A Night of Flame and Blood

by Elisabeth Huerta

  He gave a heart stopping smile. “You catch on fast.” I took that as a yes. I slid out of the car in one swift motion and watched as he drove away.

  I was more confused about Daston than ever. I shivered a little when I realized I was starting to trust him; I mean if he really was a murderer wouldn’t he have killed me when I was with him. He could have easily drove me somewhere secluded and killed me.

  Chapter 9

  I tiptoed into my house and quietly shut the door behind me, it made a squeak sound. I winced when I heard it; my father had bionic ears he could hear a drop of milk from miles away.

  “Brianna Guerra,” I flinched at the full use of my name. “Where have you been?” I turned around slowly, almost savoring the last nano seconds I had before I was met with my dad.

  His shrewd eyes, the same brown color as mine, stared at me with a mixture of concern and bemusement.

  “I was with Robert.” I said quickly.

  My father crossed his arms. “You know you have to tell us when you leave. No one knew where you had gone.”

  I gave him a sincere apology, promising to never again leave without telling them. I was more of a daddy’s girl; my mother always preferred Rebecca because she could take her shopping and buy her little dresses that highlighted her beautiful face. Rebecca looks like a younger version of my mother, so she was able to parade her daughter with the angel face around. When I came, let’s just say I wasn’t the most attractive baby; I definitely grew into my looks. While my mother took Rebecca to do girly things my father took me out to play sports. We too became distant in the same way all adolescents get distant from their parents, but he understands me more. He is not like the rest of my family; he doesn’t try to change me into something I am not.

  “I’m holding you to that promise.” He said sternly. “Do you know how worried I was when I found out you were gone.”

  “Sorry.” I said in a small voice. I did not like to make my dad worried. His voice started taking up a deeper twinge of his Mexican accent when he was worried.

  “It’s ok.” He patted me in the back. “Just don’t do it again, ok, baby girl.”

  I smiled; I loved it when he used that nickname. I felt like a five year old girl again, when he and I would pass the soccer ball around. He would always say, you’re doing great baby girl, even though I really wasn’t.

  “Alright, Dad.”

  “Now go to the kitchen and eat, your mom noticed you did not eat anything.” I was so stuffed. I really did not feel like eating.

  “I’m kind of full.” He looked at me strangely. “I ate at Robert’s house.” The lies rolled smoothly out of my mouth.

  “Brianna!” My mother, called me from the kitchen. “Brianna, get in here.”

  I nodded towards the kitchen and walked away from my dad. My mother was sitting down on the table looking out of our small white curtained window.

  “I saw something interesting a couple of minutes ago.” My mom told me ominously.

  “And what was it?” My dad answered for me as he walked into the kitchen behind me.

  She turned around and looked at me with a smug smile. “I don’t know.” Her eyes twinkled with glee. “I might have seen a black Mercedes pull up, one that a handsome young man was driving.”

  I gasped out loud.

  “And.” she continued, “I might have seen a certain daughter of mine climb out of that car.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Care to explain Brianna.”

  I gulped audibly. The silence was thickening but my father broke it. “Rebecca sneaked out with some boy. Hell, I didn’t even see her get out.” He shook his head.

  “Jose.” My mother admonished. “I wasn’t talking about Rebecca; I was talking about Brianna.” My mom’s voice went soft.

  My dad’s eyes went as wide as saucers. It took him a while to answer but when he did, I was shocked to hear a smile in his voice. “So much for being at Robert’s house.” He laughed.

  I did not get it, weren’t parents supposed to be mad when they found out that their child had lied to them about being with a boy.

  “Why do you guys look so happy?”

  “Because sweetie.” My mother turned her blue eyes towards me. “I’m happy that you’re getting more friends, maybe even a boyfriend.”

  I was left slack jawed. Daston was most definitely not my boyfriend.

  “Shouldn’t you guys act like parents and tell me I can’t date. Especially you dad, I thought higher of you than this complete disregard of my dating life.”

  “Baby girl, at this point I’m just happy you have a dating life.” Well I never. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or upset.

  “Calm down.” I shushed them. “We were not on a date, we just—.

  We just had dinner, he paid for my food, he picked me up in his car and he drove me back home. It all sounded exactly like a date. We bantered, we talked, we laughed, we got to know a little more about each other. Did I go on a date and not even know it?

  “You just what?” My mother asked anxiously.

  “Damn, I think I did go on a date. Fuck he is smooth” I said shocked. My mother raised her eyebrows at my profanity, I gave her an apologetic look. I went on a date with Daston. I lived the dream that every girl from my high school had.

  “Wait a minute.” My dad put his hand up to silence us. “I know I’m being lenient, but I still expect this guy to come meet me.”

  “Come meet us.” My mother chipped in. “You can invite him to dinner.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. You guys are going too far, we had like one date. Tomorrow he can wake up and never talk to me again, ignoring me for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t get to mellow dramatic, this isn’t a soap opera. No one actually does that in the real world. And if they do well then they are not worth it.” My father signaled with his hands that that would be the end of my paranoia.

  “Besides, what’s not to like. You have a body that can be envied if you put on the right cloths. And with a little help from my makeup your face will be glowing with beauty. He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” Here it came, the inevitable you need a makeover talk. I knew it was just a matter of time before my mother brought it up.

  “Lily.” My father reprimanded my mother. “She is fine just the way she is; if this boy won’t like her unless she’s got makeup and girly dresses then he’s not worth it.” My father ended the conversation and I almost high fived him for standing in my favor.

  I got out of the kitchen to avoid any further third degree my mom seemed to be dishing out and went to my room.

  I spent the next hour busying myself with school work. Calculus especially took up a great deal of my time, with all the derivatives and anti-derivatives. I mean why have an anti-derivative; is it like the derivatives evil brother?

  I was in the middle of my English homework when I snapped. I could not keep up the pretense anymore. The book was lying comfortably on my desk, begging me to open it. I had avoided it long enough.

  As soon as I realized it, I ran the short distance to my desk and slammed open the book in my eagerness.

  I scanned the same words I remembered—silly of me to believe anything had changed. Still, I went through it all pausing at the page I discovered this morning—really this morning, it seemed much longer than that.

  There was something about this page, the yellowed paper held much meaning to me. The shadow and the ritual, those were the only parts in the book that alluded towards my dreams. I knew they were important when I read it. I knew that this is what I was seeing: A demon summoning ritual.

  The portals of hell would have to open in order for a demon to come out. And somebody performed the ritual using Michelle’s blood. Was there a psycho killer out there? Is that what Daston was trying to tell me? That there was a deranged murderer on the loose, one that believes in demons and is killing women to try to get what he wants. But why couldn’t he just tell me that? Unless, what did Daston say? He said something about not b
eing too quick to discredit the book. Could it be that Daston believes in all of this demon crap?

  The cold truth hit me. Of course, Daston believes in it, how else could he believe in my dreams. I felt like an idiot. The only one who believes my dreams is a guy who believes in demons. That thought did not help, in fact it discouraged me. How could I believe I was seeing Michelle’s death? Michelle was probably having a big laugh over the scandal she created. Maybe she went to Hollywood to pursue her dream of becoming an actress. She could be anywhere and having a dream that she was killed did not mean anything. People have dreams all the time and they don’t blow it into this huge deal. They usually forget about them. Which was exactly what I was going to do.

  I had to convince myself that Michelle was alive, that she was well. Only she wasn’t.

  Chapter 10

  The ten o clock news broke it first. The body of a sixteen year old girl was found in the trunk of a car. Neighbors had reported a foul smell coming from inside the car. The police were all over the scene ruling the cause of death as murder. According to the reporters there was a gash in the victim’s neck. I didn’t need to see the next headline to know who it was, Michelle Summers.

  I woke up the next morning, startled. My heartbeat thumped erratically, and I was taking shallow gasps of air. Finding Michelle’s body only made everything more real, more scary. The images of my latest dream were etched permanently into my mind. I just wanted this to be over already.

  I spent the rest of the morning getting ready, trying to avoid the dream at all cost. But even as I finished dressing, I could not help a glance at the book. The early morning light shined through my window landing directly on my desk, illuminating the book. I made a fast decision and grabbed it, stuffing it into my backpack. It might come in handy when I needed to beat the shit out of someone, I told myself. But I knew that was not the only reason.

  My eyes glanced quickly toward the bottom of my bed. I was not desperate enough to get it. What was hidden underneath would hopefully never come to use. I rushed down the stairs, I was running late, and barely managed to grab a banana before I was shoved out the door by my sister.

  It was a strange morning; Rebecca did not say one word to me. Even as she evaluated my outfit, she kept her mouth shut. We were usually quiet, but we always exchanged at least a couple of words. Rebecca kept her head inclined straight ahead; blue eyes always on the road, pink pouty lips set in a grim line. Something was not right. I wondered if she heard the news.

  “Rebecca.” I said breaking the silence. “Are you ok?”

  She did not answer.

  “Is this because of Michelle?

  She glanced at me confused. “Michelle, why would this be about her?”

  “Because of what happened to her.”

  She scoffed “I didn’t know her. So, she died, big deal, from what I remembered she was an attention whore. She was annoying if you ask me.”

  “Okay then.” I said quickly. I knew Rebecca and Michelle did not really talk, but you tend to talk nice about someone once they’re dead. At least most of us do. The irony was that when Rebecca arrives at school she was going to act as if Michelle was a saint. She can only ever be real with me. “Why were you so quiet?”

  “You still don’t get it do you.” She looked upset. “Don’t you even remember what you did?”

  “Umm no.” What did I do? She looked at me expectantly. “What?” I asked.

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Yes.” I was completely perplexed.

  “You,” she glanced at me before turning her eyes back on the road, “you went out with Daston yesterday evening.” Oh, that. “You did not even invite me.”

  “How did you know about that?” I gasped.

  “I saw you get out of his car from my window.” She sounded mad. “What the hell Brianna, you know that I like him. That I’ve wanted to talk to him for like ever, and you’re trying to snag him from under me.”

  I could tell that she was trying to make me feel bad. It kind of worked. I mean, my sister did like him, and I was being a pretty fucked up sister by going out with him; but in my defense it was not my fault.

  “It’s not what you think. It was not a date or anything, he just needed to tell me a few things.” I told Rebecca.

  “Really, then why didn’t you tell me to come. I told you to invite me the next time you two hanged out” She looked betrayed. It pulled at my heartstrings.

  “Because Daston had to tell me some private things.” I put my hands up when she shot me a glare. “Totally platonic things.

  “Really?’

  “Definitely.”

  She looked like she did not quite believe me. “Then why did you last so long getting home. It wouldn’t have taken that long.”

  “Because he took me to eat—

  “Aha. I knew it.” She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “Let me finish. He only took me out to eat because he needed to ask me questions on umm,” I thought of something fast, “on calculus. He needed help with his homework, and since I’m the only person he’s talked to, he thought he could ask me. It took us a long time to finish the work.”

  “And that’s it?” She asked skeptically.

  “Yep.”

  “Good.” She immediately relaxed. “I knew it couldn’t be anything. Especially with how you looked. No offense sis, but you kind of looked like shit yesterday.” Great, just great.

  She turned on the radio and started humming to the upbeat pop song that was playing. She was completely happy that Daston was still free. Too bad he was more freaky than she likes. I would love to see the look on her face when she finds out Daston has more things in common with Robert than with her.

  As soon as we got to school, the topic of everyone’s conversation was Michelle. The students were huddled in little circles talking in hushed tones. Many were speculating over who could have done it. Someone even went as far as suggesting that she paid someone to do it so she could be the focus of attention. I could not believe someone was stupid enough to suggest that. It boiled my blood even more to find people agreeing with them. That was the first time I rushed to first period.

  I sat in my usual seat and fidgeted, my knee kept bouncing up and down, and I could not make it stop. Everyone kept running their mouth about Michelle, I could not escape her.

  Bradley was once again sitting in the seat behind mine, thankfully. I really needed to talk to Daston. He might be the only one who could help me. This whole Michelle thing was driving me crazy. And last night’s dream kept replaying in my mind every time I closed my eyes. It was not a normal dream. In my dream there were always two people: Michelle and the shadow. But this time when I surfaced into the candle covered room someone else appeared.

  I stood in my normal spot as I watched Michelle’s impending doom. I watched as the shadowed man emptied her blood in a bowl and drew with it upon the floor. My usual dreams had only gone this far. I was surprised when I watched him finish the drawing, he never finished the drawing. His blood covered hand traced the image. He stood and turned his back on the drawing, as if he did not want to see it. The room had gotten so hot, I was surprised I didn’t burst into flames. And then, impossibly so, it got hotter. I could barely breathe; the heat ensnared me in a cocoon. My vision blurred, but I felt rather than saw the huge hole that appeared in the center of the room. The room shook and the floor crumbled to bits opening a four foot wide hole.

  I chanced a glance and felt my breath come in rasps, a mist appeared to leak out of the hole. It looked like smog, it got darker and chunkier. Even worse, the feeling it brought sucked at my soul. I was drained of everything only to be replaced by a deep burning that scratched at my insides, like a monster burst free in my belly. In that moment I wanted to die. I wanted to be taken away from this world to escape the horror I was feeling. I would do anything to leave; as soon as the thought entered my head the mist gravitated in my direction, as if I had called it. In my lucrative state t
he mist appeared to have eyes, eyes that saw through me. Eyes that knew I was there.

  As afraid of the black mist as I was, there was something familiar about it. Seeing it had resurfaced some old memories. When I was eleven, there was a whole month I got weird dreams. It was right after people started calling me a freak. In these dreams a dark mist would appear. It would have dark piercing eyes. I was always scared of it. The feeling it brought burned me to the bone. I would wake up screaming like a lunatic. My dad would come rushing into my room to calm me down, I was hysterical. I would cry into his chest each night and tell him they were out to get me. He would always ask what, what baby girl, what is out to get you? And I would answer back, demons. Demons were out to get me.

  I was transported back into the presence when Daston entered the classroom. His tall frame walked through the door, menacing and charming all at once.

  He took the seat next to mine, his dark hair in its usual disarray. One glance towards me told him everything. He knew that I knew. It was written all over my face. We sat in silence. I wanted nothing more than to harass him with questions. Everyone in class was gossiping about Michelle, they would not notice.

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  “I know what you’re going to say.” Daston interrupted. “And let me tell you now that I am not going to answer them here.”

  I huffed in annoyance and closed my mouth. Why do I always have to wait for him?

  The class quieted down once Mr. Hanna entered. He did not acknowledge any of us; he only wrote down our assignment for the day on the board and assigned us to work in pairs. He probably thought the arrangement worked perfectly since we were all sitting in pairs.

  The sound of pencil on paper filled the classroom. The quiet whispers of the students were hardly noticeable. “So, what made you change your mind?” Daston asked, ten minutes into our work.

  I wasn’t sure if I should unleash the Michelle dream on him. I did not know him that well, and the dream was personal. I wanted to keep it to myself until I was sure I could trust him. Instead, I gave him the gist of what caused it. “I saw something.” I could tell he got what I was meaning.