by Adam Dark
14
It was definitely a bad idea to try to focus on writing the half-truth of his dissertation with late-night TV playing in the background. Ben had turned it up as loud as he thought he could get away with before his neighbors pounded on the walls. He’d known this when he started, but he did it anyway. If he couldn’t focus under ideal conditions—right, like those even existed anymore—it didn’t matter that he couldn’t focus with all the other noise around him. The TV was the least of it.
He couldn’t believe they’d just basically signed Chase on, for lack of a better term, to what amounted to a trial run of his demon-sighting skills. Or maybe just his ability to find information they couldn’t. The dark web? Seriously? If that was just a load of bull, it made Chase a really crappy liar who thought a lot more highly of himself than he deserved. If it was true, it meant Ben, Peter, and April might be setting themselves up for some even weirder stuff in the future that might not have anything to do with demons, thanks to a guy who thought a lot more highly of himself than he deserved. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that the first thing on that otherwise useless list had been a total homerun for them. Case in point—the rose-stained crystal making its home in the wooden cabinet at Peter’s apartment.
Ben stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen, having changed the last sentence he’d written for his dissertation three times in the last half hour before deleting it completely. Then his phone vibrated, and that was enough to completely shatter whatever concentration he’d been pretending to put into his work.
It was a text from Peter.
—Did we really tell him he could help us? Or did I dream it? Just woke up.—
Ben looked at the time—10:14 p.m. If he was the one who stayed up late and still managed to encourage his sleeping habits from high school—mostly sleeping until ten or eleven in the morning unless he actually had to be somewhere—Peter was the one who slept like a baby. And that saying was totally full of crap, because babies didn’t sleep all calm and peaceful through the night. They slept like they had no idea what sleep was and couldn’t comprehend the fact that other people needed it at certain times. Weird that he knew this as a twenty-two-year-old senior in college with no kids, but he’d never forget the night he spent at his Aunt Tammy and Uncle Jonathan’s house when he was seven. His youngest cousin Brittney was maybe six months old, and while everyone else in the house seemed perfectly fine with being woken up every three hours and passing right back out again, it was Ben’s waking nightmare. Well, at least until that night at the house in Oakwood Valley eleven years ago. Maybe it had scarred him for life and he was still making up for the sleep he lost that night. Maybe babies slept better these days.
‘I don’t know what I just listened to,’ Ian said, ripping Ben from what he realized was the most ridiculous line of thinking he’d entertained in, oh, maybe the last week. Minus actually agreeing to let Chase join them.
“Yeah, me neither,” Ben said. He closed his laptop without even pressing save because whatever he’d written in the last two hours was crap anyway. Then he grabbed his phone again and texted Peter back.
—Yeah. We told him. Probationary period, remember? If he screws up, he’s out.—
Probationary period. Ben had never really been in trouble with the law—as long as he wasn’t counting the six months after that night when all of Oakwood Valley and anyone who watched the news thought he and Peter had killed four of their friends in that abandoned house, or the night two months ago when they went back for Ian and the Guardian, burned down that same house, and faced a half-assed interrogation by the OVPD who actually told Ben they felt better now that the abandoned orphanage was ash and crumbled ruins. But the term itself seemed to imply that whoever entered said probationary period had already done something wrong before they began. ‘You’re on probation. Don’t screw it up, or there’s no more Get Out of Jail Free Card for you. And I’ll take that two hundred dollars.’ But it fit for Chase; the guy had already started out on both wrong feet. Repeatedly.
‘Dude, you’ve only ever played Monopoly like twice,’ Ian said.
“The metaphor still works—wait. What?” He gave Ian a few seconds to try to explain that one, which he knew was more than enough time for a disembodied spirit who had spent thirty-thousand years in the spirit realm over the course of eleven years for Ben. Ian didn’t say a thing. “Are… are you going through my memories now?”
Nothing.
“Ian.”
‘It just happened, okay?’ Really, the guy did a great job of playing up his twelve-year-old voice to its maximum potential of pitiful. ‘I didn’t know I could do that.’
“Well cut it out. Those are mine.”
‘So was your body. And your thoughts.’
“Yeah, so I should be able to keep something for myself.” Ben swung his legs up onto the couch and leaned back against the armrest with a huge sigh.
‘Okay. Sorry.’
He got another text from Peter.
—I hope he screws up.—
Ben almost laughed, but he didn’t quite have the energy for it.
—No you don’t.—
—Yeah. Then we’d just have to pick up the pieces.—
Peter definitely had a point with that one. So far, there hadn’t really been any pieces for them to pick up, which was pretty freakin’ preferred, honestly. Chase would either make things easier for them—and potentially for a lot of other people they might help by sucking these demons into not-so-fancy rocks—or he’d just make a big heaping mess out of the whole thing. Even though they hadn’t left a trail of breadcrumbs with what they were doing, as far as Ben knew, they still had plenty of things they needed to work out. Like what they were supposed to do once they filled up that wooden cabinet with ten demon crystals. And how they were supposed to know if it would really do what the annoyingly vague sticky note had said. And who the heck had sent it to Peter’s apartment in the first place.
Chase had obviously been watching them long enough to know they’d be at Speedy Joe’s yesterday and to know where to dig for the facts about Ben’s past. That was creepy enough. But the guy had flat-out denied having sent the wooden cabinet. So that meant there was somebody else out there watching them, knowing they were going after these demonic forces, and sending them the one thing they didn’t know they needed right before Peter lost his mind or froze to death in his apartment. Or before that first demon stone exploded and released one super pissed-off inmate. Maybe all of those things would have happened.
Ben didn’t like owing people favors. He liked not knowing who he owed a favor to even less.
—How’s the cabinet?— he sent to Peter.
—Nothing happening. My heat’s still on.—
—Cool.—
‘Not an intentional play on words?’ Ian asked.
Ben just rolled his eyes and turned up the TV’s volume as much as he dared. If his neighbors didn’t like it, they’d just have to deal with it. None of them had a friend constantly spouting unnecessary observations in their head for the rest of their life. Probably.
The next morning, Ben’s ability to concentrate on what the rest of the world seemed to prioritize above so many other important aspects of adulting—namely college, in this instance—hadn’t returned at all. Neither had his confidence in their decision to let Chase come along for a few demon-hunting joyrides. Oh, right. He’d never felt very good about that in the first place.
He got an email from Dr. Montgomery asking if any of the dates in March she provided would work for them to have a progress meeting before Spring Break. He wanted to reply with, ‘Any of those work for me. If I’m even still alive in March.’ But that was definitely the best way to turn scheduling a progress meeting into becoming the subject of a suicide intervention. Which was the last thing he needed and the last thing even on his mind. Okay, the possibility of him one day getting his butt lethally handed to him by one of these demons and joining Ian forever in the spirit realm was defini
tely on his mind. But never death by his own hand. If he’d wanted to go that route, he would have done it a long time ago.
The rest of that snowy Wednesday afternoon he spent in equal parts seriously psyching himself out about the validity of the un-redacted list Chase was supposed to bring them and worrying about the fact that he hadn’t heard from April since Monday. Their conversation at Bert’s Diner could have qualified as an argument, and it felt unnervingly like a breakup. Which was stupid, because he and April didn’t have anything to break up. She was probably really busy with all the stuff she said she had to do for her classes—if she’d even been telling the truth about that. The whole weird incident with that guy in the jester hat calling her Arcady Monday night made Ben wonder how much of the truth April had decided to share about anything lately. She’d been really uptight, and he hadn’t thought anyone would oppose bringing Chase on more than Peter. Until April had made it pretty clear that she did.
No, it wasn’t like they’d spent long nights together sharing the secrets of their lives and revealing the best and worst parts of themselves to each other. They’d shared a few things when it was absolutely necessary, and that had been in warm, well-lit, public places. No strings attached, other than the giant demon-hunting thing dangling in front of all of them on a massive cable. But Ben would have liked to have a few strings connecting him to April. She was making that pretty impossible with her cold-shoulder method.
He couldn’t help it; he had to test that theory. If she was ignoring him, fine, he guessed. Ben decided to text her anyway, because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on with her and that if he reached out, she might be willing to open up about it. At least, that was more likely when they weren’t sitting at a table at Speedy Joe’s with Peter right there, too.
—How you doin?—
That was all he texted her. When it came to messages, at least, they’d always been on the same page. Short and to the point. Maybe not always sweet. She got back to him just a few minutes later.
—Busy. Lots of stuff for class.—
Well the answer didn’t surprise him. At least she was consistent.
Then he realized it was 3:45 p.m. and he and Peter had said they’d get to Speedy Joe’s at 4:00 again in case they had to talk about anything else before Chase showed up. They didn’t actually have anything more to talk about until they saw his list. Ben still wanted to feel at least a little like they were more in control of this decision than Chase, like he hadn’t basically chased them into a corner they couldn’t escape without his help. Hadn’t made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. Getting there early felt like it would help with that little bit of self-assurance, and he imagined Peter thought the same thing about it. It was Peter’s idea, anyway. And now Ben was already late for being early.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and made sure his wallet and keys were still there too. Yesterday’s pants and all.
‘You’re not gonna say anything else?’ Ian asked.
“About what?” Ben grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and tried jamming his feet into his boots until he finally gave in and took a minute to untie the laces.
‘To April. That’s it?’
“Yep.” She was busy. Now she knew he was thinking about her, and if she wanted to reach out and say anything else, she would. If not, well, he was busy too.
‘Look at you. Playing hard to get and everything.’
Ian had only been living—or not-living—inside his head for a few months, but Ben sometimes found himself already wishing that he could close a door on his friend’s spirit as easily as closing the door to his apartment behind him.
Ben stopped at the counter long enough to pay the two dollars and fifty cents, plus tax, for a bottle of water before he went to join Peter at the same table in the corner. He definitely didn’t feel like adding caffeine to his already bristling nerves. It was weird enough being this nervous about getting Chase’s list—and probably sitting down with Chase again. Like they were on some kind of weird, backwards date. Forget that it was just three dudes. And he’d been here three times now since Sunday, which was more than he liked to be anywhere but his apartment in that amount of time. Ben hoped the three guys sitting at the corner table for their passive-aggressive power-struggle session didn’t become a daily staple at Speedy Joe’s.
Peter sat staring at the lid of his coffee cup and didn’t seem to notice Ben standing at the table at all. But he jumped a little and looked up when Ben cracked the seal on his bottle of water and took a long drink. “You’re late,” he said.
Ben shrugged and took a seat. “We’re both early.” Twenty minutes early, now, after Ben’s late start. For which he really didn’t have an excuse.
“You hear from April at all?”
“Just a little,” Ben said. “She’s busy with school stuff.”
“Right.” Peter looked back down at his coffee. “Is it weird to you that we’re doing this without her here?”
Part of Ben wanted to make some kind of jab at Peter, because it seemed like the guy was finally coming to accept how much they really did need her help in all this. Maybe he was even starting to just want her here. Yeah, April had pretty much muscled her way into what had just been Ben and Peter’s thing—mostly because no one had believed them eleven years ago and no one would believe them now. After banishing the Guardian and still having enough guts to keep talking to them on a regular basis, though, she’d been a core part of everything else they were doing. So Ben swallowed the lame joke.
“Yeah,” he said instead. “It’s a little weird. That’s what she said she wanted, though, right? We deal with Chase, and she sits it out. She’ll come with us for the next… thing.”
Peter smirked. “She called it a mission.”
Ben let himself chuckle a little. “We really gotta come up with a better word for it.”
“Yeah we do.”
They just sat there for a minute, giving Ben plenty of time to wonder why they were talking about April like she’d moved away and they’d never see her again. Like she’d died or something. Jeeze, that was morbid. Well, when people went through a lot of creepy and honestly terrifying stuff together, not having them around anymore felt almost just as creepy and terrifying. He’d felt the same thing about his friendship with Peter kind of falling apart. That was before the frat-house demon and his crashed almost-first date with April. Two months ago felt like years at this point.
Apparently, they’d run out of things to say, because they just sat there for the next fifteen minutes until Chase showed up five minutes early. And look at that—he was wearing the same baggy black jeans and navy hoodie as the other three times they’d seen him. The fact that Ben was also wearing his clothes from yesterday only made it a little less gross.
Chase caught sight of them instantly and bypassed the order counter altogether. They were getting down to business. Or maybe he just didn’t want extra caffeine, either. The guy had left his dark beanie at home, though, and a mop of curly blond hair bounced on his head as he walked toward them like he hadn’t seen his two best friends in months. And Ben hated to admit it, but the hair and the guy’s blue eyes and his cocky smile all bundled together in this walking, talking thorn in their side actually made him not-that-bad-looking. Was that why April didn’t want anything to do with their get-togethers? Was she attracted to the guy?
Nope. Just … no.
Their newest probationary addition reached the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down without saying anything. The smile never left his face.
“So…” Ben started, having no idea where to begin.
Chase shifted in his chair and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. Then he all but slammed it down onto the table and sat back again. “Go on. Check it out. It’s all there.”
Oh, come on. He made it sound like some kind of highly illegal deal with large stacks of cash sitting in a suitcase on the table. It was just a list.
Peter
nodded at him, and Ben grabbed the paper. The fact that he didn’t see any thick black lines even before he fully unfolded it was a good sign. When he laid it flat again on the table, he grimaced automatically at the line of red ink scratched through the first item—the demon at Buckley Playground. Cute.
They all gazed at the list for a few seconds—eleven items of two lines each, all with the reporting sources, dates of the most recent sightings, locations, and times. And a large number written in black ink at the end of each item.
Peter leaned forward. “Okay—”
“Okay, so I have them listed here from most recently reported sightings first,” Chase began, almost lurching forward in his chair to begin. His wide, excited eyes never left the list, and Ben looked up to meet Peter’s gaze. Neither of them had expected the guy to be this enthusiastic. “The farther down the list, the longer it’s been since someone’s posted something about that specific… occurrence. I just thought this might be easiest, right? But I can sort them any way you want. Number of reported sightings. Most frequently reported. Dates, times, threat level—”
“Threat level?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, that’s what these numbers are at the end.”
“You wrote those in,” Ben said.
Chase frowned a little and scratched his head. “I mean, there isn’t exactly a huge pool of people trying to analyze all this data. As far as I know. So I categorized them by threat level. You know, to potential victims, to any witnesses.” He looked up at Ben and grinned. “To anybody trying to shove the thing into a rock and a shiny box.”
“Based on what?” Peter looked a lot less cynical and now just flat-out nervous.
“On what happened afterward to the victims,” Chase replied. “I mean, it’s not like there’s any corroborated evidence for this kind of thing. But I’ve been putting freaky news stories together with the sightings, cross-referencing them, figuring out like what guy blew his head off after this sighting or what lady killed her cat and drank its blood in the same neighborhood as three reported accounts of activity.”
