Chapter Text
The house was quiet today. Camila was still at work, and the others had gone to get ice cream. The only sound was the click-click-click of the sewing needle at Hunter’s fingertips. He passed the fabric under it carefully, just like Camila had taught him, while Flapjack nestled against his neck.
The stairs creaked, and Luz peeked her head over the railing. “Hunter? You’re still here? I thought you’d be with everyone else.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not lactose intolerant too, are you?”
“Um, no. I would’ve gone! I just got”—he blinked down at the wolf t-shirt on the desk—“caught up, I guess.”
“I get it. That happens to me all the time.” Luz pattered down the steps. “Sooooo … can I see?”
“Not yet. When I’m done.”
“Aw. Fine.” She plopped onto the couch. “Man, who would’ve thought that the Golden Guard would become a sewing master?”
Hunter chuckled as he pressed the pedal again. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m a master.”
“Pffft. Come on. This? Masterpiece.” Luz held up his latest project—a sweater he pieced together from a box of old clothes Camila had given him.
He sat up a little straighter. “I did work really hard on that one.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
Luz examined it more closely, running her fingers over the embroidery patches that covered the front. He’d picked one for each one of his friends. A dinosaur for Gus. A rainbow for Luz. Pizza for Amity—her favorite human food. Mountains for Vee, because she said she hoped to see them someday. And a smiley face for Willow, because she was always smiling, and she made him smile too. (He also added a wolf, but that was just because wolves were really cool.)
“Wait … you know this is the Japanese flag, right?” Luz asked.
“Huh?”
“Nevermind.”
Luz settled back against the cushions, and for a while, neither of them spoke. But Hunter didn’t mind. He was used to quiet. Back when he was in the Emperor’s Coven, he was alone all the time, poring over thick, dusty books in his room for hours. It was nice to be quiet with someone else for a change. He never would’ve guessed it in the beginning, with how much she used to annoy him, but Luz was really good at quiet sometimes. More than once, when he had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep, he’d crept outside to get some air, and she was already sitting on the porch. On those nights, they sat side by side, saying nothing, just gazing at the stars until their eyelids got heavy enough to sleep again.
“Hey,” Luz said, “did I ever tell you that I like the haircut? Willow did it, right?”
His hand slipped on the fabric, making his stitches go crooked. He tried very hard not to remember Willow’s fingers in his hair, but goosebumps still sprung up on his neck, and he felt his cheeks go warm.
Flapjack stirred on his shoulder, and Hunter knew he was giving him That Look again. He cleared his throat and kept sewing.
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice light. “She helped me out.”
“It looks nice,” Luz said. “But I can’t believe how shaggy it’s gotten in the back already.”
Hunter shrugged. “My hair’s always grown fast.”
“Huh. I wonder if that’s a Grimwalker thing.”
His fingers slipped again, and this time, they ended up under the needle. Hunter sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“Stop that!” he hissed.
Luz frowned. “You okay? That didn’t sound good.”
“I’m fine.” He yanked his hands back, cradling his throbbing fingers. “But why do you keep just—saying that?”
“That you’re a Grimwalker?”
“Shut up! You don’t …” He sighed. “We don’t know that.”
Luz’s eyebrows lifted. “Why would Belos lie about that?”
“Belos lies all the time!” Hunter said, voice rising. “He lied to me my whole life!”
Luz was watching him carefully now, like she was studying his expression. Trying to figure out what he was thinking. It reminded him of the way he used to watch Belos whenever he and the scouts came back with bad news. Even when Belos had his mask on, Hunter learned how to read the curve of his shoulders, the twitch of his fingers, the pauses between his words.
Or at least, he thought he did. Because even after years of watching, the one thing Hunter had never learned to recognize … was when Belos was lying.
His stomach lurched, and he bowed his head. “I guess I was just hoping this was one last lie,” he said quietly. “But I know it’s not.”
Luz shifted to face him. “Hunter, you know it’s okay, right? That you’re … different? I mean, I’m a human! I’m different too.”
“Well, now we’re in the human realm, and I’m the freak in a group of outsiders.” He slumped over the desk, burying his face in his hands.
“You’re not a freak.”
“Yes, I am. After I found out, I read every book I could find about it. I know exactly how much of a freak I am.”
“Come on. You can’t talk about yourself like that.”
His head snapped up. “I was grown in the ground! Did you know that? I’m made of palistrom wood. And selkidomus scales. My heart is a galdorstone. I have stonesleeper lungs. I was made from the bones of a dead guy to be a clone to do Belos’s will. And I did it. For years and years I clung to every one of his lies. I let him trick me and use me. I served him. I practically worshiped him. Exactly like he created me to do.” He paused, breathing hard. Then his eyes sank to the floor, voice sinking with them. “You’re wrong, Luz. I’m the worst freak of them all.”
Luz didn’t answer. He heard a rustling sound, and then a shadow fell over his desk. He looked up to see her standing beside him.
“Is that really how you think of yourself?” she asked softly.
His shoulder twitched in a sort of half-shrug. “It’s true.”
“No, it isn’t.” She perched on the edge of the desk. “Look, yeah, maybe you popped out of the ground. Whatever. The rest of us popped out of somewhere way grosser than that.”
“Ew, Luz—”
“And does it matter? Does it matter where you came from, as long as you choose where to go?”
She looked at him earnestly, hopefully. He hadn’t seen her look like that in a long time. Like a kid who still believed in fairytales. He’d thought that was naive, at first. He thought she was stupid for trusting him when they first met, when he’d been planning to betray her all along. But she was right, in the end. It was her trust that made him choose to help her. Somehow, from the very beginning, she’d believed he’d end up on her side. And now, here they were—more than just allies. More than friends, even. He’d never said it, but he was pretty sure that Luz was the closest thing he’d ever had to family.
His gaze slipped sideways. “But I’m not—I’m not like the rest of you. I’m, like … fake.”
To his surprise, Luz laughed. “Fake? Fake? There is nothing more real than your newfound passion for sewing, potato boy.”
In spite of himself, he laughed too. “Potato boy?”
“Yeah. ’Cause potatoes grow in the ground.”
“Right.”
Luz grinned. “Listen. Maybe your heart is a galdorstone, but it’s full of all the good stuff. The best stuff. The stuff that makes you Hunter—who is nothing like Belos. And nothing like Caleb Wittebane, either.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She point to the wolf pattern still pinned under the sewing machine. “There’s no way Caleb Wittebane was as cringe as you.”
Hunter frowned. “What’s cringe?”
“It’s what you are.”
“And that’s … good?”
“It is indeed, my friend. Embrace it.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Embrace the Hunter.”
Flapjack twittered, butting his head gently against Hunter’s cheek.
He smiled. “Okay.”
“Good. I’ll let you finish your project, okay? I’m gonna go embrace the Luz.” She yawned. “The Luz that could really go for a nap right now.”
She pushed off the desk and made her way back to the stairs. He stood, eyes trailing after her.
“Um, Luz?”
She paused on the bottom step. “Yeah?”
“Do you think—do you think the others would think the same thing? Like, that I’m … I don’t know—”
“The same Hunter they already know and love?” She smiled. “Of course.”
Hunter lifted Flapjack from his shoulder, cradling him in his hands. Flapjack looked back up at him, brown eyes warm and bright.
“Well, then, maybe I should tell them,” Hunter said.
“You definitely could.”
He bit his lip. “But I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”
“That’s okay,” Luz said. “You can take as much time as you need.”
He looked up at her. “And you still won’t tell anyone, right?”
“I won’t tell. Trust me—I get it.” Her expression darkened. “I have a secret too, remember?”
“That won’t make them hate you either,” Hunter said. “You know that, right?”
Her lips lifted, but the smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Right. Well, good luck with your sewing thing.” She climbed back up the stairs and shut the door behind her.
Hunter sank back onto the stool, placing Flapjack gently on the desk.
“What do you think, Flap? Should I tell them?”
Flapjack chirped, tilting his head.
“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no rush. I can tell them when I’m ready.”
He eyes caught on the sweater Luz had left on the couch. The patches were bright against the dark fabric. He counted off each of them. Luz. Amity. Vee. Willow. Gus. Something tightened in his gut, warm and waiting.
“When I’m ready,” he whispered.