by Adam Dark
Ben shook his head and swallowed roughly; his throat felt like it had been ripped apart. “I—” He couldn’t get it out, but Peter stood without a word to fill a mug with tap water. When he handed it to Ben, it was empty in almost three seconds. “I saw him.”
“What?”
“I saw him. Ian. He’s in that house.”
Peter slumped sideways off his knees to sit on the floor and quickly shook his head. “What?”
Ben moved slowly, pulling himself up from where he’d propped himself on an elbow to drink the water. He didn’t want to keep lying there on the floor like a stunned animal. “That demon,” he said, shooting a finger toward the overturned table, “took me somewhere else. I mean, it was here. But it wasn’t here. It was something totally different. Then he dragged me through everything, and we were in the house. We were there. And Ian. And… something else…”
“What are you talking about?” Peter either couldn’t hide his irritation or didn’t even try.
“Huh?”
“That thing offered to show you evil spirits, or whatever. You said okay, then you were just on the ground gasping.”
Ben blinked. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of time-warping demon thing.” He looked at his friend with a determined certainty he only hoped looked as real as it felt. “I swear, Pete. It was real. I was there, and Ian’s still there, and those weren’t just dreams. This wasn’t either.”
Peter’s brows drew together, and he nodded. “I believe you.”
How could he not after what they’d just done and seen? After summoning a demon and talking to it? Peter knew that was real, too; he’d just have to take Ben’s word for the rest of it. A relieved sigh burst out of him, and he closed his eyes. That was enough.
“What about…” Peter swallowed. “Did you see the old man?”
Ben thought he tasted chocolate chip cookies, and the memory of cramming so many of them into his mouth when his gut had told him to run almost made him vomit right there. Peter also looked on the verge of being sick—even more so than usual. “No. I only saw Ian. But there was definitely something else in there. Maybe the same thing from that night. I think Ian was trying to keep it from finding me.”
“How could he even do that?” Peter blinked.
“No idea.” Ben stared down at his hands, trying to process what he’d seen. “He was the same, Pete. He looked exactly the same except for that he… he knew things.”
“What kind of things?” Peter’s voice rose barely above a whisper now.
“Like that Ebra demon, for one.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” Ben stared at his friend and felt like he had eleven years ago, when he’d seen so many weird things at that old house twice before they’d finally been drawn inside by the old man’s invitation and a complete unraveling of their ability to resist any of it. “We really do have to go back.” He hadn’t remembered that night with such vivid clarity like this in a long, long time. Nico had been the one back then to push them all into going back, over and over, thinking it was fun and adventurous and proved he was brave. Ben had fought their friend’s excitement to return as much as he could for how little he knew back then, and Nico had been the first one of them to die. Ben couldn’t believe, even after this unexplained thing with the demon they’d summoned, that he was pushing now to go back just like Nico had. He really did mean these words, and they really would be facing that monstrous house on the hill with the evil raging inside its very walls. They’d abandoned Ian to its hunger and its rage once already; they couldn’t do it again.
“Do you think we even have a chance?” Peter asked.
Ben shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like we’re just gonna ride our bikes up that road again with no idea what we’re going to find.”
“Yeah, that almost killed me.” Peter was actually smiling, but it had been kind of serious back then, before he’d figured out the right combo of drugs for his hemophilia and none of their friends wanted to act too concerned about whether or not he could handle their adventures. If pulling himself out of his terror and back together that night to drag Ben out of the house with him hadn’t been proof enough that Peter was a badass, their partially successful demon-summoning today was.
“We can bring Ebra with us,” Ben added with a smirk. “I won’t take him up on any more of his offers. But a demon’s protection against another demon is a hell of a lot better than nothing.”
“I guess it’s a start.” Peter stared at the floor for a minute. “The demon called you son of Robin. We don’t know anyone named Robin.”
“Yeah, I have no idea. Probably from Robinson.” Peter just raised his eyebrows and shrugged, but it creeped Ben out that the thing knew his last name.
* * *
Before Peter left—saying he needed to get through some work for his classes and pass out early—they picked the day and knew they had to stick with it. It was a little weird, to say the least, that they planned it out like it was a surprise party or a fun road trip to visit family, especially when Peter told him he couldn’t go tomorrow because he had to add the final details to his design for some project he was about to start building in the engineering lab. But Ben just figured that was how to get through the building panic of knowing they’d be returning to their nightmare of a childhood and refusing to stay away from it. If they didn’t act like something was normal, they might lose it all over again. So they settled on going back Thursday; Peter could get out of his classes early, and Ben really didn’t have to be anywhere.
When he was alone in his apartment again, he thought briefly about calling his mom and maybe dropping by. But the idea of hugging her and trying to act like he and Peter had come back to Oakwood Valley just to see her—completely aware that they might not make it out of that house a second time—made him sick again, too. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that to himself. His parents had been on the edge of divorce eleven years ago, his dad having spent nearly all his time in his study or at work or out of town. The fact that their son was alive when Nico, Henry, Max, and Ian weren’t had brought them back together—pulled the few remaining ties of their marriage into a tighter knot that hadn’t seemed to fray again over time. At least, as far as Ben knew, they were still doing pretty well. He really didn’t want to rip their world apart again by seeing them and lying to their faces before he and Peter went back to that old house on the hill. If he didn’t come back, it would kill them. What they didn’t know would hurt them way less than the truth.
He just wished he knew a lot more about that truth so he could finally do something with his life. Getting Ian out of that other-dimensional hell was a good place to start.
15
The next morning, Ben only woke up because he got a text at 9:15 and hadn’t remembered to put his phone on silent. It was April, asking him if they could meet up for lunch. He’d kind of forgotten about her in all the craziness of the day before, and that alone made him want to tell her he couldn’t see her and probably wouldn’t ever be able to again. But that was taking the coward’s way out, and he wanted to be done with that.
He told her lunch would be great, then sat around his apartment for the rest of the morning, waiting for half past noon to roll around so he could get in his car and meet her at the café she’d chosen. The laundry had of course piled up behind his bedroom door, and he’d run out of clean dishes again, but the idea of trying to fix any of these mundane issues of adulthood when he knew he might not ever need food or clean clothes again after tomorrow made him even more opposed to doing anything. Maybe when he got back—if he got back—he’d load the dishwasher and call it a win.
It also surprised him that Dr. Montgomery hadn’t ever gotten back to him about what had happened or when they might reschedule their meeting for his dissertation. He didn’t expect her to share with him the details of her personal life and why she’d had to cancel, but since he’d started working with her his freshman year, she’d always b
een on top of communicating with him. A little of his old sensitivity flared up, and he thought maybe he’d scared her off with all his lies about rewriting old occult rituals to make it more accessible to the masses. Like that was what this world needed right now, anyway. But he had to push doubt aside; Montgomery was a professional, a professor, an expert in her field, and if she had enough guts to do what she did and explore the darker aspects of so many different religions and customs, she couldn’t possibly be that fragile. He was just being paranoid. Yeah, that had saved him from being drawn further into the consuming possession of the house that night, when none of his friends had seemed to realize how wrong it was to be there—that they weren’t themselves and had absolutely no control over it. But paranoia didn’t really work for college, or working relationships, or really any part of his life now. He had to leave it behind.
* * *
When he got to the café, April was already sitting at a small table by the window, sipping something hot from a mug and staring out at the traffic. When she saw him stepping through the front door, her smile really threw him off; she looked way more nervous than he’d ever seen her. Ben wondered if she’d just asked him here to tell him he freaked her out and she didn’t want to have anything to do with him—but she could have just done that in a text. Or ignored him completely. It wasn’t like they were actually dating. He steeled himself anyway and joined her at the table.
“Hi,” she said, drawing it out like she wanted to say something else instead.
“This seat taken?”
April tried to smile again when he pulled out the chair and sat, but it looked a lot more like a grimace. “I’m glad you could meet me here,” she said. “I only have class ‘til noon on Wednesdays, but I wasn’t sure what your schedule’s like.”
Ben shrugged. “Well, being able to pretty much make up my own major as I go has its perks.”
Their server was fast to greet Ben and take his order for a latte and a water before leaving them alone again. When April broke the tensely growing silence, it wasn’t with the easy enjoyment she’d always used before. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of important.”
Great. Ben thought about doing it for her and just saying, ‘Yeah, I don’t really have time to see anybody now, either,’ but the tiny chance that she’d bring up something else made him shut up. “Sure,” he said instead, sounding surprisingly way calmer than maybe he should have.
April took a deep breath and glanced out the window again. “Okay. It’s kinda weird. Well, maybe a lot weird.” She blinked and looked back at him. “But I have this feeling that you won’t think I’m completely crazy. Just… let me finish before you say anything, okay?”
“You can’t be any crazier than I am.” Did he really just say that? She tilted her head and pressed her lips together, wordlessly telling him to take this seriously. At least, that was what he thought that look meant. He nodded. “I promise.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Okay. So, I went back by the hospital yesterday. I’d heard that girl who got burned at the party was doing better. Her name’s Sarah, by the way.” Ben nodded. “And I… I dunno. I guess I felt kinda responsible for her after everything. I just wanted to check in on her let her know I was thinking about her.”
“How’s she doing?” He couldn’t get over how ridiculously kind this girl was, despite the awful way that party had turned out and the things she’d had to watch.
April’s smile this time finally didn’t look forced. “Really good, actually. I mean, considering. She got burned really bad, but they started a few skin grafts. She told me they think she won’t have too many scars. But her hair…” She touched her own again and shrugged. “I wanted to make a joke about wigs, but that would’ve been too soon.” That made Ben chuckle a little, and it seemed to give April a little more confidence before she kept going. “We talked a little bit about what was coming up next for her, and she… she actually thanked me. Then she brought up some pretty freaky stuff.”
Ben held her gaze and raised his eyebrow, nodding for her to continue. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut.
“She told me about the guy she was with that night. David, I think. He’s still in critical condition and probably won’t make it.” Ben winced; he could have told her that. “But this girl… she got really scared all of a sudden. Like terrified. She told me David was a really nice guy, that they were having a good time. And then he just went all stiff and quiet, and his eyes…” April bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, like she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “She said his eyes went black. Totally black. No whites or color. He told her, ‘You’re mine,’ then set her hair on fire with a lighter. Then she kept saying he was possessed, talking about demons, saying she always knew there were evil things but that David never deserved it…”
Ben’s gut lurched, and it felt like all the blood rushed into either his feet or his ears. Here it was. April was going to start telling him about how ridiculous any kind of belief in demons was; that she knew this Sarah girl was only speaking from trauma; that anybody who thought this kind of thing was possible had to be completely out of their minds. Or she’d tell him it was just too much for her to handle and she couldn’t spend any more time with him because he reminded her of the party and she wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the entire café heard it when he swallowed.
April sighed. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. All the other weird things that happened that night. David bashing his head against the wall. The fire starting so easily. Those guys not being able to open the door even though there was nothing wrong with it. And you…” She scrunched up her nose and lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t really want to say anything before. But Ben, you acted like you knew what was going to happen.”
Servers, apparently, always had perfect timing. Theirs returned to the table to drop off Ben’s coffee and water, and April told the guy they needed a few more minutes before they ordered. Yeah, because Ben totally had an appetite for lunch now. All he could do was stare at her, like a squirrel frozen on a busy highway. He didn’t touch the latte.
“I was just lucky, I guess,” he said. It came out like someone had programmed a robot named Ben to say these things.
April shook her head and stared down into her own mug for a minute. Then her breath came out in a quick puff. “Okay, so I’m gonna try this a different way and see how it goes.” When she looked back up at him, her eyes were wide with some weird kind of fearful determination. “Are you going with a friend or something to a creepy old house tomorrow?”
Ben hadn’t even taken a drink of anything, but he choked anyway. The first thing that entered his head was that she’d tapped his phone or bugged his apartment. But then he remembered she’d never been to his place, and he and Peter had never actually mentioned anything about what they were doing over the phone. Did Peter tell her? But that was ridiculous; Peter had made it clear he thought Ben shouldn’t say a word to April, and they didn’t even know each other. So what the hell kind of game was she playing?
“Can you say something, please?” Her tiny laugh was choked and nervous. “You look like you want to run away right now.”
He did. He didn’t. Ben had no idea what he wanted to do. “I just… uh…” His foot bounced up and down beneath the table. “What made you say that?”
For a minute, April glared at him; they’d both heard the underlying accusation in his voice. “Look,” she said, “this is a hard thing for me to talk about. I thought you’d be more open to something like this, but if you’re just gonna freak out on me, I can leave—”
“No, wait.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand as she started to get up. “Wait.” April stared at him and slowly lowered herself back into the chair, as if she expected it to burn her. He didn’t know what had her so agitated, but he knew what it was like to be automatically rejected for saying something most people
couldn’t stomach. The last thing he wanted was to do anything that made her feel that way. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Yes, that was a little freaky.” She closed her eyes, and he quickly added, “But it’s mostly because I expected you to say something completely different.”
When she opened her eyes again, she still looked pretty skeptical. “Like what?”
“Like that you didn’t want a crazy person in your life. Like you thought I had something to do with the party and you didn’t ever want to see me again.” He took a deep breath. “I really do want to know what made you ask me that question.” Ben’s ability to speak this calmly—and convincingly, judging by the way April’s scowl softened—made him feel like a completely different person. At least he wasn’t completely useless. Slowly, April pulled her hand out of his—not because she seemed afraid or hesitant of it but because she lifted both hands to her head and ran her fingers through her hair. Ben didn’t try to hold on to it, though he realized he might have if she’d let him.
“Bear with me, okay?” she asked. Ben nodded. “I have dreams. More like visions, I think, but only when I’m asleep. I… see things before they happen. My grandma died when I was eight, and that’s when it started. So… I had a dream about you last night.”
Ben tried really hard not to beg her to keep going. “What did you see?”
She looked at him like he’d just told her he could fly. “You believe me?”
