Free Demon Accords 8: College Arcane by John Conroe

ourselves and what we were,
supernatural wise.
     
    T.J. seemed to be a talker and his roommate
stayed mostly quiet.
     
    “Justin here is a werebear and I’m a
technetic,” T.J. said.
     
    “What’s a technetic?” Ashley asked.
     
    T.J. looked her way then looked again, as if
he just now realized how pretty she was.
     
    “Ah, it’s what Oracle calls me, or people
like me, who have an unnatural aptitude for technology,” he
explained.
     
    “That’s not a power,” Jetta stated. “So
you’re good with tools and stuff, big deal.”
     
    “Well when you rewire your mom’s garage door
opener to open any garage door opener and you happen to be
all of four years old, then it might in fact be a bit different
than a rerun of MacGyver,” he said.
     
    “How does a four year old wire anything?” I
asked.
     
    “That’s just it. Nobody knows. But I did and
I still do. I can fix anything or improve any design. It just comes
to me. Oracle says it’s basically a form of psychic ability, to
understand electronics and stuff at an almost cellular level.”
     
    “Actually, I can relate. I’m pretty good with
computers, myself,” I said.
     
    “Building them? That’s what I do. Programming
is another story. Not my best skill.”
     
    “Programming is the part I’m good at. You
build them and I’ll write the code,” I said. He nodded around a
mouthful of food.
     
    “What about you, Justin? What’s your story?”
Ashley asked.
     
    He froze, his fork full of potatoes au gratin
almost to his open mouth. Eyes glancing rapidly around the table,
he finally lowered his hand, closed his mouth, and shrugged.
     
    “Not much ta tell ya all, not really,” he
said in a slow drawl. His Southern accent was much deeper than
Jetta or Mack’s, and his voice was really deep. He was still eyeing
his fork full of potatoes, obviously preferring eating to
talking.
     
    “Ozarks?” Mack questioned.
     
    “Ah ye-ah,” he said with a slow nod.
     
    “My sister and I are from the Tennessee side
of the mountains,” Mack said.
     
    “Oh. Too many of the wolfen up thata way,” he
said, finally shoving the potatoes into his mouth.
     
    “A big pack in North Carolina, too,” Jetta
said, “Near Ashville.”
     
    He nodded agreement, still chewing and after
swallowing, he spoke. “Ye-ah. But they left us alone and we left
them all alone. Them up north weren’t that way. Mean,” he said.
     
    “They were mean. Now they’re gone,”
Jetta said, her voice taking on a cold tone.
     
    He paused his fork again, staring straight at
the table for a second before slowly looking her way. “Heard
sum’thin about that,” he said. “ Hunters .”
     
    His voiced dropped to a whisper at the last
word, his fear of hunters seemingly greater than that of
werewolves.
     
    “Do you live in a pack? Like the wolves?”
Ashley asked, clearly trying to change the topic.
     
    He didn’t make direct eye contact but shook
his head. “Jest my family. My ma and pa and Leonard, my little
brother.”
     
    “Grizzlies?” I asked.
     
    He smiled for the first time, an ironic
little twist of his lips. “Black bears,” he said, eyes darting
around to see our responses.
     
    “Makes sense. Locals would know the
difference. Even grizzly tracks are different. A family of were
black bears would blend right in,” Caeco commented, oblivious to
the irony or any awkward overtones.
     
    “True, Awasos’s tracks are majorly different
from the bears we have here in Vermont,” I said.
     
    “You’ve seen his tracks?” Justin
asked, eyes wide and food forgotten.
     
    “Tracks? Had the whole damned bear right in
my face. Almost shat myself too,” I said.
     
    “What’s he like?” Justin asked,
awestruck.
     
    “Immense would be the best word, at least in
bear form. Don’t get me wrong—he’s still big in wolf form, but it’s
the difference between a chair and small car.”
     
    Justin put his fork down and locked his whole
attention on me.