“Don’t call me Mikey!” It was what his father had called him. Now, his mother only used it when she needed something from him.
“It’s a girl, isn’t it? Some little whore wants you to go with her to the dance.”
“No, it’s not like that,” Mike said, his cheeks filling with heat. Lucy was anything but a whore.
“Did she promise to suck your dick?” She flicked her cigarette in his crotch. “To get your wiener wet? Make a man out of you?”
“Stop it!” Though his mother’s driving was terrible, it was the whole world that spun chaotically for Mike. He hated her so much, this shell of a human being.
“It is, isn’t it? Did you tell her about the time you got a hard-on for your mom? How you skunked the bed with me in it? Fucking little pervert.”
Mike covered his ears, but his mother raised her voice.
“Maybe she can borrow one of my bras, and let you beat off to-hey!”
Mike, frustrated, had grabbed the emergency brake of the car and yanked it upward. He had expected the car to come to a stop so that he could jump out, but it swerved dangerously instead, crossing into oncoming traffic. Something clipped the back of the car, causing it to spin. Mike closed his eyes when the car rolled, his face showered in glass and his ears filled with a cacophony of screams and squealing metal. He didn’t know how many times the car rolled, but when it stopped and he opened his eyes, he was upside down.
“Mom?” She hung from her seatbelt, wide eyes on the pavement in front of them. Everything smelled of gasoline and hot asphalt.
“You little shit,” she uttered, looking at him, her eyes not quite focusing. With shaking hands, she pulled a box of cigarettes from her bra, along with a lighter.
“Mom, don’t!” He tried to grab the cigarette from her, but his arm didn’t work right.
“Fuck you, Mikey!” She stuck it in her mouth and lit it. A deep inhale, and she blew the smoke in his face. “I wish you had never been fucking born!”
The smell of gasoline was stronger now, and he realized that it was leaking from above his mother and dripping on to the roof below.
“Put it out!” he hollered, fighting to get free of his seat.
She tried to slap him, but was unable to reach. Instead, she swiped with her nails, catching his shirt and leaving deep scratches on the skin beneath. Ignoring her, he tried again to undo his seatbelt, but it was no use. It was simply too tight to be undone.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The cigarette fell from her mouth, landing below her.
The vapors had grown even stronger, and his eyes watered. He grabbed a broken piece of metal and sawed frantically at his belt.
“Anywhere I can, as long as it’s away from you!” he cried, finally slicing through the fabric. He fell to the roof just as the gas ignited. His mother let out a shriek of pain as she was immediately immolated. The ball of fire seared his side. Shrieking in pain, Mike pushed through the broken windshield only to have a strong pair of hands yank him free.
MIKE OPENED HIS EYES. He was relieved to discover that both time and distance separated him from that burning car. However, the intense blast of heat had been replaced with the exact opposite.
He shivered. His clothing was soaked, the stone beneath him was cold, and his muscles were cramping up again. He was lucky that the temperature outside wasn’t any colder, else he would probably be looking at freezing to death.
A dim glow filled the opening of the cave, and Cecilia reappeared. She was carrying a small messenger bag that was now covered in a light film of frost. “Here. Tink put some stuff in there for you.”
“She did?” Mike opened the bag to look inside. Inside he found a light blanket, an amber stone, and a box of frozen Eggos. Mike couldn’t help but laugh, putting the Eggos to the side. “What is this?” he asked, holding up the fist-sized stone.
“A sun stone. Rub your hands together until your skin is hot, then hold the stone between them and blow on it.”
Mike obliged, rubbing his stiff, shaky hands against each other. The warmth was fleeting, but he kept at it until he was certain that they were actually warm, and not just warm to him. He grabbed the stone, lifted it to his face and blew.
The stone glowed, sucking the warmth from his hands. Energy swirled around inside of it, and it ignited, shedding a light that reminded Mike of a salt lamp. It was surprisingly hot, so he set it down in front of him. Soon the whole cavern was toasty. Sighing, Mike stripped off his wet clothes and laid them next to the stone to dry, then wrapped himself in the blanket.
“She said to make sure that comes back,” Cecilia informed him. “She got it out of the Vault.”
“What’s so dangerous about this?”
“The amount of heat used to activate it determines how much warmth it gives off.” Cecilia knelt by the stone. “This was found in the rubble of Pompeii.”
“Shit.” Mike stared at the innocuous stone. Several minutes passed, and he realized that he had become lost in its flickering glow. “This was just sitting in the Vault?”
Cecilia shook her head. “It’s one of the few things in there that is labeled. The one who built the house stored away such things to keep them from the hands of man, for they are too dangerous. We were invited to the house to help him protect these items from getting out, though we ourselves are also in need of protection. That is the nature of the house - it requires balance between the mortal and supernatural worlds to truly be a haven to all.”
“Do you remember anything
