by Carey Corp
“No. Sitting home—wondering about Becke and Jonah—would be torture.”
With a veiled expression, Derry turns away to stare out the window. “Okay, Lexi. It was just a suggestion.”
The seven blocks to Midlands seems longer than usual, almost as if the oppressiveness surrounding us is a physical mass. Like Derry’s bad feeling, it’s an omen that I’m headed in the wrong direction. But I’m done running. With the strength of my friends and foster family, I need to face my fear head on. For myself and for Becke.
When we arrive, Jonah approaches us in the courtyard. “Have you seen Becke this morning?”
When Derry says ‘no’ Jonah pulls a note from his pocket and hands it to me. “I thought she’d be here. I found this on my windshield this morning.”
Opening it, so Gabriel and Derry can read over my shoulders, I absorb the two hastily scrawled sentences. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. —B
Jonah swallows like he’s trying to keep his feelings from erupting. His halo has darkened another shade since yesterday. “It’s her handwriting. I think she’s breaking up with me. I must’ve left her at least twenty messages since yesterday. What should I do?”
“We’re going to talk to Principal Reynolds after school and ask her to intervene with Becke’s parents. Come with us.”
“Okay.”
The bell interrupts our conversation and as we reluctantly head to class, I wish the day would fast forward to the important parts. When Becke still hasn’t appeared after first period, Jonah announces, “I’m going to talk to her.” My plea for him to reconsider causes him to shake his head stubbornly. “My girlfriend’s in pain. I can’t wait and do nothing. I’ll explode.” As if to underscore his point, his ashy halo whips around him in a tight revolution before settling. His face hardens with his unwavering resolve. “I’ll see you guys later.”
By lunchtime, Jonah still hasn’t returned. It’s a bad sign. My stomach knots with tension, and I throw my half-eaten lunch away.
When we get to English, Mr. Creepy’s perched on the edge of his desk. His thick, oily halo slides around him as his beady eyes track me to my seat. “Miss Grabovski, come here please.”
With a quick, sharp squeeze, I pull my hand away from Gabriel’s iron grip and walk boldly to the front of the class. I can feel my guardian and Derry staring holes in my back, but it doesn’t matter. In that moment, all that matters is the asshole teacher in front of me. My reaction to Mr. Creepy is blunted by my reckless, antagonistic mood—a pleasant discovery—as I glare at him, defiant and mute.
“You didn’t show after school yesterday.”
Truthfully, once I decided not to go, I forgot all about it, but I don’t say this. “Sorry.” My response is flat but strong as I stare him down, provoking confrontation with my body language. “I forgot.”
“Well—” Standing, he steps leisurely toward me, leaning in until our noses nearly brush. His voice is low and smells of onions. “Do you get a thrill out of blowing me… off?” His halo whips about him as his eyes dart quickly to Gabriel and back. “Plan on spending two hours making it up to me after school today.”
Revulsion crawls up my spine, but I continue to meet his gaze without flinching. “May I sit down now?” When he nods, I walk back to my seat, grateful the Fosters will be here when school lets out. I decide to let Steven personally explain why I’ll be unable to comply with his order. If he has an issue, he can discuss it with my knights: my foster father, my best friend, and my angel.
After taking roll, Mr. Creepy’s halo undulates about him in palpable agitation. “Where are Mr. Wilkes and Miss Finch today?”
Gabriel appears stoic, but the indignation in his eyes and his blazing halo reveal he’s considering tearing Mr. Abernathy apart. “Sick, I believe.”
With a curt nod, our teacher returns to his desk. Jonah never shows.
About five minutes into the lesson, a kid walks through the door, hands Mr. Creepy a note and then leaves. As the teacher reads it, the chaotic tumble of charcoal that surrounds him stops. I watch as his halo comes alive, reshaping itself into a giant creature with a thousand snarling mouths. The mouths begin a frenzied attack on Mr. Abernathy devouring the remaining shreds of his humanity—and I see him for what he is, a demon.
Not a single student reacts as if anything is out of the ordinary. They remain as apathetic and unsuspecting as usual. Meanwhile the demon feeds, tearing at Mr. Creepy’s flesh, crunching his bones until in mere seconds, the human host has been consumed.
The sudden bile, the nausea and the fear welling inside of me are incapacitating. All I want to do is lie down in the fetal position and moan. Certain I’m about to hurl, I jump to my feet and dash to the ladies room. I don’t care that I haven’t asked permission or that I’m in the halls without a pass. Whatever just happened to my English teacher, and to me as a result, have me convinced never to go near him again. The pounding in my brain becomes a spike, forging a word over and over again. EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!
Collapsing over the toilet bowl, I grip my splintering head as my lunch comes spewing out. As I empty my stomach, I hear Gabriel and Derry barge into the girls’ room after me. I feel them wedge into the stall, pressing against my back. And I want to tell them to back off, to give me some air, but I’m heaving uncontrollably.
Finally, I collapse into a shaking heap. The boys hover above me and I realize their mouths are moving. I can’t hear them over the word-spike hammering my head. “Something’s happening,” I moan.
Gabriel leans in close to my ear. The force of his breath on my cheek indicates he’s shouting despite sounding impossibly far away. “Trust your instincts,” he says. “What are your instincts saying?”
“Evil!” I give into the refrain in my head, chanting along with it. “EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!” Saying it aloud seems to help it recede.
Gabriel’s eyes mirror the horror I feel. “You have to go protect the class from him,” I beg. He’s clearly torn, wanting to stay with me but also knowing there’s a terrible danger. “Please, you’re the only one who can face him.”
Every muscle in the Seraph’s body seems to stiffen as he agrees. Giving Derry a quick glance, he says, “Stay with Alex.” His usually brilliant halo becomes blinding. Reflexively, I shield my eyes until the light dims.
Gabriel is gone.
Derry—who’s been silent much of this time, stares after Gabriel with a look I can’t comprehend—but it breaks my heart anyway. His agonized, apologetic eyes turn to mine. “Alex—”
He must be confused and frightened by what’s happening. “I’ll explain everything,” I promise. “Later. Please help Gabriel—go protect the class.”
He looks at me so strangely—that for a moment I think he’ll object—before giving a single nod. “Stay here.”
When I am alone, I take a moment to gather myself. If I have a gift, then I ought to be able to draw from it. Find strength, get to my feet, and face the demon at the end of the hall. Fight evil. Save my friends.
Concentrating, I try to summon inner strength. In my mind’s eye, I see the halos around me. Show me my gift, I plead to anyone who might be listening. I picture the halos. The yellows and whites. The goodness. They reach for me and I begin to pull. I draw until my skin starts to tingle. Until I have the energy to get to my feet. Until I am different.
Stepping into the hall, movement in the opposite direction from English catches my eye—just a black smudge slipping out the door and into the faculty parking lot. But I sense Mr. Creepy—Evil—and I follow.
Gabriel and Derry are not here. They must be with the class. And although I have no idea why the teacher is not with them, I am relieved. I can protect them, I think. And I can end this. I have no idea what to do—but as the power of my gift courses through me, I have the urgent need to protect. To act!
Sprinting down the hallway, I quietly open the door and step outside. The day is deceptively beautiful, summer perfection.
“What do y
ou think you are doing, Mr. Wilkes?” Mr. Creepy’s authoritative voice carries through the open space from the far end of the lot.
I spin toward the voice in time to see the roiling halo of Jonah Wilkes. He points something at the teacher that stops Mr. Creepy in his tracks. Since it’s the same color as his halo, it takes me a second to recognize the gun in his hand. “Shut up!” Jonah’s voice is shredded with pain. The chaotic charcoal of his halo becomes a swirling vortex around his body. A dark tornado of hate.
But Mr. Creepy is infinitely scarier, and Jonah seems ignorant of his true form. The urge to protect my friend is overwhelming. “Jonah, don’t!”
Surprise causes Jonah to swing the gun in a wide arc. “Alex?” His panicked eyes locate me as I slowly step forward with my arms raised. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Creepy stands between us. His demon mouths snap ferociously, forcing me to halt. Peering around the evil, I focus on the boy with the gun. “Jonah, you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“Get out of here, Alex.”
The door bangs. Out of the corner of my eye I see two forms moving toward me. Two knights.
Before I can stop him, Gabriel reaches for me. With fluid grace, he moves around me to become a barrier between Mr. Creepy and Jonah’s gun. Just like the early days, Gabriel stands in the gap. Derry’s at my side too—I feel his hand grip mine—but he can only see the danger of the gun, not the demon.
Gabriel takes a step forward, hands raised to shoulder height with his palms open. Calmly, while Mr. Creepy’s mouths snarl at him, Gabriel pleads to Jonah, “Put the gun down.”
“You too, Gabriel!” Jonah’s face twists in betrayal. “Derrick, get them out of here.”
Derry’s whole body shakes against mine, but he stands his ground. “Only if you come with us.”
“Sorry, dude. Mr. Abernathy and I have unfinished business.” Jonah turns his attention back to the teacher. Although the hand holding the gun trembles, his halo continues to churn with violence. Noticing that Mr. Creepy has used the distraction to edge forward, Jonah barks, “Step back, you sick fuck!”
Mr. Creepy’s mouths howl in outrage. When he speaks, his voice is a bone chilling monotone. Not one voice, but a thousand raspy voices, a thousand dripping mouths moving in unison. “Whatever you think you’re doing, Mr. Wilkes, we assure you, you won’t get away with it.”
“Shut up, you fuck! Becke’s dead!”
Someone—maybe me—gasps in shock. Although I don’t want it to be true, it somehow fits—the oppressiveness, the omens—the pieces of the puzzle shifting into place. But this is the kind of puzzle that once you solve it, it triggers something terrible and unstoppable, a door opening to release unspeakable horrors. A Pandora’s box.
Shuffling backwards, all I can think is that I should’ve been able to stop this from happening. That I can still stop it—if I can just get my sluggish brain to reengage. Think, I tell myself, think!
A glance at Derry’s severe features reinforces the awful suspicions he’s harbored since the morning are confirmed. How could he have possibly known? And how did I not?
If I’d known—even suspected—I could’ve stopped—prevented—maybe—if I’d—listened to Gabriel—instead of running from my gift.
Suddenly the air’s too dense. A rasping sound creaks from my throat. Derry’s fingers squeeze my hand, nearly crippling me with pain. “Stop it, Alex!” His low growl forces me out of my shell-shocked recrimination. “You can’t fall apart right now.” He’s right.
Breathing deeply, I angle myself so that I can better focus my attention on the threats in front of us. Inside his swirling, dark halo, Jonah’s quaking. Although the situation is dire, I can see he doesn’t wants to shoot anyone. I’ve failed Becke but maybe I can still save him. I owe it to her to try.
“Jonah, please.”
“Shut up Alex!”
One of the demon’s larger mouths begins to reform into the face of Mr. Abernathy. With a wet sucking sound, it begins to feed on the hate and violence surrounding Jonah. Something twisted, like perverse pleasure, settles just under the surface of its features.
The satisfaction emanating from it causes me to blurt out, “Oh God, what did you do?”
Mr. Creepy answers me in the same stereo monotone, “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Reaching his free hand into his pocket, Jonah takes out a piece of lined notepaper identical to the one Becke left on his windshield and the one Mr. Creepy received in class. He tosses it at the teacher. “Read it,” he commands.
When Mr. Abernathy makes no move to pick it up, Jonah makes a stabbing motion with the gun. “Pick it up now and READ IT!”
A mouth snaps before opening wide enough for an arm to protrude and pick up the paper. Mr. Creepy’s eyes silently scan the page. When Jonah growls, “Aloud!” a thousand raspy throats clear before reading in whispery unison: “To whom it may concern. Something terrible happened to me. I was raped, but there’s a conspiracy to make me think it’s all in my mind. Even my parents don’t believe me. They want to put me in a place for head cases. But I’m not crazy! I told Alex my boyfriend did it. But I was wrong. I realize that it was someone else. I’m sorry I accused you Jonah. You would never hurt me. I know that now and I’m so SORRY. Now I see everyone will be better off if I’m gone, including me. To whoever finds my body, I’m sorry about that too… Becke.”
Tears roll down Jonah’s cheeks, as his halo continues to circle him in a destructive whirlwind of grief. “She took her whole bottle of pills.”
Eyes narrowing, Mr. Creepy declares, “Miss Finch was a very troubled girl.” His mouth-arm lifts the paper, giving it a shake. “Obviously delusional.”
The teacher’s words cause the tumultuous vortex of Jonah’s halo to thicken into something opaque and chillingly ominous—more black hole than tornado. Stepping forward with the gun pointed at Mr. Creepy’s head, Jonah states, “I broke into your car.”
While the composure of the head that looks like Mr. Creepy cracks, the rest of the mouths begin to wheeze. Though I don’t understand the significance of Jonah’s words, their impact is undeniable.
Jonah continues, “I found your gun—and the handcuffs. The clock on your dashboard is an hour and a half slow. Last week when you drove Becke home, she said you dropped her off at 4:05 but it was really 5:35. What did you do to her in those ninety minutes?”
The wheezing becomes a hoarse chuckle. Cold evil laughter rumbles over everything. The sound causes my stomach to lurch.
“What did you do? Did you drug her?” Jonah gags on the last word, choking down his revulsion.
Rather than answer, the mouths contort grotesquely into a thousand sly smiles. Mr. Abernathy licks his lips. He grins perversely at Jonah but remains eerily silent.
“You fucker! You did! How did you do it?” When Mr. Creepy remains mute, Jonah shouts, “Answer me!”
Suddenly I know.
“The water—” Pushing my way between Derry and Gabriel, I give Jonah the answers he so desperately needs. “He never has any water on his desk during class, but after school he uses a pitcher. He offered some to me when I stayed after, and Becke said when she started to feel sick, he gave her some more water. But the water was drugged. It’s what made her sick in the first place. That’s how he does it.” I try to step forward again, but Derry and Gabriel are each gripping one of my forearms, anchoring me in place.
The tumultuous, churning void of Jonah’s halo continues to spiral with impossible speed. So low, that I nearly doubt my hearing, he growls, “Not anymore.” Jonah’s free hand lifts Becke’s phone—barely visible inside the vortex. He’s recording. “Confess!” he demands.
I hear the soft click of the catch on the gun, but Mr. Creepy’s mouths just laugh with perverse glee. “You don’t have the guts,” he taunts. “You’re an impotent little failure—you couldn’t even satisfy your girlfriend, so we had to do it for you.”
A sob wrenches from Jonah’
s throat and his halo explodes outward. As it surrounds the demon, the hideous mouths begin to suck—to feed on Jonah’s darkness. I know they will not stop until they consume Jonah’s essence. Until they devour him.
Without thinking, I jerk my hands from their restraints and rush forward. I have to protect him. “Jonah, no!”
My whole body tingles with borrowed energy, but painful like touching live wires. I see something, not a halo exactly, but something good—pure, white—rushing down my arms and outward toward the evil. It hurts.
My power surrounds Jonah and the demon, pushing at their halos in an effort to get them apart.
As Mr. Creepy howls in fury, Gabriel grabs for my arm. “Alex, stop! You’re not ready.”
Grinding my teeth with effort, I snarl, “I can do this. This is my gift, remember.” Every muscle in my body is rigid with effort as I push at the darkness to save my friend. I’m stronger than the demon. I feel the truth of it in every molecule of my being. I can defeat him.
Closing my eyes in concentration, I pull from the energy around me—from Derry, from Gabriel. Gabriel’s halo comes at me like an earthquake. It rumbles through me and a tsunami, a great rolling wave of righteousness crashes over the demon.
A thousand mouths begin to scream in an ear shattering pitch as the demon is cast out. It retreats, letting go of my friend. But the power I’ve unleashed hurls Jonah across the parking lot. I can’t control it—can’t stop it from happening.
“Lexi!” I hear Derry’s strangled cry in the second before the gun goes off. A deafening blast shatters my eardrums as Gabriel pushes me down. The shot rips apart the atmosphere as I go tumbling into the unforgiving pavement. Everything goes deathly silent.
Lying in a tangled heap, pain radiates from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, as stars dance behind my eyes. I know I’m shot, so I lay still waiting for the excruciating sting of death to sear my body. When it doesn’t come, I wonder if I’m already dead. Except my shoulder and chin throb from being smashed against the asphalt. Derry and Gabriel’s bodies cover me, their warm, heavy weight crushing the air from my lungs until I can’t breathe.
