Demon Road

by Derek Landy

  The old man looked at the jars. He eyed the sixth one disapprovingly.

  “We are dreadfully sorry,” said Bill, “but Imelda, she … she turned on us.”

  “The deal was for six jars,” said the old man.

  “You can have more of my blood,” said Bill, but such a look of disgust rippled across the old man’s face that Bill actually took a step backwards.

  “Your blood is already losing its potency,” the old man said. “The terms of the deal were quite specific.”

  Betty smiled her million-watt smile. “We’ll fill the sixth, I assure you. We’re going to find our daughter. She’s here, she’s close. We’ll feed again, and we’ll give you enough for another six jars.”

  Amazingly, her words still hurt. Amber would have laughed if she didn’t feel so much like crying.

  “I have no interest in another six,” the old man said. “I only require enough to fill this empty jar, as per the deal.”

  “We know,” Bill said quietly. “You have our unreserved apology for the inconvenience. If you would like to stay here, we’ll find her. We’ll find her right now.”

  The old man sighed, and they took this sigh for agreement.

  Amber ducked down as they spread out to search for her. They were sobering up fast, but they passed her hiding spot without even glancing down.

  She circled round, came up in the shadow of the old man’s car. She peered out at him and his glass jars. She could sneak over there, offer him her blood, get close, and then smash every one of them. Then he’d go back to the Shining Demon empty-handed, and the Shining Demon would be so furious that he’d smite Amber’s parents and take care of her problem for her.

  It was a good goddamn plan. It was also her only goddamn plan.

  The old man turned in her direction. Impossible. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t possibly—

  His eyes locked on hers. He didn’t say anything.

  She stayed where she was, crouched down. “My name is Amber,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I … I’m the one they’re looking for.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, child.”

  “But I’m here to … I mean, I’d like to give blood. You need that jar filled, don’t you? No matter how fast I run, eventually my folks are going to find me, catch me and … and kill me.”

  “Your fate is none of my concern.”

  Amber straightened up. She figured she could reach that table in six, maybe seven strides. “I understand that,” she said, “I do, but since my blood is going to be used, anyway, I thought I’d give it voluntarily. Maybe that way I can take Imelda’s place in the group. Maybe they’ll let me live.”

  The old man had unsettling eyes. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. “Perhaps. But I am merely the Shining Demon’s representative – I do not speak with his voice.”

  Amber nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”

  She stepped forward, but the representative held up a withered hand.

  “When you have fed, you may approach.”

  He was a frail old man. One shove would be all it’d take to send him stumbling. And yet there was something about him, something about those eyes, that stopped her from making a move. He turned, then, stood with his back to her, but this only made her hesitate further. He’d called her bluff and now he was dismissing her, and so her only choice was to tackle him right now or start running.

  She turned, and started running. She passed a prefabricated office and was almost to the gate when something charged at her from the darkness. A hand slammed into her chest and sent her crashing through a door. She fell backwards over a desk, sent a chair spinning, heard a heavy old computer hit the floor.

  Alastair walked in after her.

  “It didn’t have to be this way,” he said. “You could have joined us.”

  She got up. The office had only one door, and Alastair was blocking it.

  “If you had said yes,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have to kill you. If you’d taken part, your blood would have been bubbling and boiling with all this incredible power and the representative would have gone back to his master with six jars.”

  A part of Amber wanted to plead with him, reason with him, get down on her knees and beg him – but he still had Imelda’s blood smeared across his face, matted in his beard. And that made her angry.

  Oh, that made her so angry.

  “And all I’d have to do is have sex with you in seventeen years’ time?” she said. “I think I’d rather you kill me.”

  Alastair shook his head as he came forward. “It’s not a good idea to taunt me, Amber.”

  “Why? Are you going to try to kill me more? Jesus, no wonder Imelda dumped you.”

  “Watch it …”

  “You’re not exactly much of a man, are you?”

  Alastair gave a roar and swung a punch that Amber ducked under. She raked her claws into his side and he bellowed, tried to grab her, but she dodged away.

  “You little bitch,” he snarled.

  “Imelda told me about you,” she said, backing away. “You know the way we women like to gossip. She gave me every last detail, and she was not complimentary. Not that she had a whole lot to be complimentary about.”

  “I’m going to rip your head off,” Alastair said, stalking after her.

  “Did you really think I’d say yes?” Amber asked. “I may not be anything to look at normally, but check me out now. I am beautiful. My own mother pales in comparison beside me, doesn’t she? I wonder how that makes her feel. How does it make you feel, Alastair?”

  “Keep on talking,” he said. “Won’t make a bit of difference.”

  “My point is, I’m way too good for you. Even if I had wanted to join your club, you really think I’d settle for you? Grant, though, now he’s a good-looking man, and from what I’ve heard he wouldn’t disappoint …”

  Alastair stopped walking. He smiled coldly. “You think I was born yesterday? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

  “Of course you know what I’m doing,” she said. “I’m goading you.”

  “It’s not going to work.”

  “You moron, it already is working. You know why? Because you and I both know that everything I’m saying is one hundred per cent true, you pathetic excuse for a man.”

  He came at her too fast to dodge. One hand grabbed her while another punched. Her scales did nothing to dampen the pain. She fell back against another desk and flipped over it, landing badly. She tried to get up and he helped her with a kick to the ribs.

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, and he grabbed her jacket and hauled her to her feet when all her body wanted to do was curl up. He hit her again, and again, and when she tried to hit him back he laughed, and slammed her face into the wall.

  Two people walked by the window. She tried to shout, but all she managed was a desperate gasp, and neither Milo nor the demon that was Gregory Buxton heard her.

  Alastair’s hand closed round the back of her neck, and he pinned her in place while he peered out. “Who was that?” he whispered in her ear. “I recognised your friend, the car guy, but who was the guy with the wings?”

  She had no breath with which to answer.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Alastair. “We’ll kill them both. Do you know how strong we are right now? What am I saying? Of course you don’t. Our kind is always strongest right after feeding. If your friends want a fight, we’ll pull their damn wings off. Especially after we eat you.”

  He dragged her towards the door.

  “Why share?” she moaned.

  He stopped, twisted her head so that he could look at her. “What was that?”

  She sucked in a sliver of air. “Why share? Why not just … eat me yourself?”

  “Because that’s not how we do things.”

  She could take shallow breaths, but it was enough.

  “Wouldn’t you get even stronger?” she asked. “Is that how it … works? The more you eat … the stronger you get?
”

  “Yeah, that’s how it works.”

  “So don’t you … want to be the strongest?”

  “I’m sharing you because that’s what we do.”

  He started dragging her again.

  “Sure you’re not scared?”

  He pulled her closer, tightening his grip on the back of her neck. “What did you say?”

  Her breathing back under control, she gazed up at him. “I was just wondering if you’re scared of what the others would do if they found out you’d eaten me by yourself.”

  “This has nothing to do with being scared. This is all to do with how we do things, and we share the—”

  “Just so long as you’re not doing this because you’re scared of my dad.”

  He slammed her face down on to a desk and pain exploded behind her eyes. She crumpled to the floor. “You’re getting transparent, Amber. You’re not as sneaky as you seem to think you are. And is this really the route you want to go down – to goad me into killing you up here, right now? I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

  “Maybe not,” she mumbled.

  He grabbed her horns and hauled her up. “Be a good girl, and shut your mouth, and maybe we’ll kill you before we eat you.”

  He pushed her ahead of him and she stumbled a little. She hit a desk with her hip. Her knees almost gave way.

  “If I have to knock you out and carry you, I will,” said Alastair. “Keep going.”

  “I’m seeing double,” she said. “You hit me too hard.”

  He laughed. “Maybe that’s because this isn’t a game we’re playing. If you think I hit you too hard, are you going to think we killed you too much? Go on, quit your complaining.”

  She let herself drop to the ground.

  He stared down at her. “What do you think you’re doing? Get up.”

  “Make me.”

  He kicked her and she cried out, rolled across the floor.

  “Getting up now?”

  She sat up, rubbing her back, but went no further. “Screw you.”

  He took hold of her arm, but she let her jacket slip off. Sighing, he threw it to one side, then grabbed her horns, started dragging her to the door. Her fingers closed round the edge of a desk.

  “Jesus Christ,” Alastair muttered. “Have a little dignity, would you?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “I don’t give a crap.” He yanked back on her horns and crouched, jabbing his finger into her face. “I will beat you into a coma, you little brat, and then we’ll eat you. You got that? You hear me?”

  She whimpered.

  He let go of her horns, but kept the finger there. “You give me one more ounce of trouble and I swear to you I will—”

  She bit his finger off.

  Alastair squealed and fell back, clutching his hand. Amber spat out the finger and he lunged, grabbed her, slammed her against the wall, his fangs bared. She brought her fist down on his injured hand and he recoiled, and then she sank her own teeth into the meat of his throat.

  Hot blood gushed into her mouth. She swallowed it instinctively, even as Alastair was staggering backwards. Amber clung on. He tried desperately to detach her, but he was weakening with every moment. He fell to his knees and Amber’s weight came forward and he fell on to his back, and Amber wrenched her head to the side, coming away with a chunk of flesh.

  She swallowed that, too.

  A small part of her recoiled, but she ignored it. The taste was too good. The taste was amazing. Intoxicating. She tore out another chunk, dimly aware of the gurgling sounds Alastair was making. She chewed and swallowed and went back for more. The taste was better than anything she’d ever experienced. The blood was charged with energy, with raw power. She ate the flesh and drank the blood and it filled her and it was glorious, and the more she ate and the more she drank, the less she could hear of that small part of her, that pesky human part, that cried out in fear and disgust and dismay.

  Alastair was dead. Amber didn’t care. She ripped his shirt open and kept eating.

  That’s what demons did.

  IT DIDN’T SEEM ALL that bad anymore.

  The whole demon thing was weird, sure, but hell – so what? And as for her parents trying to kill her … that was just funny. It was, though. It was, like, the most unfortunate thing that could possibly have happened to her. Probably. She didn’t know. It was kind of hard to take anything seriously right now, if she was being honest.

  Was she laughing? She may have been laughing. She was pretty sure her laughing caught the attention of Milo and the big grey guy with wings, because they walked in to find her on the floor, covered in blood.

  “Oops,” she said.

  Milo had the strangest look on his face. Half horrified, half concerned. It was funny, and she giggled. Yup, definitely a giggle.

  “What happened?” Milo asked.

  She stopped giggling and frowned. “What do you think happened? What does it look like happened? I got the munchies.”

  “Who is that?” he asked, looking at the remains scattered around her.

  “This is Alastair,” she said. “Was Alastair. Is Alastair? It was Alastair, and it will be again, when I poop.”

  That was funny, and it made her laugh.

  “You okay?” Milo asked.

  Amber did her best to stifle her giggles. She was still in an extraordinary amount of danger, after all. “I’m great,” she said in a loud, loud whisper. “Peachy keen, jelly bean. I thought you were dead. Or Edgar told me you were dead, anyway. Hey, did you know he’s a dick? He tried to kill me.”

  Milo’s eyes widened in alarm. “Edgar?”

  “Yep. Wanted to make a blood sacrifice of me to Big Shiny. Hey, what happened to you? How come you’re palling around with the scary grey wing-monster?”

  “You can just call me Gregory,” said Buxton.

  Amber shook her head. “That’s a silly name for a wing-monster. From now on, you shall be known as … Steve.”

  “I prefer Gregory.”

  “Phillip, and that’s my final offer.”

  Milo stepped forward. “Are you drunk?”

  She clambered to her feet. “High on life, my dark and mysterious friend. Also, eating demons apparently gets you hammered, so … Who knew? I may not be able to operate heavy machinery for a little while, just to warn you.”

  “We have to get you out of here.”

  “No, no, no, Milo,” she said. The words tumbled delightfully from her mouth. “No, no, no. No. I have a plan, you see, and it is as ingenious as it is clever. Did you happen to see an old man outside?”

  “We saw him,” said Buxton. “The Shining Demon’s representative.”

  Amber nodded. “Very good, Phil. Can I call you Phil?”

  “My name’s still Gregory.”

  “That old man is indeed Big Shiny’s representative. He comes to collect their offerings of blood. He currently has five jars.” She listened to herself. She liked her voice. She liked how it sounded. Her whole life she’d been stifling that voice, choking on her own intent, but this feeling, this incredible feeling of speaking and being heard, was like the real her, the true her, bursting forth.

  It was like being born again.

  She frowned, and looked back at Milo and Buxton. “Where was I? Sorry, lost track. There are the words I’m saying and the words I’m thinking, and they’re not the same. Kind of hard to keep everything where it’s supposed to be. What was I saying?”

  Milo hesitated. “Jars of blood?”

  She snapped her fingers. “Yes! Thank you! He has five jars. He needs one more. My plan, as clever as it is ingenious, is to offer to fill that last jar myself. Once I am close enough – BABOOM!”

  Milo looked unsure. “You explode?”

  “What? No. I break the other jars.”

  “Oh.”

  “I thought she exploded, too,” said Buxton.

  “How come you two are friends?” Amber asked. “How did that happen? Did you bond ove
r how scary you can be?”

  “I caught up to him,” said Milo, “and we got talking. He’s going to help us.”

  Amber frowned. “So he wasn’t flying around, carrying you? Edgar said that’s what was happening. Though now I understand why Edgar was the one who kept on seeing you and not me. Guess he needed some way to get me here. He is a sneaky little fella, isn’t he?” She shrugged, then grinned. “So now you’re buddies. Super duper.”

  Milo winced slightly. “You’ve got, uh, something in your teeth.”

  “How embarrassing,” said Amber, using her claws to rake between her fangs. “Is it gone? Is it?”

  “It’s gone,” said Buxton. “And we should be too.”

  “Not yet,” Amber said. “I am smashing those jars. The Shining Demon’s going to be so mad at my parents and their dumb friends that no one’s gonna give two hoots about my fine red ass. So what do you say, Phil? You in?”

  “If you call me by my actual name, then yes.”

  “Cool,” said Amber. “What’s your actual name again?”

  “Gregory.”

  She frowned. “You sure it’s not Steve, Phil?”

  “I’m fairly certain.”

  “Okay then, it’s your name, you should know. What’s the plan?”

  “First we get the Charger,” said Milo. “We need a fast getaway, and Gregory isn’t able to carry us both.”

  “The creepy car it is,” Amber said, nodding. “We get the Charger, I smash the jars, we drive away. Nice plan. Good plan. Let’s do it.” She held out her hand. “Go, go, Demon Squad.”

  Buxton looked unsure.

  “It’s what we do, Gregory,” she explained. “It’s a thing. A tradition. Now that you’re fighting by our side, you’ve got to say it, too. Go ahead.”

  “Uh,” Buxton said, placing his huge grey hand on top of hers. “Go, go, Demon Squad.”

  Amber laughed, dropping her arm. “Only kidding, we don’t say that. You have no idea how dumb you just sounded.”

  “She’s usually a lot more sensible than this,” Milo muttered.

  He led the way out and Amber followed, with Buxton coming behind. He looked so odd with his wings folded up behind him. She wondered how he sat down, or leaned against stuff. She wondered if a gust of wind had ever snatched him away like a kite. She planned to ask him. These were things she needed to know.