Page 31 of Cole: Bloodlines
“Where is he?”
Raising his eyes, the boy looked at his dad, eyes dull and emotionless. “Where are you?”
The man frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Where are you… when you’re not here?” The boy stared at him, accusingly. “Where do you go? What’re you doing?”
His father narrowed his eyes. “That’s my business. Your business is to be here—practicing. I saw the mess out front. You’re not even trying. You made a mess of Bill, too, didn’t you? I bring you up here to teach you something, and this is what you do?”
His face twitching, the boy’s eyes darkened. “Liar.”
“What?” His father stepped deeper into the cabin and slammed the door. “What did you say?”
“You’re a liar,” the boy stated calmly.
His dad closed the short space between them in two swift strides. He wrenched the boy from the chair. The stick he’d been whittling clattered to the floor, but he kept a grip on the knife. “You don’t ever fucking talk to me like that,” his dad hissed in his face, then slapped him hard. The stinging impact exploded into his skull and made his eyes water, but he didn’t cry—just stared viciously into his old man’s furious eyes.
“Don’t lie, and I won’t,” the boy muttered.
The man shoved him back into the chair and loomed over him, a deadly force ready to take him out at the next show of disrespect. “What the fuck are you talking about, boy?”
“You didn’t bring me here to learn stuff,” the boy said. “You told Bill if he kept me hidden up here, he could fuck me, didn’t you?”
“You’re making no sense, boy,” his dad muttered, but the truth was in his eyes.
Crawling out of the chair, the boy squeezed the knife in his fist. “You said you killed the whore,” he whispered coldly. “But you lied. I saw you. I saw you with her.”
“What?”
“I went looking for you,” the boy spoke low, deadly. “I found you… living with her. Married to her. I saw her belly…” His eyes were furious orbs as he raised the knife. “… and I wanted to cut her open… cut it out of her and kill it.”
His father snatched the knife from his hand and turned it on the boy, touching the blade to his throat. The boy didn’t flinch. “You will stay away from her—and my son.”
Son. His son.
“I’m your son,” the boy whispered tightly.
“Not a son a father can be proud,” his dad stated bluntly. “You’re messy and out of control. I’ve tried teaching you, but you don’t learn. You can’t learn. My new son will learn.”
The boy trembled with rage. “And what about the whore?”
“When my son is born,” his dad said. “I’ll deal with her.”
“And me?” the boy asked resentfully. “Will you deal with me, too?”
His dad stared at him, then withdrew the knife. “Learn your craft… and I won’t have to. We can teach the boy together.”
The boy narrowed his eyes. “Together?”
“Yes. But I won’t have you teaching him your messy ways. So, you will stay here and practice.”
“On animals?”
“For now,” his dad said. “When you’ve shown me your skill with the animals… maybe I’ll start bringing you other practice subjects. But you will stay here until I say you can leave, do you understand me? If I catch you anywhere near the woman while she is pregnant, I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”
The boy just looked at him, eyes empty of fear. “I know you will.”
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