Let me explain further:
BSD me and a few other friends would go to Chuckie Horan’s house. His parents were clueless as far as computers and the Internet went, and had no idea how to put up parental controls to limit the sites Chuckie went on, or to figure out after the fact which sites he visited. So being curious twelve-and thirteen-year-olds we’d find free porn sites. It wasn’t hard. We did this maybe a half dozen times before the novelty wore off, and I think also while what we found excited us it also sickened us. I hadn’t hit puberty yet, and that was as far as it went. Before puberty came so did demons. If it wasn’t for the demons, once that event happened I probably would’ve been like a lot of other boys my age finding porn any way I could. But because of the demons, it was like I had become sort of a monk who had taken a vow of celibacy. Or maybe more like I was being given chemicals; at least the effect was similar to chemical castration. All my focus became demons and what I needed to do about them. I had no energy left to think about girls or wanting to masturbate or anything like that. So at fifteen, not only am I a virgin, but I guess I’m pure in the sense that I haven’t even masturbated, and ASD, this was the first erection I experienced. Which is part of why it was so embarrassing.
That’s enough on this topic. If anyone finds this journal it’s because I’m dead, and all I’m trying to do is explain things the way they were so you can decide for yourself what’s true and what isn’t. I’m sure if the demons are responsible for my death they’ve put together a convincing string of stories and lies to cover what happened to me, but that’s all they’ll be. Stories and lies.
Getting back to Wesley and me. After he finished his charbroiled, artery-clogging, and cancer-inducing meal, I noted the time we’d been in Kenmore Square and I texted myself a message with what then was only a very rough guestimate of the number of pedestrians who passed by. No demons. Wesley gave me a funny look as I did this but didn’t say anything. After that we got on our bikes and continued with our trip.
We ended up riding our bikes a couple of miles down Beacon Street, then down Tremont, taking a left on Boylston to lower Washington Street, which ended up maybe being four miles in total from Kenmore Square. We got off our bikes across the street from two strip clubs. This was where I had planned to do my demon watching and counting. I was curious about whether demons would be attracted to places like these strip clubs. Maybe not so much by the naked women but by how gross and unseemly these places are. I was thinking they might come here to soak in the desperation and unhappiness that must permeate clubs like these. It was a new theory I was working on, and I was also planning to do counts outside of divey, skeevy bars, the types that attract lowlifes and down-and-out alcoholics. Wesley started complaining right away.
“This is weird,” he said. “Why are we here?”
I didn’t bother answering him, and instead concentrated on counting the people who walked by. These were mostly men going into and out of the strip clubs, but others walked by, as well: some businessmen who were cutting through the area, a few other stragglers, and one woman who I thought at first was a stripper with the way she was dressed, especially her huge high heels. She tottered over to us, looking unsteady on her high heels as she crossed the street. Up close she didn’t look too good. Without her shoes, she would’ve been shorter than Wesley, probably no more than five foot two inches. She was also on the chunky side, and her body was stuffed into a halter top that exposed her belly and a pair of ultra-short mini-pants. Her thighs had a flabby look to them and her exposed belly made me think of a dead fish I once saw washed up on the beach. Her complexion was a mess, and she had so much makeup on that she looked sort of ghoulish. I don’t think she was more than twenty, but she looked so much older than that to me. She gave me a smile, then Wesley, and asked what we were doing there. That was when I noticed a sore on her upper lip. Wesley was too scared to say anything. I looked away from her and returned to my count.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see her licking her lips, her tongue caressing her sore.
“If you boys have twenty dollars, I’ll take you two behind that alley and make it worth your while.”
Wesley might have peed a little in his pants right then. At least I thought I detected a whiff of urine.
“Not interested,” I told her as I tried to keep my focus on my count.
She moved so that she was right in front of me. The expression on her face had tightened and her mouth was squeezed into an ugly little oval that made her sore look even more gross. I tried looking past her, but she was blocking me.
“You think you’re too good for me?” she spat out in a tight, angry voice. “Both of you with your half-inch lily white dicks? I oughta cut them off. And cut your lily white faces—”
This was getting annoying. More than annoying. Not only was she scaring the crap out of Wesley, but she was interfering with my count. And as she was spewing her threats I saw a demon exit one of the strip clubs! This one was wearing a business suit but was still as grotesque as all the other demons I’d seen. I took out my iPhone so I could snap a photo of it but she slapped my hand away.
“Get away from me,” I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. “What I’m doing here is important and you’re interfering with me.”
I took a step toward her and she nearly fell over backing away from me. A look of fear flashed across her face and she hurried across the street to get further away from me. It wasn’t until then that she started shouting more threats at us and how she could suck us off better than any little rich white girl we’ll ever find, but I’d mostly tuned her out and she became not much more than background noise, like if someone a block away had been honking their horn. I needed to get a picture of that demon, but he was already too far away for that and had his back turned to us. I told Wesley to wait where he was, and I got on my bike and raced after this demon. As I pulled up in front of him I took his photo trying to be as inconspicuous as I could. I don’t think he noticed. At least I hope he didn’t. I kept riding straight ahead and used my iPhone as kind of a rear view mirror. When I saw the demon turn down Nassau Street, I circled back so I could pick up Wesley.
Wesley’s face was as white as milk by the time I got back to him. The chunky prostitute who had offered to suck us off was still right across the street, but she wasn’t yelling anything anymore. Wesley gazed at me with an expression both livid and dazed.
“You just left me,” he said. “How could you do that?”
“Get on your bike now and follow me,” I ordered.
“No, you tell me what’s going on!”
“I don’t have time for this.” I gave him a disgusted look. Here I was trying to identify another demon, and he’s giving me this type of aggravation? “You can find your own way home,” I told him. I then got on my bike and pedaled hard toward Nassau Street. I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder, but I could hear Wesley struggling to keep up with me. When I got to Nassau Street I kept going and waited until I got to Oak Street to take a left, then pedaled furiously until I approached Harrison Avenue. I pulled my bike over so that I was against a brick building at the corner there and edged forward to look down Harrison Avenue, but kept close to the building so I wouldn’t be seen. Wesley was coming up behind me, and I signaled for him to follow my lead. He was huffing pretty badly as he pulled up.
“Henry, what are you doing?”
“Be quiet,” I ordered. As I expected, the demon had gotten onto Harrison Avenue from Nassau Street and was now walking in the opposite direction. I couldn’t afford to let him see me again. If he did, he would know I was following him, so I stood where I was hiding and watched him. When I saw him enter one of the buildings on Harrison, I let out my breath and realized for the first time I’d been feeling dizzy. I’d probably been holding my breath ever since I snuck up behind that building. I collapsed forward with my hands on my knees and the dizziness passed. I put a hand to my forehead and felt a sticky wetness. I was sweating badly and hadn’t even
realized it.
“You look like you’re sick,” Wesley said.
“Yeah? You looked like you were going to pee in your pants when that prostitute came over to us.”
He closed his mouth and gave me a hard stare. Then he shook his head.
“We shouldn’t have come here,” he said. “My parents would be pissed if they knew I came here.”
“No one twisted your arm,” I said.
Wesley closed his mouth again and gave me another long look. This time it was one of pity.
“Why is that man so important?” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“That man who came out of the strip club. The one wearing the dark gray suit. The one you had to take a picture of and follow here. Why was it so important for you to do that?”
I wanted to kick myself for bringing Wesley along. He had come with me on other trips to Boston so I could do my counts, but this was the first he’d been with me when I had spotted a demon. This was a mistake. I knew it in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I was just fooling around, that’s all. Let’s head back home. We’ve got a long ride back.”
“You’re not planning on doing something stupid, are you Henry? Like trying to blackmail that man because you caught him leaving a strip club?”
I felt my cheeks reddening as Wesley questioned my motives. Here I was, doing what I had to because of these demons, and I had to listen to Wesley insinuating that I was a blackmailer?
“Don’t be an asshole,” I said.
Wesley didn’t want to let it drop. I guess he was still angry at me for leaving him on Washington Street before.
“Something’s up with you,” he said. “All your spying and note taking.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Who do you think these people are that you’re spying on? Terrorists? Enemies of the state?”
“Stop it now. If you want to stay friends, stop it.”
It was a mistake taking Wesley on one of my missions, and I wasn’t about to make that mistake again. From now on I was going to take these trips alone. I got on my bike and headed down Harrison, so I could pass the building the demon had gone into. I wish I could’ve investigated more at that time, but it would’ve been impossible with Wesley alongside me. I noted the building’s address, then kept going straight until I turned down Boylston Street so that Wesley and I could head back to Waban.
Friday, August 26th 6:07 PM
I’VE BEEN SICK IN BED THE LAST TWO DAYS. WEDNESDAY NIGHT around one in the morning I woke up shivering like crazy with my teeth chattering, and was soon throwing up the rest of the night. I must’ve overexerted myself riding into Boston and chasing down that demon. Or maybe when that chunk of a prostitute had gotten in my face and yelled at me some of her diseased spittle got in my mouth. Whatever caused it, I haven’t been this sick in years. For part of the last two days I’ve been delirious with all these hallucinations involving demons, at times believing that demons were hiding in my room. It was as if I was seeing them trying to hide by the foot of my bed, or catching their unblinking yellow eyes spying on me from inside my closet. At times I was imagining them sitting on my bed next to me, at other times my hallucinations had me other places with them. I hope I didn’t say anything while I was having these hallucinations, or at least nothing that my parents could’ve made sense of.
My fever broke three hours ago, which is why I’m now at my desk writing. I’m weak and I’m damp with sweat, but at least I’m out of bed. My mom came home early from work today. She wanted me to have chicken soup, and I had to remind her once again that I’m a vegetarian. She actually went out after that to get me vegetable broth, and also bought me a quart of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a bag of Milano cookies, which are my favorite. For the first time in a long time ASD she’s been acting as if she actually cares about me.
I lost precious time the last two days, especially with school starting soon. There’s so much I need to do. Even if I’m still weak tomorrow, as long as I can get out of bed I’m going to Boston. I need to identify the demon from the other day, and I want to go back to Washington Street and do a longer count outside those strip clubs. I need to see whether that one demon was an anomaly or if other demons are attracted to those clubs. Also, I’ve been wanting to stop by Cornwall’s for days now to see if they have any new books.
After my fever broke and my thinking became clearer, I picked up my copy of Daemonologie and a German-English dictionary to continue my translation. I hadn’t totally given up on the book yet, and this time I found something that excited me and made me think that the book wasn’t completely worthless. According to Schweikert dogs and demons are natural enemies. He hypothesizes that the reason for this is because dogs can detect the scent of a demon. He further goes on to say that for this reason demons will hunt dogs to create a dog-free area where they live. He doesn’t say anything about demons eating dogs. Maybe centuries of hunting dogs has caused them to acquire a taste for them. This passage lines up so closely with what I’ve observed that it’s causing me to reconsider previous passages in Schweikert’s book that I had earlier discounted. In any case, I’m now determined to finish my translation.
I hear my mom in the hallway–she must be coming back to check on me, so I better hide this journal. Ciao for now.
Saturday, August 27th 8:30 AM
SOMEONE ANSWERED MY AD. I DIDN’T THINK THAT WOULD happen. I put the ad out there as a million to one shot, but now I’m both excited and nervous. Maybe even scared. Let me explain.
From the moment I accepted that I was really seeing demons, I’ve been obsessed with the thought that someone else must see them also. Genuinely see them like I do, not someone suffering from a brain injury or mental disorder. What I finally decided to do was put an ad in the Avalerian. The Avalerian is this alternative newspaper we have in Boston where people place personal ads for everything imaginable. Every possible sexual orientation there is has pages of ads. Things outside of sex, too. Lonely hearts ads. Tracking down old boyfriends and girlfriends. The great thing about putting ads in the Avalerian is you can do it anonymously. I was able to mail the ad in without a return address and simply included the cash payment. My ad read ‘Do you see demons also?’ and included a codename and a password to a private message board to leave a message.
My ad ran a month ago, and that first week I checked the message board compulsively. Nothing. Now I was only checking it every couple of days with no real hope of finding anything.
But this morning I found something. Waiting for me on the message board was this message: I see them too. Blood-skin ugly bastards. How do we meet?
I’d created my message board user account so it couldn’t be tracked back to me. The person who had responded used the name Virgil, and had done the same. I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to know what I’d do if someone answered my ad. As I tried thinking about what my next step would be, I realized I was stumped. It was possible Virgil was legit. It was possible he or she was a flake, or someone just goofing around. But it was also possible Virgil was a demon trying to discover who it was that could see demons. If I arranged for us to meet somewhere, I could be walking into a trap. And if Virgil was legit, he’d have the same issues with me. If I gave him a location so I could spy on him from a distance in order to make sure it wasn’t a demon showing up, Virgil would have to worry about giving himself away, too. It exhausted me trying to think of all the possible different scenarios of how we could safely meet, and it depressed me to realize that none of them would work. It was possible I’d found someone who’d been cursed the same as I was, someone I could team up with, someone who could help me lessen the burden that had been placed on me. But how? Since I couldn’t think of anything better, I sent him (if Virgil was a he) a test and asked him to send me a photo of one of the demons he had spotted.
I’m still not close to a hundred percent. My legs are rubbery, and when I stood earlier I felt light
headed. But time is running out before school starts. Once that happens the amount of hours I’m going to be able to dedicate to this is going to drop off dramatically. I’ll be heading off to Boston soon to do the things I have to get done, but as a compromise I’ll take the subway instead of riding my bike.
Saturday, August 27th 11:25 PM
MY PARENTS—ESPECIALLY MY MOM—WERE NOT HAPPY THAT I snuck out of the house without telling them, and even more that I didn’t answer my phone. They made sure to give me an earful about it when I got home later, which I found incredibly hypocritical. I’ve been coming and going without their caring for almost two years, and all of a sudden they’re going to start acting like uberparents? Please. Give me a break! I’m surprised they even knew my cell phone number.
Since I wasn’t up for a lecture I fed them a line about how I’d forgotten to charge my phone before I left the house, and that was why I’d turned it off. I also forced a puzzled look as I told them that I thought I’d left them a note, and that I left it because I didn’t want to disturb their Saturday morning private time. Most weekends they’re both heading off to work on Saturday mornings. Occasionally, they don’t, though, and when they don’t, it’s because they’re spending the morning going down on each other. Whenever I hear a CD playing from their bedroom, especially on a weekend morning, I know it’s to drown out the noise they’re making. That morning I heard one of those old mellow rockers they like, the guy who does Moondance. His music was seeping from their bedroom, and that made it easy for me to sneak out without them hassling me.
Since I wasn’t up to riding my bike into the city, I walked to the Waban T stop and took the subway into Boston. No demon sightings or anything else unusual during the ride. I took out my phone and studied the photo I’d snapped of the demon who’d left the strip club. His human appearance was that of a square-jawed type; someone who could’ve been a fullback or linebacker in high school. A little cleft in his chin, his blond hair cut short into a bristle cut. The type that women probably fawn over. If only they knew the truth. I wondered if demons ever took women back to their places to fuck. They probably did. I couldn’t help feeling queasy thinking about how that would work. Women probably looked at these demon dicks and thought they were normal human ones, but in reality they must be grotesque appendages—like everything else about these demons. Daemonologie claimed a demon’s dick was razor sharp. If that was true, they’d be slicing the hell out of the poor women that they were bedding. And even if that wasn’t true, what type of diseases would they be passing on? Thinking about that made me shudder. It also made me realize that if they were bringing women back to their dwellings to fuck, these women wouldn’t be leaving alive. I wondered more about this—about whether these demons trafficked in missing women, women whose bodies would never be discovered. The possibilities were awful.
The Boy Who Killed Demons: A Novel Page 4
