The Haunting Lessons: 1, 2, 3, 4, I Declare a Demon War (The Ghosts & Demons Series)

by Robert Chazz Chute

  “Do you think Victor knows what he’s talking about?”

  “I think sometimes Victor tells people what they want to hear. That’s not as bad as it sounds. I think he believes what he says, too. But he also doesn’t talk much about what’s next when Vlad is around. The big man can’t help himself, poking holes.”

  “Does that mean Vlad knows?”

  “No. Vlad is better at seeing what’s false. That doesn’t mean he knows what’s true.”

  “Have you asked Vlad what he thinks?”

  “I don’t like talking about next,” Manhattan said. “We’ll all find out soon enough. Got another question? A better one?”

  “Okay. The demons really want to eat us?”

  “They aren’t lacto-ovo vegetarian.”

  “Go on.”

  Manhattan gazed at me steadily. “They like chocolate, pizza and human entrails. I don’t know if they are invading our dimension just for our guts or the promise of pizza delivered to your door in less than thirty minutes.”

  I giggled.

  Manny did not. I really didn’t know if she was messing with me about the chocolate and pizza. I still wasn’t sure when she promised she wasn’t lying.

  “Okay,” I said. “On a related note, let’s see if Victor sent us a ton of weapons.”

  The second trunk did indeed hold guns. There were a couple of assault rifles and several smaller weapons that could be concealed.

  “You know your way around a pistol?” Manny asked.

  “I’m from Iowa.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It is.” Mama owned a shotgun, a deer rifle and she had three pistols. She practiced with them once a month at the range. “In case that man ever thinks about coming back,” Mama said.

  I suspected now that Mama was target shooting in preparation for an invasion of a demon horde. I hadn’t called Mama and I hadn’t answered her texts. I wasn’t ready to confront her with what I knew yet.

  “The important thing isn’t so much the weapons,” Manhattan said. “It’s the ammo. Every bullet and cartridge has been blessed three times by three senior priests from three different religions. Three is a power number. I prefer when celibate monks bless my ammo. Makes me feel like I’ve given them one thing to do that’s worthwhile.”

  “Victor said bullets don’t work as well as blades.”

  “Not the bullets you buy from Walmart. Swords are much better. Blessed blades are like getting cut with a sword, plus an acid bath for the enemy. Still, use enough of the right kind of bullets and you can bring anything down. It still usually takes a lot of holy rounds with the big demons.”

  “Your bullets worked on Brooks fine.”

  “Yep. Blessed by celibate priests or not, humans are more vulnerable to high speed iron supplements.”

  “You okay with that?” I asked. She’d only helped kill a man and a demon that morning, but Manhattan looked plenty steady to me. When I thought about it, my hands still shook and butterflies with iron wings tried to escape my stomach.

  “Brooks wasn’t the first human I’ve shot, Iowa. He won’t be the last. Victor talks a good game to the troops about holding back Armageddon, but the invasion is inevitable. Then the world will see what’s real. When the shit hits the ceiling fan, you find out who your real friends are. Plenty of humans will collaborate with the enemy. At first they’ll do it out of fear or because they think they’ll be spared. In the end, though, we’re all bowel and pancreas pizza unless we kill Ra’s forces first.”

  I watched her for a moment. I didn’t doubt her conviction, but what was missing was any mention of Bronx. Like Victor said, people often fail to notice what isn’t there. “Was Bronx your boyfriend?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I prefer girls, but Bronx was a friend. Victor says, ‘Quem Di diligent, adolescens moritur.’”

  “What?”

  “It’s Latin, from a Billy Joel song or something, I think. Only the good die young.”

  She moved to the window to watch Church Avenue. “Bronx’s real name was Josh. He saved my life twice. The first time was when he found me, suicidal in a cemetery next to my mother’s grave. I was staring at all the damned outside the fence, waiting to be let in so they could lie down. They were looking for peace and salvation and so was I. When Josh found me…I had a knife at my wrist.

  “I told him to go away, but he just stood there, watching and waiting. He told me how to do it right. For the most blood, he told me not to cut across the wrists. ‘Cut down the arm if you’re serious,’ he said. Then he said if I did it, I might have to join the ghost parade outside the fence and wait a long time to really die.

  “I asked him why,” Manhattan said, “and he said he didn’t think we get to go to bed and pull the covers over our heads. We don’t get to retreat from life. We have to go get it. I looked at all the dead along the fence who used to be people. Then I buried the knife in the dirt at my mother’s grave. I started bawling my eyes out again and I asked him what I should do. He told me he sang and I should, too. Then he brought me to Victor Fuentes. That’s how I joined the Choir Invisible.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. That’s one of my talents.

  After a while, Manhattan continued. “Josh said to call him Bronx. He was one of my first trainers,” — she hefted her sword parasol — “so I could be a singer, too.”

  “What was the second time he saved your life?”

  “Last night,” she said, “when I said I’d take point and he said no.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you want to talk about it, Manny?”

  “No.”

  The next trunk held two katanas and two short swords. “We’ve already got swords,” I said.

  “These aren’t for concealment. These are for when the big battle comes to town.” Manhattan smiled so wide, I wondered if she was looking forward to the bloodbath to come. It took me a moment to figure out that’s exactly what she wanted. Manny wanted vengeance.

  The swords were beautiful works of art. I had seen replicas, but the authentic swords shone with lethality. I ached to hold one. “Ever since I saw Uma Thurman kick ass in Kill Bill, I wanted swords and a yellow and black track suit. Mr. Chang trained me in kendo.”

  “Kevin Chang?” she said.

  “What?”

  “Kevin Chang,” she repeated. “He’s also my master in bujutsu. He hates Iowa, but your Mama and Victor and Peter all knew, the children of the Armageddon Savants must be trained.” When she caught the look on my face, she laughed.

  “Mr. Chang told me he was an accountant,” I said.

  “He is,” she said. “People can be more than one thing.”

  I sat on the floor by the lamp of Tighloon and thought how strange it was that I was sitting by a magical lamp. But that didn’t feel all that strange, anymore. The lamp was just a small miracle now.

  Lesson 62: You can get used to a lot of things pretty fast, but never betrayal. You never get over feeling like a fool. You never bounce back from discovering your whole life is a lie and the people you trust most are liars.

  Manhattan didn’t open the last trunk and when I moved to do so, she shook her head. “That one is full of explosives,” she said. “Gimme your phone. I’ll put the detonator code on speed dial for you. Don’t press the contact for Heaven unless you need to. You’ll know when you need to.”

  “How will I know, Manny?” I asked.

  “Oh, Iowa,” she said. “A demon will be chewing through your sweetbreads.”

  I was a long time falling asleep that night. I was almost dreaming when I remembered the beautiful girl with the mocha skin in the next bed had said she preferred girls.

  Demons, predators, espresso-loving lesbians! Oh, my! When you look at the big picture, minus all the magic drama, New York was shaping up to be pretty much how I expected.

  32

  The next day it rained and I stayed inside with Manny. In the morning I tri
ed to impress her with the number of pushups I could do without stopping. That urge faded fast when she pointedly ignored me so she could set up a modem for wifi. Although I’d been hiking all over New York City, my upper body strength had waned over the summer.

  I ended up sweating through planks and crunches and was tapped out faster than I expected. Mr. Chang was always challenging me to go “just one more minute.” At the end of sixty seconds, he would say again, “just one more minute. You can do anything for a minute!”

  The “one more minute” didn’t stop coming, of course. Not until I collapsed.

  The grueling workouts made more sense now. He’d told each of his students that what we learned from him might one day save our lives. Though he was talking to everyone, his comments were aimed at me. And all along, Mama and Mr. Chang had made me think studying Hapkido and Kendo so diligently was my idea.

  By ten o’clock I was tired and showered and in need of a distraction, anything to stop thinking about demons. The quintessential thing to do in New York on a rainy day when you’re shut in and waiting to be attacked by otherworldly monsters with long fangs? Read a book. Reading any book in my apartment in New York (complete with a fresh cappuccino) seemed more weighty and pretentious than reading on my bed in Medicament, Iowa. I downloaded The Fault in Our Stars by John Green to my phone. I liked the funny observations and witty dialogue very much, but I couldn’t face teenagers dealing with cancer that day.

  By noon, I was hungry and suffering a terrible case of cabin fever. Manny sat on the floor in full lotus position and didn’t look up from tapping on her laptop. Her big glasses had slid to the end of her nose.

  I finally asked her what she was doing. “Mm. I was looking at the inventory at the Keep and e-mailing St. Charles that we should stock up on baby formula and diapers. When Armageddon hits, we could loot that stuff later, but I think we should pay for it now. We don’t want to have to go out on runs for Baby Mum Mums crackers at the last minute. Not with babies screaming in our ears. Baby cries are the worst.”

  “What else?”

  “I was plotting fallback positions. If the Keep is breached and there are survivors, I was thinking we should go to a Costco. Victor suggested a well-known place for a rendezvous point, like the Guggenheim or the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. The Cathedral isn’t bad. It’s the largest church in the city, over on Amsterdam. Demons do not like churches and might be put off searching and destroying us there. For a while.”

  “Victor told me. Something about vibes in the bricks.”

  “Good and Evil,” she said. “One of the few constants across the realms. But it’s not like demons are vampires. They don’t like churches, but they will go in if they have to. Makes them irritable. Maybe gives them a rash, I don’t know. We don’t know enough about the enemy. That’s one of the reasons we’re so screwed.”

  She looked up a moment and must have read the horrified expression on my face. “Art of War: know your enemy or he will mess you up until you are peeing out your ears and begging for death.”

  I suspect Manny was paraphrasing The Art of War somewhat, but that’s Lesson 63.

  Then I remembered something. “Victor told me, ‘Death must be met,’ is one of the few constants across dimensions.”

  “Victor has a bunch of canned speeches.” Manhattan pushed her glasses up and went back to her screen. “He’s been at this war a long time. Anyway, I’m recommending we switch the retreat position to the nearest Costco. In fact, we should have a plan for multiple Costcos for survivors to retreat to. Always plan the exit strategy first.” (And that, you guessed it, is Lesson 64.)

  “What about the demons?” I asked. “Won’t they like Costco? They can probably get pizza dough in bulk there.”

  Manny shook her head and smiled. “They’ll like them less if we send out teams of monks, priests and ministers to go stand at the four walls of each Costco to bless the buildings. Any place can be a sacred space, as long as the faith is strong enough.”

  “Then why not bless all of New York City, or the planet?”

  “We can try, but that’s a lot of buildings and it’s just a minor deterrent. It slows down the Darkness Visible. I told you. They aren’t vampires.”

  “Are there such things as vampires?”

  “Yup. Energy vampires.” She looked at me pointedly. “They distract people from their work.”

  I was about to apologize for bothering her, but as I walked behind her, I caught a glimpse of what was on her screen. Manhattan was looking at pictures of cute little baby pigs on Pinterest. “Really?” I said.

  She frowned. “I’m taking a break!”

  “Really?”

  Then she gave me a wide smile, showing off her perfect, even teeth. “I’m taking a break from Facebook, Twitter and porn.”

  “Oh…” — deep breath — “my WIC!” I said. “And I’ve just been sitting here contemplating what it will feel like to die screaming as a demon makes a happy meal out of me.”

  “Work on your abs,” she suggested.

  “Abs of steel won’t stop fangs.”

  Manny put the laptop down and rose from the floor without using her hands. (Try it from full lotus. It’s not easy.) “Okay,” she said. “It’s past time we really got you up to speed. Let’s go. Everybody needs initiation. It’s your day. Time to strut your stuff, Iowa.”

  I looked outside. A cold downpour soaked the streets. “It’s raining really hard.”

  “Do you think the Marines stop training outside whenever it sprinkles?”

  “No, but — ”

  “Look in the third trunk,” she said. “There are a couple of big umbrellas in there.”

  “What does my initiation consist of? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “It’s fun,” Manhattan said.

  “Really?”

  “Well, not for you, but the rest of us will have a great time.”

  “I haven’t decided yet whether I like you,” I said.

  Manhattan smirked. “Put that off until after the initiation ceremony. If you judge me by what happens today, we’ll never be friends.”

  “I think I might hate you now,” I said.

  Manny smiled wider.

  33

  A cab returned us to the Keep and Manny took me to her room to change. “You’ll need some armor. You’re about my size, a little shorter,” she said. “Try this.”

  She held out a tunic.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s old,” she said. “It’s called scale armor. See? The scales overlap and it’s hard leather underneath.”

  I slipped the tunic over my head. It was lighter than I expected. “What is this made of?”

  “Pangolin.”

  “That sounds pretty. What’s that?”

  “It’s a kind of anteater.”

  “What?”

  Manny pulled me by the tunic and shoved a football helmet into my hands. “Stop being a baby.”

  “I’m wearing an anteater!”

  “C’mon. It’s from long before pangolins were endangered…I think.”

  A few minutes later, we stood in the central courtyard. Despite the rain, sword practice continued. When I’d looked at the courtyard with Victor, we were far up. I hadn’t noticed from on high, but many of the pads that served as the training ground for the Choir Invisible were not merely flat concrete. Some pads were elevated at one end. Some were constructed of soft padding. Others were made of sand or cobblestone.

  As Manny strode to the edge of the concentric circles of pads, Rory appeared beside me. “Hello, m’lady.”

  “Hi, Rory.” When I glanced sideways, the dead man’s eyes had gone dark instead of their blazing orange. Black pits where eyes should be are disconcerting, but I tried to show no sign I was freaking out. I didn’t want to accidentally channel anyone again. The visions weren’t worth the nausea. I was fidgety, so I asked Rory a question, just to make small talk. “Do ghosts watch TV?”

  “For many of us,
that’s all we do. Eternity can be so incredibly boring. You have to be careful to keep yourself occupied and productive. That’s why I’m here. At least, that’s why I’m partially here.”

  “Where else are you?”

  “I’m monitoring a pedophile’s whereabouts in the Village. I’m also in Scotland at the moment.”

  “What awful thing draws you to Scotland?”

  “Nothing awful at the moment. I just love Edinburgh. It’s lovely. I love the architecture.”

  “Oh.”

  “Even the dead must have a life,” Rory said.

  Manny startled me by singing. It was one high note, but it was clear and beautiful. Every member of the Choir Invisible stopped in the midst of training to look. Then they all answered with a note of their own. I can’t say it was beautiful exactly. It was more startling than beautiful. Then the voices rose and rose and harmonized. Their peculiar music became kind of lovely and fierce at the same time. I’d have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t about to…well, I didn’t know what I was about to do.

  Mr. Chang’s ritual at the beginning of each of his classes was to say that, one day, each of us would be tested. I thought he was just speaking of grading for belts. I knew better now.

  “They won’t expect anything much from you, child,” Rory said. “Give ’em a surprise or two, eh? That wouldn’t be boring.”

  Once Manhattan saw that every eye was on her, she raised a hand and closed her fist. The Choir stopped. She announced, “By now, you all know we have lost Bronx!”

  Everyone bowed their head and, as one, chanted, “Bronx has fallen. Bronx is lost. As we go, so goes the world. We are the Choir. That is the cost.”

  “We have a new member of the Choir Invisible! She helped avenge the demon that took Bronx from us.”

  “That wasn’t vengeance,” I whispered to Rory. “That was desperation and self-defense.”

  “Sh. Keep your end up, girl,” Rory replied. “Do try to look dangerous and capable so they’ll value you.”

  “Today,” Manny continued, “she joins us in struggle and service.” The sky was black and the rain came harder as Manny turned and called to me so everyone could hear. “Candidate! Name your cause so we will know your effect!”