The First Sacrament (The Demons of Stone Chapel Book 1)

by Duncan, Lex

  “That said,” he continued, covering his previous fear with a brisk, business-like tone. “He’s obsessed with getting me back to, as he puts it, where I belong.”

  “Why?” I asked. Suddenly, Mr. Zarcotti’s warning made a lot more sense. “Does being a cambion give you special powers? I mean, if your dad’s as powerful as you say he is, why would he need you?”

  Vaena moved on from cereal. She dug the last of the Pop-Tarts out from the pantry and settled back down on the floor. “Malnoch can change things. But he won’t.”

  I bumped my knee against his. Intentionally this time. “What does she mean by that?”

  Dante rubbed his eyes, shoulders slumping as they often did when he was stressed. “I can move between Dis and Earth without losing my body. I can touch iron, use it in very small doses. I can’t ingest it, as you saw last night, but I can come in contact with it without immediately dying, which is more than what full demons can say.”

  “You can do more,” Vaena grumbled through a mouthful of food, “but you don’t. You hate us.”

  “Vaena,” Dante exhaled. “I’ve told you before, I don’t hate you.”

  Vaena grunted. I guess that was a familial trait.

  “As I was going to say, my father has six children.” Dante drew two lines from Amarax's name. “Baezal and Iarok are the oldest. Then Taroth and Zenaran.”

  “Then you and Vaena,” I traced the lines with my finger, trying to memorize each name. “Are you a prince or something?”

  Vaena cackled, having gotten over whatever her spat with Dante was about. “The Whore Prince of Dis. That's what Malnoch is. Papa wants him to inherit the throne instead of Baezal.”

  “What?” I asked. King Dante, lord of the demon realm. “Really?”

  “No,” he said harshly. “I don’t want any part of it. Of anything.”

  “Your dad can't be too happy about that.”

  Vaena cackled again.

  “He's been pursuing me for a very long time now,” Dante said. Bitterness edged his voice. “Dragging me back to Dis. I only just got back a year ago. Then I moved here.”

  “Out of all the places to move to when you escaped, why did you pick Stone Chapel?”

  “The Veil is extremely thin here. On par with major war zones, large cemeteries, what have you. I figured it would be the best place to do my work.” He looked down at the napkin he was writing on. “I can't go back there again. It's a toxic place for someone like me. Someone so...human.”

  Human. In all the time I’d known him, I always thought of Dante as something more than human. Something indomitable, something invincible. Even when his life was on the line, I managed to convince myself that he’d be fine, that he was capable of withstanding anything just because his name was Dante Arturo. But as I looked at him now, I finally saw the man behind the mask I created for him. Too young to be so burdened, too old to believe the lie that everything would be fine. Too tired to hold his head up, too selfless to admit that he needed a break. He wasn’t invincible. I knew that now. He was a person. And he suffered just like the rest of us. “Earth kills you too, doesn't it?”

  “Not quite as efficiently as Dis does.” He smiled a sad sort of smile, an ironic twist of his mouth. “But in a way, yes. It exhausts me more than anything.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said, because that's what I assumed you did in this sort of situation. He wasn't dying, but he wasn't living, either. He was existing in a limbo between two places he didn't belong.

  Demon prince or not, that had to suck.

  “Don't be,” he replied, remembering our exchange from long ago, when we talked about Fabius and Rosie, when we fell asleep together. Incidentally, that was the only time I'd known him to rest for more than a few hours.

  I cracked a smile. A sad sort of smile, mirroring his. I was angry that he lied to me. Grieving over Rosie. Hungry for something other than coffee. But I had something now that I didn't have before.

  I had the truth. I had his trust. And with it, we could finally move forward.

  ***

  “You don't like me,” Vaena pouted on the ground as I reloaded my pistol. Days of storms had at last given weigh to chilly November sunshine, the warmth of the light almost canceling out the cold of the wind. My hair hadn't completely dried from my bath, so I pulled the hood of my coat up and got to work. Target practice.

  Vaena wasn't making it easy. Since Dante left to go speak with Chief Morales about last night, she decided to cling to me like a kid whose dad left on a business trip. It felt too much like babysitting.

  I didn't have the patience for babysitting.

  “You stole my best friend's body.” I took aim and fired at the target twenty feet away. I hit it a couple of inches above the bullseye. Considerable progress from the first time Dante had me out here. “So, no, I don't really like you that much. Sorry.”

  “I didn't steal it,” Vaena said. “She gave it to me. Big difference.”

  I fired again. Three inches to the left of the bullseye. Damn.

  Vaena picked up a dead leaf, crushing it between her fingers. “You should not hate me. I am keeping your friend's body alive by being in it. Her soul is the only thing that is dead.”

  Fighting my natural instinct to start yelling, I took aim yet again, rested my finger on the trigger.

  “Besides, she was in pain, it would have been cruel to keep her here any longer―”

  Okay, that was it. I slapped my gun down on the rotten hay bale we used as a table and rounded on her, pointing my finger like Mother Arden did when I was little. “Don't you dare talk about Rosie like you knew her! What you're doing to her right now is disgusting! You disgust me!”

  Vaena blinked. Picked her teeth with dirty fingernails. “You don't understand.”

  “No, you don't understand!” I began to stomp away but she latched onto my leg like a leech and refused to let go.

  “Don't leave!” She whined.

  “Get off me!”

  “No, no,” she hugged me to her bony chest and pushed my hood down, fingers raking through my hair. “Can't leave, versmaash. Let me explain. Please, please. You must understand.”

  I squirmed in her vise-grip, gagging at the rank smell that clung to her skin. “Yeah, I understand that you need a shower!”

  “I saved you, versmaash!” She wailed, hugging me even tighter. “The book, the book, I showed you where the book was! And that man in the woods, he was going to kill you, but I killed him first. Didn’t you see?”

  Didn't I see her impaling him with a branch? Yeah, I saw. “Let go of me for two seconds and maybe I’ll think about talking to you.”

  She leaned back, squinting at up at me. “Are you going to run away?”

  “No,” I said, and it was the truth. I wanted answers and she seemed prepared to give them to me.

  “Do you promise?”

  “Seriously?”

  “You have to promise, versmaash.”

  “Fine, I promise.”

  Finger by finger, muscle by muscle, she let me go.

  To prevent her from grabbing me again, I scooted over a few feet and drew a line in the mud with a twig. “This is my side. That’s your side. Neither of us can cross this line. You cross it and I'm probably going to punch you again, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” I sighed. This conversation was exhausting. “Now, can you answer something for me?”

  She nodded.

  “Why Rosie? Why not someone else?”

  She scratched one of her bald spots. Sniffed her fingers. Wiped them on Dante's shirt. At least she didn't lick them this time. “I liked her.”

  “Why?” I asked. A lot of people liked Rosie, but that was the thing. They were people. Not demons looking for a new body to fill.

  Vaena shrugged.

  “If you want me to like you, you have to tell me.”

  Her disaffection faded and a glimmer of hope lit her black eyes. “Do you promise?”

  “I promise.”
>
  She shifted in the mud, picked a blade of dead grass, twirling it between her finger and thumb. “She had you. And that other man.”

  “Brother Luke?” I said.

  “Yes. Him. Friends. I wanted friends. I was in another girl before her. In the sanatorium. And then you came one day. Watched a, ah,” she waved the grass around, “a―”

  “A movie?” Rosie and I watched a lot of them.

  Vaena nodded. “A movie. Yes. I wanted to watch it, too, so I...”

  “You possessed her.”

  “Yes.”

  Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder, here Vaena was telling me she possessed my best friend because she was lonely. I guess that was better than possessing her for some other reason. Some…evil demon reason.

  “Do you hate me still?” Vaena let the grass go and leaned over as far as my line would allow, her eyes wide with childlike anticipation.

  Hate was a strong word. Hate implied that I could never forgive her for what she did. It would be a long time coming, but I knew I'd forgive her. Eventually. Maybe.

  “I don't hate you,” I said, even though I wanted to. Even though I kind of did. “Rosie wouldn't like that. But I don't really trust you right now, either.”

  “But I―”

  “I know, you helped me find the book and you sent Dante that letter, but you have to understand that I've lost someone really important to me. You may be in her body and you may be keeping it alive, but you aren't her. You get that? You are not Rosie.”

  Vaena slumped. “So you hate me.”

  “No,” I corrected firmly, “I don't. Just give me some time to get to know you, okay? And maybe we can, y'know…” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “Be friends one day.”

  “Friends?” She echoed, drawing out the word like she wanted to savor it.

  The old Beatrice would have killed her by now. The new one, even though she was prone to fits of rage, learned to forgive. Not forget, I'd never forget what Vaena did, but forgive. Someday. Eventually. Maybe. That had to earn me a ton of maturity points. “Yeah. Friends.”

  Squealing, Vaena broke my line rule and launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my shoulders in a bone crushing hug. “Thank you, versmaash, I knew you'd understand!”

  “Okay, okay!” I tried to shove her off but she was stuck good and tight. She wouldn't be letting go of me unless she decided to. Resigned, I let her do her thing. Breathed through my mouth to spare myself the smell. “Hey, Vaena?”

  She nestled her head on my shoulder. “Yes?”

  “What does versmaash mean?”

  “Stranger.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with squash?”

  “What is a squash?”

  “Never mind.”

  I’d explain later.

  ***

  Dante returned in the evening, looking more exhausted than ever. In light of his recent confessions, I decided I'd do something about it. As soon as he walked in the door, I took him by the hand and led him upstairs to the TV room.

  “What are we doing?” He asked.

  I pushed him onto the couch. “We're taking a nap.”

  His brow furrowed. “We're what?”

  “Taking a nap,” I steeled myself against a wave of oncoming nervousness and sat down next to him. “Go on, lie down.”

  “Beatrice, I can't―”

  “You owe me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You owe me, Arturo. And I owe you for getting you shot. This is my way of paying you back.”

  “You're paying me back by making me take a nap?”

  “I don't know if you've looked in a mirror lately, but you kind of look like crap.” Hot crap. There’s a nice mental image. “You need to rest. And the only time I've seen you actually do it is when I was with you that one time. So we're going to take a nap.”

  He narrowed his eyes, reminding me so much of when we first met. He'd squint at me, I'd squint back, we'd argue. Good times. That he didn't argue now was a sign our relationship had grown. Into what, I wasn't sure yet.

  But I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  Clearing his throat a little, Dante laid back against the pillows, his arms resting stiffly at his sides. I allowed myself to relax atop the hard column of his body, the nervousness slipping away into something more comfortable. Being alone with Dante was a lot like wearing a favorite sweater. Warm and easy and safe.

  “What did Chief Morales say?” I asked, careful not to move too much. I didn’t want to make him feel weird.

  “I had to lie to her,” his chest lifted in a sigh. “I told her Rosemary was gone before we could find her. That we found those officers dead.”

  “Do they…” I really hated that I had to say this now. “Do they think she’s still alive?”

  “Yes, unfortunately.” He paused. The sharp edges of his face smoothed with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. I…I didn’t know Vaena…”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I couldn’t talk about Rosie right now. It hurt. “You had no idea. And Vaena, she’s just…”

  I told him what happened while he was gone. What Vaena said about Rosie, about how she just wanted friends. “Crazy, right? She possesses Rosie because she’s lonely? I mean, I guess that’s better than wanting to kill her, but come on.”

  Dante’s hands folded on the small of my back. My breath caught, but I didn’t dare call him out on it. This was too nice to wreck. “Vaena is one of only two girls in my family, and the youngest. My father never…He never much liked her. I think perhaps he sees her as a mistake. If I had to guess, she followed him here because she wants to prove something to him. Her worth. I don’t know.”

  That explained her clingy personality. “She really seems to love you, though. In her own creepy way.”

  His gaze flickered to the fireplace before returning to my face. “She's still a child, Beatrice. She needs someone to love her. And I do, I love her dearly, but...”

  I sat up, noticing the ragged edge in his voice. “But what?”

  “I worry,” he said. “About her. About you. About everyone, this whole city.”

  I wondered what that was like, to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Two worlds, even. I whined endlessly to him about my responsibilities and yet he dealt with more than I could imagine on a daily basis. What's worse is that he never complained.

  “You're going to tell me I worry too much,” he guessed.

  I felt myself blushing as I shook my head. “No, I'm going to apologize for being such a brat eighty percent of the time. I never knew what you were going through. I never asked―well, I did ask. I just didn't do it very nicely.”

  He pressed his lips together to make it seem like he wasn't smiling. “I should have told you from the beginning. For that, I apologize.”

  “You're forgiven.” I jabbed at his chest with my finger. “Just don't lie again. Ever. About anything. I mean it, like―Okay, what color's your underwear?”

  “Really, Beatrice?”

  “This is a test and you're failing.”

  “But―”

  “Don't make me look.”

  “Blue,” he said slowly, “they're blue.”

  I smiled a little wider. “Thank you.”

  Here came the awkward lull. The part where we stared at each other until something distracted us. Only I couldn't find a decent distraction. I kept returning to his mouth. His rare, almost-smiling mouth. How many people had fantasized about kissing it? How many times had I fantasized about kissing it? How many dreams had I wasted on him? How many awkward lulls would it take for us to realize that maybe, just maybe, we were more than friends?

  I'd never know if I didn't try.

  “Hey,” I said, leaning down, “Can I, um―”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  A cold shot of terror rippled through my body and in my haste to separate myself from Dante, I rolled over and fell off the couch. Dante sat up.

  “Beatrice?” He b
reathed.

  “I'm fine,” I replied, remaining on the floor, thinking of how great it would be if I could just melt through it right about now.

  I heard the doors open. “Uh, Dante?”

  My embarrassment thickened to a sludge in my stomach. Max. It had to be Max.

  “Yes?” Dante said.

  “Am I―Am I interrupting something?” Max asked.

  Yes, Max, you were.

  “No, Max, of course not.”

  I groaned, burying my head in the crook of my arm.

  “Beatrice?” Max said.

  Keeping my face covered, I flapped my free hand at him. “Ignore me.”

  “What are you doing―”

  “Max, do me a favor and pretend I'm not face down on the floor, okay?”

  “Uh―”

  “Ignore her,” Dante said shortly. “What do you need, Max?”

  To get out of here, maybe? Didn't he have a message board to run? A cartoon to watch? A girlfriend to text? No? Okay.

  “I, uh―Actually, I can't remember what it was now.”

  Seriously? Seriously?

  “Right, well, let me know when you remember.”

  “I will,” Max said. The doors creaked like they were about to close. “I'll see you guys later. Hope you're okay, Beatrice.

  “I'm just great, Max.” I lifted my hand in a thumbs-up. “Thanks so much for asking.”

  The doors closed. I pushed past the crushing embarrassment to force myself to my feet. Dante stood behind the couch, frowning at me like always.

  Redness burned in my cheeks. “Yeah, can we just forget this ever happened? Please? We can both agree to never ever mention it ever again. Ever.”

  “Agreed,” he opened one of the doors to show me out. “Goodnight, Beatrice.”

  “Yeah,” I kept my head down as I passed him. “Bye.”

  Thirty

  As we agreed, neither Dante nor I spoke about the not-kissing incident. We focused on the impending Maybe Apocalypse instead.