I had spent the afternoon silently peeking into every corner of that house, in the absurd possibility of finding where Cas kept this mythical stuff. Obviously, if the bastard was peacefully snoring on the couch, it meant that there was absolutely nothing to find.

Carli hadn't come back home. It was eight o'clock, the sun had already set, and the eleven-year-old girl was out who knows where doing who knows what.

"Cas," I called out, standing in front of the couch. He had been asleep for eight hours. He had had his little nap. He could wake up and worry about his only relative worth worrying about.

He didn't budge. He snored softly like a car idling at a stop sign with the engine running.

"CAS." I kicked the couch, eliciting a start in that silent rumble.

"Mhlm... what time is it?"

"It's eight, Carli still hasn't come home," I informed him gently.

"Mh." He rubbed his face, yawned like a hippopotamus, and began running a hand through his hair to put it back to its natural splendor. "She'll be back when she feels like it."

My brain short-circuited at those words.

I knew he had grown up like that: no supervision, no rules, and no security.

I knew he hated his mother for never taking care of him as a mother should. So how could he behave the same way with Carli?

"She's eleven. Don't you think it's dangerous for her to be out alone in this darkness?"

Casper emerged from the couch slowly, like a transatlantic trying to squeeze into a narrow harbor.

"Oh, Ben... you still talk like a rich kid from Upper Elms. Haven't you learned anything from being with me? Dangers are everywhere. It doesn't matter if she spends the night here, or on a park bench; there are no safe places. But wherever she goes, I'm always her brother, and people know that."

The unsaid was obvious: people know that if someone hurts Carli, her brother will beat them to a pulp.

Two years ago, he came close. It was a miracle that the pastor's son hadn't been left paralyzed, and it was even more miraculous that Cas had only gotten ten months in juvenile detention.

That had been our last breakup. I left him with a letter that had to be inspected by the prison police. I asked him to change, or to never come near me again.

...

When Cas mentioned the dump back there, I knew he meant the dirt patch behind his house, a bit sunken into the ground, where the locals dumped old mattresses and washing machines. It wasn't a real dump, but it attracted rats as big as ducks, just like a real one.

To get there, Cas and I went out the back, causing a crisis of barking from Christopher Walker, and passed through a gate with metal wires that opened onto a rickety staircase.

A couple of steps down the stairs, and the light from the street lamps was blocked by the outline of the house's roof.

"Cas..." I reached out and grabbed the first thing I could. His leather jacket.

It was completely dark.

"What's wrong?" Cas stopped a step below me.

Maybe for him, the residual light from the street lamps, or from the stars and the moon, was enough to illuminate the surroundings.

"Ben?"

I had no idea how many more steps there were, or how crooked they were. And of course, there was no handrail.

It was all black. There was nothing beyond Cas's jacket in my hand and the twisted ground beneath my feet.

I gritted my teeth. I hated being the one who had to stop, who was afraid to take another step.

"I can't see anything."

Cas graciously refrained from commenting. It was humiliating enough as it was.

I felt his hand around my wrist release the grip on his jacket, then guide my fingers along his arm.

"Four more steps."

"Real steps? Or what you folks here call steps?"

He laughed, as if there could be anything remotely funny. "You won't fall."

No. He meant "I'll hold you." It wasn't the same thing.

One.

I took a step, trying to move with ease, like Grandma did. She certainly didn't fear going down stairs.

Two.

She wouldn't feel suffocated by being surrounded by darkness. I could do it too.

Three.

I followed the guidance of that thick arm. For a moment, I thought I had misstepped, but I regained my balance before Cas had to support me.

And four.

"Now?"

"Straight ahead for about ten meters, then we turn right and we're there. There'll be light."

Straight ahead... then right... But straight ahead of what? Right of what?

Cas began to move, and I automatically followed him, feeling the irrational beat of my heart making me imagine shapes moving in the darkness.

Voices were getting closer, that wasn't just my paranoia. Someone was laughing loudly. How close were they? Could they see me already?

We reached the turn, and my eyes went straight to the new source of light. I let go of Cas's arm with a cry, covering my eyes with both hands. But it was too late, they were already burning like crazy, and the pain was spreading to the back of my neck, turning into a pounding headache.

The chatter had stopped.

There was a wall of painful white behind my tightly shut eyelids. It would take at least ten minutes before I could see anything now.

"Hurting?" Cas asked, avoiding laughing in my face.

"Mngh... Bearable." I lowered my hands. There was still silence all around. "Are your guys here?" I whispered, hoping they were far enough away not to hear me.

"Yes, they're watching."

Yeah, don't tell me...

"How many of them know I'm visually impaired?" I kept whispering.

Masao knew from our unfortunate first meeting, but all the others had come after, when I had already decided to hide being albino. Cas might think it was a stupid idea, but he wouldn't tell anyone behind my back.

"Masao," Cas replied predictably. "The others don't know much about you."

"Jack?" A voice I couldn't recognize exclaimed. "What's that with you? Did you bring us dinner?"

The other voices burst into laughter. I couldn't judge how far away they were. There were several in one spot, towards the same direction as the light that had blinded me, then others scattered in a wider circle.

"Ben is an old friend. He's here to do me a favor. Be decent."

An old friend... is that what you call it?

I started to slowly open my eyes, keeping my head low and my gaze fixed on the ground. I still only saw white, and the bursts of pain pulsating in my head hadn't subsided yet.

"Hey, isn't that the smurf we tackled outside school?"

Smurf must refer to my hair? How nice.

"I said be decent, Max."

Perfect. The voice on the right was Max Hansen. I remembered him, he had bleached hair and bottle-bottom glasses. He had a somewhat distinct name for a brute always ready to throw punches and get wasted on whatever shit.

Cas took my elbow and pulled me forward. "Let him sit down, he's not feeling well."

It was a somewhat clumsy excuse for my behavior, but surely oculocutaneous albinism wouldn't be the first explanation they would jump to.

I accepted being dragged and then pushed to sit on something hard.

"What the hell does this mean, Jack?" That voice didn't need introductions. I endured the pain of keeping my eyes open and aimed them in the direction of the white background that had spoken, to smile widely at him. "Hi, Masao."

He growled like a disgruntled little beast.

"You know I asked for his help," Cas whispered.

Why whisper? Weren't these his trusted friends? What did he have to hide?

I turned at the clinking of glass, some laughter. My vision was slowly returning. The general white was turning gray, and in the dark background surrounding me, shapes with depth began to appear, but I still couldn't recognize anything.

"Let's have a fucking chat, Jack." After Masao's voice, I heard feet shuffling on the ground.

Were they moving away? I tried to strangle the panic before it could set in. I had no intention of relying on Cas, and yet with him away, I felt lost in the open space. I didn't even know where I was sitting.

I felt the surface I was leaning on trying to understand how long it was and what it was made of. I couldn't make out much, except that it was smooth and dirty.

"Benjamin, right?" Someone was in front of me. If I had tried to pretend to see him, I would surely have missed his gaze and looked like a weirdo. It was easier to escape by pretending to be shy, and it might also get me some more information.

So I kept my gaze on the ground and replied softly, "Yes... and you? Who are you?"

"My name is Bob. We've met before. Do you remember?"

I remembered. His real name was Robert Rose, he had long hair tied in a ponytail like a true hippie on the road.

It was with his arrival, and that of Cole Garavito, that Casper and Masao had put together the Coyotes. It had been years ago, but we never stopped to have a real conversation. I never had any interest in dealing with those losers, and Casper never seemed intentioned to merge his two lives.

"Listen, Cole and I have a bet going on." Bob's voice lowered. He crouched down. "Cole says the boss has a soft spot for you. There's a lot of money at stake, so answer very carefully."

I knew little about Bob, except what everyone knew. He lived alone, he was the kind of idiot who would die doing some stupid dare, and he screwed anyone who came in contact with him.

I would bet my life there was no bet, and Bob just wanted to know if he had any hope of screwing his boss.

It's not like Casper was hiding his orientation, he was just a reserved guy. He never asked me to hide our relationship, but he never offered to hold my hand on the street or kiss me when there wasn't a locked door between us and the whole world.

"He doesn't have a soft spot for me," I replied sadly. "I offered to suck him off once, but he said he wouldn't get hard."

"Damn, seriously?"

"Yes. We were at the Roller Rink. You know?"

Bob let out a low whistle, then called Cole's name excitedly in a whisper. The top of the class, international math champion, approached me, hitting me with his beer breath.

"Cole, the angel here says the boss won't even get hard if he tries to suck him off. I don't stand a chance."

"Holy Christ, Bob, you'll make me puke dinner."

The conversation wasn't going in the hoped-for direction. At least now I knew that whatever place this "Roller" was, it was known and it wasn't too scandalous to offer blowjobs in that area.

The good news was that the outlines of people were becoming clearer. The light source was behind me, thank God, so it couldn't blind me. It made a curious sound, though. A low rumble, but unstable, as if it had no rhythm. I tried to raise a hand to shield my eyes and turn slightly to peek.

That... was a fire burning in a metal drum.

I quickly felt overwhelmed by uncontrollable anger. These were Casper's friends? I jumped to my feet. I didn't give a shit that I couldn't see anything. Where's Casper? Where's Masao??

I looked around, it was all a mix of black and white contrasts.

Oh. Fuck.