Stalked by Demons

by Trudi Jaye

  I know the answer to that one. Turning, I sprint as fast as I can in the direction of the lab. Behind me I hear a deafening roar, and I don’t understand how it is that no one else is freaking out. Why are they not running as well, pushing me over in their desire to escape the terrifying demon on the roof?

  If Blade hadn’t run off, he’d probably be able to tell me. He might even know how to get rid of it.

  But he’s not here, because he ran away.

  The ground shakes like there’s a herd of elephants playing on pogo sticks behind me. The demon has landed on the ground, and it’s coming for me. The ground underfoot rumbles like it’s an earthquake, and I take a desperate look behind me. The demon is running on four legs like a giant ape, covering more ground than seems reasonable.

  I’m not going to make it back to the lab. I’m going to die here, my back turned, not knowing when the killing blow is going to strike.

  The thought makes me slow down, and then come to a full stop. I turn, plant my feet wide, and put my hands out in a fighting pose that I hope makes it seem like I know karate. The smell of brimstone and ash fills the air. I scowl at the demon as it races for me across the grass, its enormous muscles banding and contracting with every stride.

  Fuck it, I’m going to take what’s coming head-on.

  There’s a euphoric feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I know it’s not me. There’s no way I’ve ever been happy to see a demon, even when I’m hunting them. With a sick feeling, I realize it’s the tiny demon inside me, more excited than it should be about this confrontation.

  Except I don’t time to be scared that it’s back. It’s the least of my worries right now. There’s an enormous demon bearing down on me, looking like nothing would give it more pleasure than to rip me limb from limb.

  As it runs, the enormous demon’s soulless eyes are focused on me, and I feel almost connected to it despite the distance still between us.

  I glance around, trying to plan my defense. What have I got to fight him with? None of my usual gadgets, that’s for sure. No high-pitched calling device, nothing to suck it into.

  As I clutch at the straps of my bag, something clinks against my keys inside, and I remember that’s not entirely true. I have two of the little bottles, same as the one that held the demon that’s now inside me.

  Maybe they’re similar to the metal box I designed? Something that sucks the pure energy of the demon into the tiny space inside the bottle. The little demon must have been put in the bottle somehow, so maybe I can do the same thing. I was going to test it at home tonight… I’ll just have to test it here instead. Easy.

  My heart is pounding, and my throat feels raw, and all I really want to do is run. But the demon is still pounding on all fours in my direction. Pulling out one of the bottles, I unscrew the lid and put it in my pocket. Holding the bottle tightly in one hand, I try to decipher how it works. Somehow this enormous demon has to squeeze into this tiny bottle. I’m not even sure it’s possible.

  Maybe only the little demons can fit in there?

  Maybe I’m about to die.

  My throat closes up, and I struggle to breathe. The demon is closing in. Everywhere around me, students slouch past and teachers congregate in small but unhurried clusters. No one seems to notice I’m about to die.

  Maybe I really am crazy? This could be a hallucination. No one else is reacting to this creature storming toward me. How can I be the only one to see it? The old fear digs into my chest. I must be crazy. It’s the only explanation.

  They were right.

  I clench my fingers convulsively around the bottle and straighten my shoulders.

  No. Blade sees demons too. The detective last night was the same. I’m really seeing this. There’s no need to doubt myself. I’m not alone anymore.

  Then I frown and glance back in the direction Blade disappeared.

  Although I am alone right now.

  Without warning, a black streak races across the grass on the other side of the demon and slams into it, taking them both in a rolling tumble across the quad. The strike is so unexpected, I jerk back as if I was the one being attacked. The power behind the black animal is immense, and the demon rolls over and over, unable to stop the sideways momentum. It roars so loudly I put my hands over my ears, but no one else notices. They’re just going about their normal day.

  I don’t know how the two fighting creatures aren’t crashing into the people milling around, but somehow they’re not. It’s like the human audience can tell they shouldn’t walk in their direction, but they don’t know why.

  I’m transfixed.

  I can’t make my feet move, and I can’t take my eyes off the battle raging in front of me. I don’t understand what’s happening. The original demon lifts its arm in a rush and manages to take the black creature—maybe a mountain lion—unaware, slamming into its side.

  The black animal flies in an arc across the grass, landing heavily on the ground. It doesn’t move. The demon roars in victory and stalks toward its victim.

  Without thinking, I take a couple of steps forward. I have to save it, whatever it is. It just took on the demon to help me.

  This is my only chance.

  I run—not away like a rational person, but toward the massive demon.

  The bottle is cold in my hand. I twist off the lid and press the button on the base to turn on the little device. I’m not certain this is even going to work, but I have to try. The demon is standing triumphantly over the black animal, which appears to be an enormous black jaguar.

  Sharp claws glint as the demon lifts one arm—it seems to be about to gut the jaguar it’s just wounded. I keep running toward it, hoping it doesn’t kill the beautiful animal, but worrying it might kill me instead.

  “Hey!” I yell, as I wave my arms around. I get a few weird looks from the milling students—who still don’t seem at all concerned by the rampaging demon—but I don’t care. I’m about a hundred feet from the demon when it looks up and turns its head in my direction.

  Dammit. I skid to a halt. Now its focus is firmly back on me and my tiny bottle. It seems bigger and meaner than any demon I’ve seen before. I keep moving forward, my hand shaking as I hold the bottle out in front of me like a talisman, hoping I haven’t got it all wrong and I’m about to die.

  It roars and the hairs on the back of my arms stand up.

  The demon starts running at me on all fours.

  13

  When it’s about twenty yards away, the demon slows.

  It’s still walking forward, treading carefully, watching me like a fox watches a chicken. Not just waiting for me to run. Hoping that I’ll run.

  It’s close enough that I can smell its breath. Charcoal and fire, with a hint of lightning. The blue glow around it has intensified. I look down at the bottle and realize my hand is glowing blue as well, like a matching beacon.

  Anger builds, and I widen my stance slightly, trying to anchor myself to the ground. I’m not afraid, not like I should be. There’s something inside me that’s confident, that thinks I can make this happen. Maybe it’s the little demon, giving me courage. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

  The demon gives a triumphant roar. Sizzling energy rolls off it in brutal waves as it stalks closer. Sunlight glints off the glass bottle in my hand, like a beacon for the demon to follow. Soon it’s standing only a few feet away, its hot breath on my arms. The bottle is shaking in my hand, and I have to look away from the demon’s burning eyes.

  Nothing’s happening. The bottle isn’t doing anything.

  I shake it frantically, trying to make the device kick in. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to make the bottle do its job. Maybe it’s broken. That’s probably why it was in the box. My breath comes in little gasps; I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  I’m going to die.

  The demon roars again and stamps another foot forward, sniffing the air like it thinks it’s Hannibal Lecter. Its eyes are light black pools, and a snarl
shows off its sharpened teeth. I don’t know what it’s waiting for, why it’s not tearing me apart.

  Desperately, I turn the device off and on again a couple times, my fingers like sausages on the tiny switch. Slapping the bottle against the palm of my hand, I try to force it to do something, anything. I flick the tiny switch one more time and let out a low moan when it doesn’t work.

  Then suddenly I feel a kickback of energy. A low humming vibrates against my fingers, and my heart clenches with hope. For the first time, I feel the pull of the bottle as it attempts to suck something into its void.

  The demon looks down.

  It lowers its arm and takes a swipe at the bottle. But instead of knocking the bottle out of my hand, the demon’s arm is sucked into the tiny glass opening. The demon roars and tries to pull away, but it’s too late. Its shoulder goes in next.

  I grit my teeth and hold the bottle as far away from me as my arms will allow, both hands gripped tight as a fierce wind whips around me.

  The power of the bottle is trying to drag me in as well. It’s like my skin is being pulled by an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner. I clench my suddenly sweaty fingers closer around the glass, holding myself away from the worst of the suction. My eyes are watering from the strain, and it feels like I’m about to lose the bottle to the power of the cyclone gales around me. I’m pretty sure if I let go, I’m going to end up in the bottle with an angry demon.

  But before I really know what’s happening, the demon is two thirds of the way inside, its shape squeezing awkwardly down through the narrow rim. It gives off one last roar, and then its head is absorbed down into the bottle.

  Keeping the open end of the bottle pointed away from me, I scramble to shove the metal cap back on, twisting it tight. It’s only when the lid is completely on that the terrifying suction dissipates.

  I lift the bottle and flick off the tiny switch.

  Then my knees kind of crumble, and I end up on the ground, my breathing harsh and my heart pounding. I stay like that—on my hands and knees, my head bowed, the glass bottle clutched in one fist—for a full minute or more.

  Just getting used to the idea that I survived a demon attack.

  Again.

  I sit back on my knees and hold the bottle up in front of me. It’s clouded with an agitated mist, and a strange discordant vibration is coming off the glass surface. I don’t know what to do with the demon-filled bottle, so I keep it tightly gripped in one hand.

  A low growl makes me lift my head.

  The jaguar. I’d forgotten about it.

  Standing carefully, I walk over to where the enormous black cat is lying prone on the ground. It’s stirring, its tail swishing angrily. I hesitate, unsure about what I should do. I don’t want to be killed by a real wild creature, just moments after surviving an attack by a supernatural one—that would be ironic, as the song goes—so I keep my distance.

  I’m standing there watching as a young guy, his nose in a book, walks almost directly toward the jaguar. At last minute, and for seemingly no reason, he swerves to the right, and walks in a different direction. I frown, my eyes darting around me. No one else is paying any attention to the enormous jaguar. It’s like it’s invisible to them, just like the demon.

  I take a closer look. It does seem large for a normal jaguar, even a zoo-fed one. It also attacked the demon, which when I think about it is a pretty weird thing for an animal to do in the middle of a busy college campus.

  I take a cautious step toward it. Despite its injuries, it’s sleek and muscled, clearly in good condition. Perhaps it belongs to some local billionaire who can afford to have his own zoo? There are a lot of those around this area.

  It’s only when I get close enough to see the blood oozing out from a wound on its side that I lose some of my hesitation. An animal is supposed to be more dangerous when it’s wounded than at any other time, but the way it saved my life by attacking the demon makes me throw caution to the wind. I don’t want it to die because of me.

  I crouch down beside the jaguar, holding out one hand as if I can wave away the wound and the pain. The jaguar turns its head, and its bright green eyes stare into mine. Without thinking I touch my hand to the sleek black hide of the jaguar and a shock of awareness goes through me.

  Impossible as it seems, I recognize this animal.

  It goes against everything I want to believe, but I’m certain this isn’t an ordinary jaguar.

  Somehow, this is Blade.

  He saved my life, and now he’s lying here, bleeding out, probably going to die.

  “What can I do?” I ask him desperately. “How do I get you out of here?”

  The cat lets out a hiss, and then suddenly he’s changing right in front of me. Bones creak, skin tightens and stretches in ways it’s not supposed to. His face is wreathed in agony, and as his hands appear in front of mine, I grasp them, holding on for dear life as he turns back into a human. It takes only a minute or so, and then I’m crouching down in front of a very tall, very naked, man; covered in blood with a large gash down one side of his body.

  “Holy shit.” I pull off my scarf, holding it against the wound. He pushes my hand away and keeps the material in place with his own hand.

  “I need to get out of here,” he whispers. “Keys and clothes over there.” He points off to one side of the main building.

  “Come on,” I say, and manage to pull him to standing. He’s clearly in a lot of pain, and I’m not sure he’s even completely conscious, but I put one of his arms around my shoulder and half drag him across the grassy area. His skin is hot against mine, like he’s burning up with a fever. I look around, waiting for people to start yelling and screaming at us, or even to notice what we’re doing. A couple of people look at me strangely, like I’m a bit weird, but nothing more.

  I don’t understand what they think they’re seeing.

  But right now, I can’t concentrate on that. I have to get Blade out of here, find someone who can help with his wound. He’s still holding my scarf over the wound, keeping the blood flow staunched for now, but it’s not enough. I’ve done a bit of first aid over the years, but I don’t think I can patch up this kind of wound.

  “We have to get you to a hospital. I think the closest one is—”

  “No hospitals,” he says sharply. He sounds just like I did when he was about to call his friend.

  “But you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need professional help.”

  “No hospitals. Take me back to your place.”

  I shake my head violently. “I can’t look after a wound like this.”

  “I’m different than humans. I heal faster. This is just a scratch.” He tries to smile, but it’s a shadow of what it should be.

  “What if you die?”

  “I won’t die,” he says harshly. “Ring Damien Walker. The number’s in my cell.”

  We’ve reached the wooden seat tucked away behind the main building where his clothes, his mobile phone, and the keys to his Jeep are hidden. He collapses onto a bench, his naked body sprawled out. I pick up his clothes, but I don’t even bother trying to get him dressed. Even if he was acting coordinated enough to get jeans back on, his wound is too big. Instead I put his T-shirt over the wound and wrap the scarf around him to keep it in place. He winces as I pull the knot tight, but doesn’t say anything.

  I turn, trying to find his Jeep in the parking lot. Unerringly, my eyes catch on his big black vehicle sitting among the smaller staff cars, standing out like a bird of prey among a nest of mice.

  “Let’s go,” I say, more to myself than Blade, and pull him to his feet. He walks unsteadily with me to the Jeep, and I only just manage to get his large frame into the front seat.

  He looks around as I climb into the driver’s seat. “I think I—” he says, and then faints dead away, the seatbelt only just holding him up.

  14

  Somehow, I get the Jeep started. It’s been a while since I drove a stick shift, but I manage it—if I could drive Bertha,
the old tractor at the compound, I can drive this beast of a car.

  Beside me, Blade’s a big, limp, dead weight. He’s leaning over, his head resting on my shoulder as I drive his vehicle recklessly through the streets toward my apartment block. I consider taking him to a hospital, despite his objections, but my own paranoia about official institutions is just as strong as his.

  I’m going to hang onto him a little longer.

  When I pull up outside the entrance, Nelson is sitting outside, swinging his legs against the edge of the brick wall to one side of the building.

  “What’re you doing?” he asks as I get out of the truck and go around to Blade’s side.

  “Nothing.” I don’t need the kid involved in this. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  He ignores me and wanders over. His eyes widen as he stares at the blood down Blade’s side. “Why is he naked?”

  “He’s been injured.”

  “Shouldn’t you take him to a hospital or somethin’?”

  “I’m going to patch him up,” I say, as if I do this all the time.

  Nelson looks at me skeptically, and I realize I’ve already told him too much. “Go away. Pretend you never saw us,” I say desperately.

  Nelson doesn’t move; it’s like I never spoke.

  Ignoring Nelson, I try to move Blade’s heavy body over so I can pull him out of the Jeep. He falls on top of me, and I let out an “oomph”.

  “Do you need help?”

  I stare at Nelson. He stares back, his face expressionless. He’s not like other kids his age, that’s for sure.

  I don’t really want anyone else in my apartment, but Nelson’s been there before; it won’t be like letting in an entirely new person. And he’s another set of hands. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that I can’t drag Blade up the stairs by myself. Plus, Nelson already knows about my demon obsession.

  “Grab his legs.”

  Nelson quickly takes hold of Blade’s legs. I feel bad asking a kid to help like this, but not bad enough to tell him to stop.