12: why would a demon care about cockfights?

Let's just get one thing straight. It's not a good idea to bring anyone to my childhood house, and I shouldn't be doing it. In fact, I don't even want to. I just know there's no way out of it.

My dad has info that might help us, if I'm right, and I know neither Safiya nor Midge would have let me go by myself if I'd tried to. So I just cut all the crap and invited them before they could make me.

This is either going one way, or the other. Either Sybil and Dad will love Safiya and Midge immediately like they did Rocco, and they'll shower them with compliments and cookies and all sorts of other weird stuff, or they'll think they're both weird and ask me what I'm doing with my life.

And I have a feeling it's more likely to turn out one way than another.

As soon as I acknowledge that I'm searching for it, for home, there's that familiar tugging in my chest. We've just stepped outside Midge's house, and I'm already speed walking down the street. The house is still near Lenox, but a little further this time. I keep moving, knowing my blood won't be silenced until I get there.

"Grey!" wails Midge, jogging behind me. "Could you stop walking so fast? We still don't even know what you're talking about."

I'm drawn to a halt by a crosswalk. Groaning, I impatiently tap my foot. That's the thing I hate about Sybil's dumb spelled house. It's like a damn piece of me, and whenever I decide to go there, it's like it takes over every single one of my nerves. It's a dumb spell. It really is. But I've been under it ever since I was born.

"You've heard of a cockfight, right?" I ask, still tapping my foot. Safiya doesn't look unnerved, but Midge seems extremely concerned. There's a lot she still doesn't know about me.

"Cockfights?" repeats Midge. "You mean, where the chickens kill each other?"

I nod. "Yeah, and people bet on them. People spend years training those chickens. Well, here's the thing—here, they don't use chickens for fighting."

I glance again towards the street. Cars are droving steadily past, and I'm beginning to pant. Just a few more moments, I'm thinking, and then I'll be off and running.

Safiya's leaned against the traffic pole, her sunglasses pushed to the edge of her nose. She says, "Wolves. They train wolves and fight them?"

"Yup," I confirm.

Midge rubs her temples. "There's got to be something illegal about that."

"Yes. Everything," I say. "I've never been to one. It's not my thing. But my dad, Alvanor, was a regular at those fights when he was young. He made a lot of money off them, too. He might know which club that wolf came from."

Midge opens her mouth to ask something else, but then the light turns red and the little walking guy comes up on the crosswalk signal. I let out a rushed, "Finally," and then I'm on my way, not turning back to see if Safiya or Midge are keeping up.

I don't slow down until we've reached the subway station, and then I turn to the two of them, figuring I should probably issue some sort of warning. Avoiding moving subway cars is a whole lot easier when you can turn invisible, which I realize isn't something a large number of people can do. "So...my old house...it's like, in the walls of the subway tunnels. We have to walk through them to get there. So, you know, if a subway car passes, squish yourself against the wall as far as possible and hope for the best."

I turn to head down the tunnels, but Midge snatches at my arm, probably not knowing that she's physically hurting me by turning me away. This spell. This dumb spell! I grit my teeth as she asks, dumbfounded, "You grew up in a subway tunnel?"

"Yeah. Cool, right?" I say, lowering myself from the platform. "Now let's go. Please."

We have five minutes, maybe, until the next car passes by. If I can find the door by then, everyone should get in without losing a limb. I help Midge down from the platform, and offer my hands to Safiya, who just glares at me and does it herself. Then I follow the beat of my blood, leading them away into the dark.

The bustle of the station dies away here, replaced by our footfalls and the echoes of condensation dripping against concrete. The air's thicker, but cooler, and I find myself shivering. Behind me, Midge and Safiya are complaining, about not being able to see anything and about the mildewy smell, respectively. But here, at least, I feel like myself. The darkness isn't crippling; it's comforting. At least for someone like me.

My steps become surer the further I go, and I've found the door in what must have been four minutes. I can see the beginnings of headlights at the end of the tunnel, two glowing white eyes in the black distance. My blood settling down again, I grab the knob. The door manifests itself; I yank it open. "Quick," I mutter, ushering Safiya and Midge inside.

I shut the door to a whoosh of air, the rumbling of wheels on the track.

"Grey?" calls Sybil, probably from the pantry. She's always in the pantry, organizing something. I used to try to help her, you know, to be a good housemate and what not, but she gets angry if I touch anything: My barley grass is not to be manhandled, Grey! "Is that you? You're back soon!"

I enter the kitchen, ahead of Midge and Safiya. Not surprisingly, Sybil's got the pantry door tossed wide open, her cat-eye glasses balanced on the bridge of her russet nose as she squints at something in a glass jar. Her dark hair's a giant mess on top of her head, held up by a record amount of pins.

"Yeah, it's me. I need to talk to Dad."

Sybil nudges her glasses up, setting the jar down. Her hands go to her hips. "Is something the matter? Is it about—"

"No, Sybil. Not everything's about my mom. I've told you. I don't care."

"You clearly do."

"Sybil—"

"Oh my God! There's a woman! In my house! Oh! And more than one!" exclaims Sybil then, and I glance over my shoulder. Midge and Safiya have exited the front hall, looking around themselves in amazement. Their expressions dissolve into surprise when they see Sybil, who's jumping around like a madwoman. "What a glorious day this is! After so many years with just you and Alvanor—hmm, well what's the explanation, Grey? Is it some sort of harem?"

"No! What the hell? They're just friends of mine!" I defend, tossing my hands in the air. Behind me, Safiya looks like she's barely containing her laughter. Considering she's a lesbian, a harem would be last on her list of things to participate in. Unless she and all the girls kicked the one guy out and screwed each other instead.

See? See why this was an awful idea?

"Yes, they happen to be girls," I say. "I'm going to go talk to Dad now, which is what I came here to do in the first place, if you'd leave us alone..."

"Now, now, you know it wouldn't be polite of me not to introduce myself," Sybil says, hooking her glasses on her collar. She must be feeling dressy today, because she's in her sari, her favorite orange and yellow one, which she doesn't wear all the time. In fact, the get-up Sybil's usually in is some sort of fluffy robe.

My stepmom shoves me over as if wanting to give Safiya and Midge a full view of her. "I'm Sybil," she introduces. "I've raised Grey ever since he was a tiny newborn. I'm sure he's told you so much about me, hasn't he?"

Bless them, because neither Midge nor Safiya say a word. Sybil's got this strange look on her face like she's trying to be chill about it, but is most certainly not chill about it. I'm okay with that face. It's what she gets for all the times she's stomped on my tail.

Sybil clears her throat, looking at Safiya. "Your name, darling?"

"Safiya," she says, and I'm both surprised and grateful that she's actually being cordial. "Grey and I have been neighbors for a while. Nice to meet you."

"You too, Safiya. What a pretty name," Sybil tells her, then takes Midge by the hand. "Oh! A witch. I see Grey actually has taste. Who might you be?"

"Uh, Midge," she answers, blushing furiously, "Osborne. Midge Osborne."

Sybil smiles so widely it shouldn't be possible. Or maybe I just don't want it to be. She's never given me such a big smile. I swear, when she made the deal with my birth mom, she was probably hoping for a daughter. She must've been super disappointed when I arrived, then, and she probably still is.

"Beautiful," Sybil says. "You both seem like truly wonderful ladies. I might have to ask what you're doing hanging around a lazy cross-breed like that one over there—"

"Sybil, you've embarrassed me enough," I interrupt. "Could you tell me where Dad is, already? It's important."

She frowns at me. It's a joke, but she frowns at me like she's actually concerned. Then she just waves me off and says, "You know where he is, Grey."

Ah, of course. The study. I should've gone straight there.

I grumble a thank you to Sybil, then gesture for Midge and Safiya to follow me as I head down the hall. We move in a silence for a while, past the intermittent floor lamps and tables for incense, even past the door to my old bedroom, until Midge says, "She seems cool."

I don't stop walking. "Who?"

"Your stepmom, genius," cuts in Safiya.

"Yeah," Midge agrees. "She raised you, really?"

My footsteps halt, and Midge almost runs smack into me. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from quivering. "Yeah, who else would have? You're lucky, Midge. To have a mother who you're important to. Who actually wants you in her life."

Midge brushes my shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean, Grey?"

"Oh!" exclaims Safiya with a chuckle, as I turn to face the two of them. The study's not far from us, the double doors not more than two or three steps away. I could make a break for it. If I really needed to. "You don't know, do you, Midge? How his mom gambled him away before he was even a fetus."

"Safi," I snap. "Now's not the time."

"When is the time, then, demonboy?"

"I don't know! It just...it's not right now, alright? We have to find out about these fights," I say, "and that's our number one priority."

Midge is looking at me like she wants to give me a hug, which I don't appreciate, so I turn away before she can and approach the study's entrance, knocking twice on the heavy oak doors. "Hey, Dad? It's me, Grey. I've brought some friends, and, uh, we could really use some help with something—"

I'm cut off as the doors rattle and then swing open, nearly hitting me in the face. My dad's there, reclined in his leather office chair with his huge feet up on the desk. His pitch black eyes regard us with something like mirth as he says, in his scary demon voice, no less, "ENTER!"

"Dad," I mutter. "You don't have to be a drama queen about it."

"Fine," he agrees, striking his chest as he coughs. He gestures toward the chairs around his desk and tells us, "Go ahead and make yourself at home. Not you, Grey. You didn't bring me apples."

"Are you already done with the ones I just bought you?"

"Yes," Dad answers, a dark eyebrow lifting towards one of his horns. "I'm a grown demon, son. I need my nutrition. Now tell me, what do you need?"

I sit down between Midge and Safiya; the doors to the study shut again, and my dad leans forward, tenting his hands before him. To my surprise, both Midge and Safi are shivering a little. I look at my dad's tall form, probably seven feet if I had to guess, the monstrous horns rising from his head of unruly black hair, his keen fangs that are twice the size of mine...

Yeah, I don't get it. There's nothing scary about him at all.

I say, "You use to go to the wolf fights, right? When you were younger, I mean."

Dad laughs, sitting back in his seat. "Oh, those were the days. I could always tell whether a wolf was going in to dominate or to be mere fodder. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's in the eyes—"

"Dad!"

"Right! Wolf fights. I wouldn't get in to them, though, Grey," Dad warns. "It's not a pretty world, not for the bettors or the fighters."

"That's fine. That's not my plan anyway. I just need to know—Safi?"

With my cue, Safi pulls out her phone, displaying the picture of the wolf we'd seen on the news. The cell phone thuds gently against the desk, and I gesture towards it. "Do you know which club this guy is from?"

Dad squints at the screen for a second, then sits back with a sigh and replies, "Oh, yeah, easy. He's one of Tito's. A club a little east of here, called Lobo. Real original, I know, but the guys, they're all idiots anyway—"

"Thanks, Dad," I say as Safi retrieves her phone. "That's all we need."

He pauses, the office chair squeaking underneath his weight. "That's all?" his eyes narrow. "What's this for, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," I assure, and before he can ask any further, I glance at Safiya and Midge in turn. "Hey guys, do you mind leaving us for a second? There's something I need to ask him."

No matter how hard I'm fighting it, Cyril's words keep echoing in my head. Before you were even a thought in the man's head. What would my dad have to do with a lowlife like that vampire? And why haven't I known about it until now?

"Yes! We certainly can!" Midge replies, jumping to her feet perhaps too excitedly. She says to my dad, "Thank you, sir," before taking Safiya by the arm and tugging her from the room.

I wait until the doors have smacked shut once again to say anything. I've obviously tickled my dad's curiosity; he's tapping the desk now with his talons, his expression cautious and calculating. This is a bad idea. But, hell, all my ideas are bad.

"I met this guy today, Dad. Cyril."

The calculating expression softens. "Cyril? Oh, what a riot! I haven't talked to the fellow in at least thirty or so years!"

I fight the shivers rising within me. "So you do know him?"

"Cyril?" Dad says. "Oh, yes. We were good friends back in the day, running around the city, causing trouble. But, you know, all good things come to an end. He went one way, I went another, haven't really seen him since. How is he these days?"

I raise my eyebrows, slumping down in my seat. "He's the leader of a psycho vampire clan, for starters. And he nearly killed one of my friends."

Dad pauses, the rhythmic tap of his talons halting. For a moment I'm thinking I never should have asked in the first place, but then he just sighs and says, "Ah. Well, I'm not surprised. Cyril's never really been up to any good. Just be careful, Grey."

I bite my lip, not sure if that's enough of an answer for me, but in the end, pressing my dad for anything never really goes well. Never has. So I get up, pushing the chair in. "Yeah. I'll be careful."

I turn to go, but then Dad says, "Don't forget, Grey."

"Don't forget what?" I question, glancing over my shoulder.

"Dinner. With your mom."

"Oh," I mutter, pinching the skin between my eyebrows. "Dinner. With my mom. Right. So pumped."

Dad switches on his scary demon voice again. I don't think it's a switch, really. I have no idea how he does it. "Grey—"

"It's on my calendar, Dad," I assure him. Falsely. I don't even have a calendar. "I'm not going to forget. Promise."

I wave goodbye to signal the end of this conversation, stepping out of the study with a new resolve.

I'm going to this Lobo place, and I'm finding answers for once.