Demons

by Heather Frost

  Morning came quickly. By the time we'd gotten back to the warehouse and helped Patrick inside, and I assured myself that everything was all right, it was well past midnight. Toni told me I could sleep on their couch if I didn't feel like driving home, but one look at that rickety thing reminded me why I wanted to say no to that offer. So I left Toni yawning in their living room and drove to my house.

  Everything was quiet, and I was able to sneak inside with no one the wiser. Despite all the crazy, adrenaline-pumping things I'd gone through that night, sleep came instantly. Unfortunately, morning seemed to come just as quickly.

  Grandma had made waffles, which the twins were making quick work of. Grandpa was reading his paper, and when he glanced up and saw me, I could tell from his aura and his gaze that he wasn't very happy.

  Grandma turned around and gave me a smile. “Kate—I didn't know you were here. When did you get in?”

  “After midnight,” I said, moving for my seat at the table. “Lee was pretty bad, but she didn't need me to stay all night.”

  “The poor girl.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed distractedly. “It's really bothering her this time.”

  Grandpa lifted his paper higher as if wanting to block out my lies. I grabbed a waffle, hoping my hurt wouldn't show on my face. I didn't realize my leaving would have offended him so—I would have told him if I'd known. So now I had to endure a torturous breakfast, knowing that behind his paper, he was almost seething.

  Luckily, Grandpa couldn't confront me. Not with Grandma and the twins around. Hopefully having the day to cool off would do him good—calm him down. If not, I was in trouble.

  We stopped to pick up Lee, as usual. She came out almost instantly, as usual. And she was wearing complete orange, her usual for now. Her aura, though, was decidedly different. I'd never seen such streaks of red anger and brown pain.

  Her smile was fake, but the twins didn't notice. “Howdy, guys,” she addressed them. “What's up?”

  Josie gave her a weird look. “You never say hi to us.”

  “Not directly,” Jenna corrected fairly.

  Lee squinted at them. “What? You're like adopted sisters. Why wouldn't I say hi to you?”

  “I don't have any money,” Josie warned.

  “I'm out of it too—so don't bother asking.”

  Lee frowned at me. “Can't a person be friendly anymore?”

  I shrugged, and we were off.

  Once the twins were out of the car, I cautiously broached the subject. “So… did you talk with your mom?”

  She snorted. “Something like that. I was ruder than I should have been. But she wasn't exactly innocent either.”

  “And?”

  “Yeah, they've been dating secretly for just about eight months now. How am I supposed to take that?”

  “I'm sorry, Lee.”

  “I just wish she would have told me, you know? I mean seriously—would it have been that hard? ‘Gee, Lee, by the way, I'm dating this guy in California.’ “

  “Am I still on to meet him?”

  “Yep. Friday if you can make it. I'm supposed to spend some quality time with him first. Tomorrow night. Gag.”

  “Maybe he's not so bad.”

  “Why did they have to lie about it? Why do people always think lies are necessary?”

  I didn't really want to answer that, so I was glad it was a general sort of question.

  We drove to the high school, and soon we were going our separate ways. I let Lee pretend she wasn't quite as angry over this whole thing as her aura told me she was, and I think she was grateful for that.

  In American Lit, it didn't surprise me to find Aaron already in his seat across the circle from my usual desk.

  “Hey,” he said, forcing a brightness his aura didn't quite support. “How're you?”

  “Good,” I lied. “A little tired, but…”

  He nodded. “You look tired.”

  I sat in my seat and started pulling out my notes, hoping someone else would join us.

  His voice broke through the stiff silence. “Kate, I miss you.”

  I looked up, and he started shaking his head. “Not like that. I'm fine about the breakup.” His aura told a different story. “I just miss you. Talking to you. Seeing you. We were best friends once. It's hard to lose that so quickly.”

  “Aaron…” I decided I'd lied enough for the day, and I was abruptly truthful. “I miss you too. But I don't think we can just dive back into a friendship. Our relationship complicated all that.”

  “I know. I realize that. But don't you think a friendship is worth saving? We could try. That's all I'm asking for. Jaxon is having a party Saturday night, at his house. I just wanted to invite you. I already invited Lee. You can both bring whoever you want.” That was his way of avoiding Patrick's name.

  I fought back a sigh and instead forced a smile. “Sure. That sounds fun. What time is it?”

  “Eight.”

  “I'll talk to Patrick.”

  Aaron nodded once, and the motion was a little stiff. Still, I had to hand it to him. He was a great guy. A wonderful friend. It would be nice if we could find some balance. Unfortunately, I didn't see that happening anytime soon. Maybe after he got a girlfriend. I prayed for the day.

  School passed slowly without Patrick. It was hard to concentrate on things, and the special needs kids really missed him. I told everyone he was sick, and no one pressed for more details—except for Trent, who just kept repeating Patrick's name over and over, an endless question.

  Lee mentioned Jaxon's party and asked if Aaron had invited me too. When I'd given her a yes, she begged me to come. “I think I'm going to invite Toni, if he's not doing anything,” she said. She suddenly blew out her breath. “I know the only reason I was invited to the party is because of you. It would be awkward without you. I'm sure Patrick will understand.”

  I gave her the same answer I'd given Aaron—I'd ask Patrick. Then she looked at me with those wide eyes, surrounded by orange, and I had to give in.

  “It will be a way to unwind after Friday night, when you meet my future stepfather,” she added sourly.

  “They're that serious?”

  “He moved here. That bespeaks some dedication.”

  I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. When school ended I picked up the twins, drove Lee to her house, and then the twins and I proceeded home. It wasn't until we pulled in and I saw Grandpa sitting on the porch steps that I remembered he was upset with me. I didn't want this. I wanted to go inside and call Patrick and make sure he was fully recovered.

  I sighed and shut off the car. The twins darted out, and I had to call them back so they'd remember to lock their doors. I locked my own door and slammed it closed. I trailed after the twins, walking much slower than their eager steps.

  I paused on the sidewalk in front of my grandfather, and the twins closed the front door without realizing I'd stopped. I gripped the straps on my backpack and forced a thin smile. “Hi.”

  I could tell from his aura that he'd calmed down moderately since this morning. Still, his frown was deep, and the disapproval on his face was hurtful. “Kate, I know I'm retired. I realize that you don't have to report to me about Guardian business. But I just figured you'd tell me when you left on dangerous missions.”

  “I'm sorry. I didn't think you wanted to know.”

  “You're my granddaughter. Of course I want to know what you're doing.” He sighed and ran a thumb under one of his overall straps. “You seem to forget that I know exactly what you're going through. Yes, there's excitement. But the danger is real too, Kate.”

  “Patrick and Toni were there—”

  “Were you going after Far Darrig?” he demanded.

  “No.” I tried to turn my surprise into something more hard and defensive. “We were helping Jack.”

  He blew out his breath. “And that's supposed to comfort me? Kate… I just don't feel good about you doing all this when you have no training whatsoever. I realiz
e that you and Patrick are distracted—but he is your Guardian first and your boyfriend second. This is your life we're talking about. I'm too old to train you in defensive fighting, but you need to learn how to defend yourself before you endanger your life some more. Is that understood?”

  My head bowed once, duly reprimanded. I'm sure he could see that in my aura. “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you talk to Patrick about this? Or shall I?”

  “I'll talk to him.”

  Grandpa nodded firmly, his aura still sporting some tense uneasiness despite the sudden subject change. “I was planning to visit an old friend today. I wondered if you'd like to tag along. It would be to your benefit to know him, I think.”

  I waited for more information, but he didn't say anything else. I nodded. “Sure. Just let me take my bag upstairs.”

  “I'll be waiting in the truck,” he said.

  Fifteen minutes later we were parking in front of a weathered building, a large and faded sign declaring the establishment as Clyde's Pawnshop. A little unimaginative, but the place didn't look to be all that amazing from the outside either. But that was usual for this side of town.

  I got out of my dad's old truck, a white Chevy, and followed Grandpa to the front door. A little bell clanged as he pushed it open, and we went into the dingy room.

  Stuff was everywhere. There didn't seem to be a lot of organization to the chaos—just the basic divisions. Some shelves were piled high with dusty VCRs, DVD players, and stereos. Televisions sat along the right side wall, all of them playing the same movie in sync—just the menu now, over and over. Books were stacked on the left side, along with a glass case holding DVDs, video games, and CDs. Scattered in different corners were some guitars, a slightly bent flute, and a stained weed-cutter. The place smelled old and of tobacco smoke. The carpet was dull orange and threadbare. While I hesitated to take in the sights, Grandpa continued walking to the counter, as if he'd been here a hundred times and knew exactly where to go.

  I followed slowly, my eyes drawn to the locked cases behind the long counter, which were full of guns. I think they'd continue to give me the creeps for a while yet, but I suppose that was understandable. The counter itself was made of glass, containing more junk. One side held digital cameras, the other a wide assortment of jewelry.

  We stepped up to the counter, and I cast a wondering look to my grandfather. He gave me a quick, reassuring smile, then looked through a beaded curtain that hung in a doorway, which presumably led further back into a storage room.

  “Hello?” Grandpa called out, since the bell at the door hadn't seemed to make anyone appear.

  “Just a second!” a gruff voice called out distantly. “Be right with ya!” There was a loud grunt, an unexpected thud, and a curse following rapidly behind. Then hurried footsteps. The beads parted, and a thickly built man of about forty-five lumbered out.

  The first thing I noticed was his lack of aura. The second thing I noticed was the black thread surrounding him. He was a Demon.

  The third thing I noticed was his huge grin as he saw Grandpa. “Henry! You look older every time I see you!”

  I watched in mute fear and confusion as the Demon walked around the counter to shake my grandfather's hand. I quickly stepped back, too shocked to do anything else but stare.

  Grandpa noticed my reaction, and he chuckled, tightly gripping the Demon's hand. “Kate. I'd like you to meet Clyde—a dear friend. Clyde—my granddaughter.”

  The Demon smiled at me and offered a somewhat-dirty hand. “Nice to meet ya, Kate.”

  I didn't offer my hand. “You're a Demon,” I stated, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.

  He lowered his hand and shot my Grandpa a glance. “A Seer? Interesting. Runs in the family genes, then?”

  Grandpa tried to explain things to me, though his words made little sense. “Clyde here has been a friend of mine since… when was it?

  “Summer of ’81, I think,” Clyde the Demon interjected.

  “Something like that,” Grandpa agreed. “Anyway, I was keeping my eye on him. Then I learned he could get me some really good deals. Some easy cash.”

  “So you didn't report him?” I asked, completely astounded. “You broke rules?”

  Clyde sighed. “You're not one of them prim and proper girls, are you? Always following the rules?”

  Grandpa laughed, the sound somehow hard and affectionate at the same time. “She's certainly not.”

  I couldn't believe this was happening. “But he's a Demon!” I protested.

  Grandpa gave me a simple smile. “Clyde here's a special case. He's one of the few that actually reformed—most don't. I've found that he's great for getting information regarding the Demon world, and that help has been invaluable over the years.”

  “Aw, shucks.” Clyde laughed loudly. “Henry, you're too kind. But if you really feel that way, I'm a bit short on cash, so maybe…”

  Grandpa sighed. “You'll never change.”

  “Most likely not. So! What can I do you for?” He moved back around the counter, digging in an apron pocket as he did so.

  “Well, I mostly wanted to introduce you to Kate. I want you to help her as you've helped me.”

  “Right. I won't forget the tight spots you've helped me out of, old chum. I'm completely grateful. I would like to see a little more green next time, but these are hard economic times, after all.” He found what he was looking for in his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. He slid one out and pushed the rest of the pack back into his apron. He lifted the lighter and lit up, his eyes going back to Grandpa. “So, what else did you come for?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you've heard anything else about Far Darrig.”

  The Demon shook his head easily, smoke curling from the end of his cigarette. I cringed at the smell and tried not to breathe too deeply. “Not much, Henry, old boy. He's gone pretty quiet. Philippe says he heard that a strange Demon is still in the area, but that's Philippe for you—always trying to get everybody jumping at shadows.”

  Grandpa nodded thoughtfully as he distractedly reached over the counter and plucked the cigarette out from between Clyde's lips. The Demon frowned as Grandpa ground the end into a nearby ashtray and let it fall lifelessly into the small dish. “Not in front of my granddaughter, Clyde,” he said simply. “Besides, smoking is a nasty habit.”

  The Demon grumbled and leaned against the counter. “It's not going to hurt me none. I'm immortal.”

  “It killed you once.”

  “Can't touch me now.”

  Grandpa shook his head, and I had a feeling they'd done this many times before.

  I spoke at last, drawing them back into the conversation. “You've been keeping tabs on Far Darrig?”

  Clyde laughed once. “Keeping tabs on him? He's not the ruddy circus. Do I hear things? Yeah. Do I have his itinerary? He—” He saw Grandpa's look and amended the curse word in the same breath. “Heavens no.”

  “So he's still in the area?” I shivered despite the heat.

  Grandpa shrugged. “There've been no mysterious deaths reported, but… I think it's safe to assume he's here. Philippe's word doesn't mean much, but if there was anything he wouldn't lie about, it's something like Far Darrig.”

  “Any Demon with an ounce of sense is afraid of him,” Clyde agreed with a grunt. “So mysterious and deadly. The Demon Lord's right hand and personal assassin. Many believe that the king wouldn't be this powerful without Far Darrig standing by him.”

  “How long has the Demon Lord ruled?” I asked, suddenly curious for these details Patrick had yet to tell me.

  Clyde shrugged. “Not long, considering we live forever—Guardian blade willing, of course.” He bit the inside of his cheek, considering briefly. “It's all happened in the last two hundred years or so, I'd say. Before that, there were just groups of Demons that would fight each other for more power and human dominion. I was alive during such times, and trust me—they were dark. The vilest, most evil of Demons divided up the
earth like it was a pan of brownies—everyone vying for the centermost, gooiest piece. And then he came along. All persuasive and charismatic. If a powerful warlord didn't join him, he was killed. It was simple in a sick sort of way. Strange too. Everything seemed to fall into place for him. He knew who to ask first, who to avoid until the end. Some believe he has dark powers and can read minds. As for me, I just think he's ruddy smart. And so he came to command pretty much everything. With Far Darrig at his side.”

  “So the Demon Lord hasn't been a Demon for long?” I guessed.

  Clyde shrugged. “Maybe. Or perhaps he's just been waiting a long time for the perfect opportunity. Personally, I hope I never find out. I stay pretty well under the radar and that's how I like it.”

  My grandfather seemed absorbed in his own thoughts—only distantly aware of our conversation.

  Clyde turned to him, trying to pull him back. “There's something else Philippe mentioned—something a bit odd. Some strange rumor he overheard in his bar.”

  Grandpa glanced up, still looking partially distracted. “Yes?”

  Clyde shifted his weight uneasily. “Well, it seems so fantastical… so impossible in broad daylight. But according to the rumor, there have been some strange deaths along the West Coast.”

  “Far Darrig?” Grandpa asked quickly, the powerful Demon still clearly on his mind.

  Clyde shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe. But they aren't just some random humans dropping like flies. They're Guardians.”

  My heart stopped beating, and the small electric fan in the corner suddenly seemed loud.

  Grandpa's wrinkled face crinkled further in confusion. “What? That's not possible.”

  Clyde raised his hands defensively. “I know, I know. I'm just passing along what Philippe heard. Or what he said he heard.”

  “How did they die?” I asked, thinking of the insane Guardian who'd tried to kill me last night.