,” but at the very least his father didn’t march around the house creating extra messes for him to deal with. Angus contained most of his chaos in his workshop.

Icarus dropped his bag by the door, took a soda out of the fridge, and then started on the dishes. There was machinery whirring in the back of the house, and the air smelled sharp and chemical. His father was probably working on deglazing something wood.

Icarus turned on the radio by the sink to drown out the noise.

Rock

They lived in a row house on the third of four floors, with one long main hallway and five rooms branching off on either side. The first was his father’s vault, the second was the bathroom, the third was the storage room, the fourth was the supply library, and the last and largest room—the room that should have been a formal dining room—was the workshop.

It had large windows that Angus had painted over years ago. A door had been installed in what should have been an open welcoming space. There was a large expensive island in the middle of the room with a humidifier, dehumidifier, and air purifier. Several lamps lined the left wall, each with different types of bulbs and filters attached to them. There were shelves on the right, built painstakingly into the wall, to hold a selection of tools and chemicals.

Angus himself was standing at the table, wearing a heavy-duty mask, gloves, and a headlight.

Icarus grabbed a cheap disposable mask from the bin by the door and put on a pair of gloves. He wasn’t allowed in this room without them.

Angus poured a bit of liquid onto the painting he was working on, then gently scraped away at the yellowing glaze crusting the surface.

“How was school?” Angus asked, without looking up.

Icarus shrugged. “It was okay.”

The detail work on an ermine fur–trimmed purple dress revealed itself beneath his father’s expert hand. It wasn’t a painting Icarus recognized, but it was always fun to watch old lacquer get removed.

Angus painted only two things: commissions and portraits of Icarus’s mother, Evangeline. He was grand in his variety of course, painting her in different styles and eras, historical and modern. In watercolors, oils, acrylics, every expression, every gesture. Her face peeking out of all corners of their apartment, but always wearing green. Icarus could always tell when Angus was working on something for sale or preservation. Because it wasn’t her.

“I reviewed security footage from the cameras facing Black’s property. There have been no updates to his security system unless he purchased and installed it himself, and only indoors,” Angus said. “That’s not to say your concerns are unfounded. We have senses for a reason . . .”

Angus paused and pulled up the mask he was wearing so he could look at Icarus face to face.

“However, this is not enough of a hindrance to delay your next visit. The opportunity is too good and you’ll be making several trips,” he said.

“What would you do,” Icarus asked bravely, “if he caught me?”

Angus’s eyes narrowed.

“I would pick up whatever pieces he left of you and take them home.”