“What makes you think it was funny mushrooms that made you sick and not spoiled milk?” I asked with a sigh, my tone even wearier. Wesley’s eyes narrowed into angry slits and his hands curled into fists. He looked comical with his jeans and shirt too tight for his pencil-thin body, and here he was, ready to launch himself at me. I’d snap him in half if we got into a fight. He had to know that.
“After they were found in your locker, I looked them up on the Internet,” Wesley said, jutting his weak chin at me, his breathing having become more ragged, as if he were fighting to keep from flying at me with fists and feet. “The way they affect you, that’s what I was poisoned with.”
“Yeah? Did you also look up botulism? The way you were throwing up, that’s what I would’ve guessed.”
“You poisoned me! With mushrooms!”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you thought it would be a big joke. That’s why you agreed to come over to my house to read comic books. So you could get me high on mushrooms and laugh about it later. You didn’t count on me getting as sick as I did.”
“Is that what you really think of me?” I asked.
The hurt tone in my voice must’ve taken him aback. It was genuine and he knew it, and he reacted to it by blinking stupidly a couple of time, the pinched tightness of his mouth loosening. I really was surprised that he’d think so little of me. That I’d slip him mushrooms for a reason as sick and cruel as that.
“Okay, I don’t know why you did it, but whatever your reason was, I know that’s what happened.” He was trying to sound insistent, but he had lost a good deal of his conviction. Even with this newfound doubt, he still had his hands clenched into tiny fists.
I let out another heavy sigh and pushed myself away from the table and onto my feet. “If you want to throw a punch at me, go ahead, but I’ll break your jaw,” I promised him. “You were supposed to be one of the few friends I had left, and you’re going to believe the worst of me like this. Fuck, man, I expected better from you.”
Now I had him totally confused. Not convinced, but confused enough so that he didn’t throw the punch he’d been dying to throw at me. He probably would’ve only hurt his hand if he had, at least if he was successful and connected. I doubt Wesley had ever punched anyone before.
I told him he’d better leave, and I showed him to the door, and that was how it went with Wesley.
I’d mentioned in an earlier journal entry how Sally left a bunch of text messages and calls on Tuesday. I ended up deleting them without reading or listening to them. I didn’t feel up to hearing any more of her disappointment in me, and even though I knew it was over between us, I didn’t actually want to hear her say it. Well, they continued, and against my better judgment I picked up a call from her last night. There was so much hurt in her voice when she asked me how I could’ve been selling drugs on school grounds. I gave her the same tired spiel about the drugs being planted in my locker. Then added how my dad had been looking into what happened.
“What my dad found out is that the police were brought to the school because of an anonymous email sent to the principal that Connor Devin had drugs stashed in his locker. It was Devin that then brought the police to my locker, saying that he had heard I had drugs.”
“So?”
“The school is doing an investigation, and so far they’ve found no one else who had ever seen me with drugs or heard that I was dealing them. Which you know is true. So why would Devin say that?”
I held my forehead in my hand as I waited for Sally to say something. I felt so damn tired right then. Exhausted, really. Like all I wanted to do was lie down on my bed and close my eyes. That was it. Just be able to fall asleep and never have to wake up. That would’ve been something. To never have to worry about demons again.
But that wasn’t going to be the case.
When it became obvious that Sally wasn’t going to connect the dots to where I was trying to lead her, I did it for her. “He hid them in my locker,” I continued. “Either Devin was tipped off about the police coming or he made the anonymous call himself.”
“Why would he do that?”
“So he could frame me and get me kicked out of school.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Sally hesitated, and I could imagine her brow creasing as she bit at her thumbnail, trying to make sense of what I was saying. That image brought such a heaviness to my chest that I had trouble breathing. “Why would he want to do that?” she asked.
“Because he knows that I know he’s evil, and he probably also wants to get rid of me because he knows we’re together, and he wants you.”
“He’s not evil.” Her tone had changed subtly as if she were flattered that I had suggested Devin wanted her. I kept forgetting about his Justin Bieber façade. Still, the thought that she’d feel flattered by that made me a little nuts. “Please, Henry,” she added, “Stop saying that about Connor.”
“He is evil. Didn’t you see the way that drug-sniffing dog reacted to him? That poor animal was just about killing himself trying to get away from Devin.”
“That dog must’ve smelled drugs elsewhere, like your locker, and was only trying to get there. That’s what was going on. So please, quit saying Connor is evil. It makes you sound crazy.”
She could’ve ripped out my fingernails and it wouldn’t have hurt as much as hearing her say that. My voice sounded very strange to me as I told her, “I didn’t know those drugs were in my locker. If it wasn’t Devin, then someone else planted them. If you don’t believe me and are unwilling to trust me, we might as well call it quits right now. So do you believe me?”
Sally hesitated for a brief moment, and then, in a soft, halting voice she told me she believed me. I was pretty sure one of her reasons for calling me was to end things between us, but it must’ve stunned her that I was willing to put our relationship on the line the way I did. I think I did it because I must’ve been trying to just get things over. Make it kind of like with a Band-Aid; have it ripped off quickly so it would hurt less. It surprised me that she didn’t take advantage of the opportunity I gave her to end things easily, but it didn’t matter. Whether she wanted it to be or not, it’s over. Once they put Devin in the school to spy on me, it was over, and there was no denying it any longer once I got my hands on a copy of L’Occulto Illuminato. My life is now all about the demons. It has to be. It’s the burden I have to bear, especially now that there’s a good chance that the demons are on to me.
What I told her about the school’s investigation was true. Even during my last heart-to-heart with my dad, it sounded like he was beginning to believe me and suspect something fishy was going on. It didn’t add up that Devin would be the only one to hear about me having drugs in my locker, unless the school officials think that the other students they’re talking to just don’t want to rat on me. But what it comes down to is that my parents have money and the school officials probably believe that Devin being a supposed exchange student from Waltham doesn’t (although I’m sure the demons could raise a substantial amount), so in the end they’ll side with me and probably suspect Devin of planting the drugs, as I’ve been saying all along. Maybe they’ll even end up kicking him out of the school.
So that was how it went with Sally. She believed me about the drugs, or at least said she did. She wasn’t ready to end things with me, even though they were already ended. And in her own way, she confirmed to me that she wanted Devin. Which meant I was going to have to make sure Devin was gone sooner than later.
I also got a call from Curt last night. He sounded like he was in awe when he told me I was now a legend. I told him I wasn’t anything; and once again repeated that tired mantra of the drugs being planted in my locker.
“It’s because of those cops bringing that dog. What a scene. Wow, though, no matter how it turns out, you’re now a legend here. Worthy to be one of Cthulhu’s soldiers.”
“Does he pay well?”
Curt chuckled at that. “Next time I
see him I’ll ask.”
I told Curt I’d see him again soon at school once all this was straightened out. Of course, I was hoping it wouldn’t be straightened out anytime soon. More than ever, I need the time now to translate L’Occulto Illuminato, especially since the demons aren’t going to waste much time coming after me. I’m surprised they haven’t already—maybe they’re still not fully convinced I’m the one they’re after. The one who had been in contact with Virgil.
I should talk about the latest section of L’Occulto Illuminato that I’ve been translating. I can barely read it without breaking into a cold sweat. But I still have pages to go with it, and even when I finish, I’ll have to double-check my translation before I write about it. It’s too important. I can’t afford to get it wrong, especially with the risk of demons coming for me soon, I might not have a chance to correct what I wrote.
I’m staring again at the phone number I got from Chaske as I try to decide what to do with it.
Saturday, October 8th 4:35 AM
MY DAD’S NOW FIRMLY IN MY CORNER. DURING DINNER TONIGHT he became nearly epileptic as he ranted about the lawsuits he was going to file against the school, the principal, the city, you name it. He got so excited that bits of food spat out of his mouth, which was something I never thought I’d see from him.
“It’s outrageous the way they handled it,” he declared angrily to me and my mom, little specs of meatball and spaghetti flying out of his mouth. His face reddened for a moment as if he were choking, but I guess he was just swallowing down his rage. He raised his fork for emphasis, a piece of meatball attached to it. “Completely outrageous the way they made a spectacle of arresting Henry,” he continued. He stopped for a moment, his jaw muscles tensing and his lips flattening out into thin hard lines, then he went on, “They had no corroborating evidence, just the word of one student—the very one they were investigating! And since then they haven’t found a single student who could corroborate what this Devin kid is saying. Which is exactly what Henry’s been claiming would be the case. Someone planted those drugs in Henry’s locker. Probably that Devin kid. It all adds up that way.”
My mom didn’t look too convinced of my innocence, but she didn’t argue with him. I’m sure that with my dad arguing my case and with his threats of lawsuits, the school will be reinstating me soon and my charges will be dropped. Maybe this will cause them to look into the demon Devin more closely, and maybe even get them to find out he doesn’t live at that Waltham foster home like he’s supposed to. Of course, Wesley could start telling people that I spiked his chocolate milk with psilocybin mushrooms, and that might throw a wrench into everything. But maybe not. He wouldn’t have any proof at this point, and with him being such an odd duck, people would probably be suspicious of his motives—maybe think he was making those claims to get attention. No, there’s little doubt I’ll be back in school soon, which is unfortunate. I need more time with L’Occulto Illuminato, especially after what I had just finished translating. I have to hope it takes my dad at least another week before he’s able to get me back into school, but a week wouldn’t be enough time for what I need to do. Even a month probably wouldn’t be enough time.
Before dinner I finished translating the latest section I’d been working on, and I spent the last seven hours verifying my translation. There are no mistakes, no doubting what I’ve come up with. This section is absolutely chilling, and it explains what Clifton Gibson was doing in Brooklyn, and why Ginny Cataldo and Trey Wilkerson were taken. And not just them, but all the other little kids the demons must be stealing. I know of two others: a three-year-old girl just shy of her fourth birthday was taken in Maine a few weeks ago, as well as one in Rhode Island. Their abductions didn’t make the local news here, but I found out about them through Internet searches that I’ve been doing since finishing this latest translation, and I’m convinced that demons are behind them. I’m also convinced that there will be other abductions of not-quite-four-year-olds. There will be thirty-nine abductions in this area, and thirty-nine in four other areas around the world—more if any of the children die before the demons can finish their rituals.
So in addition to the time I need to finish translating L’Occulto Illuminato, there’s also a good chance I’ll have to sneak away to New York for a day. I hope that won’t be the case, because it will be dangerous in its own right, but there may be no way around it.
So now about the recent section I translated. The one that explained what Clifton Gibson and other demons were doing in Brooklyn, and what must be going on in Boston now. And four other cities around the world—cities where if you connected them with Boston added in you’d form a five-pointed star. That’s why they were able to move their rituals from Brooklyn to Boston. Because they’re close enough so that that star would still be formed. Let me explain. The section I translated outlines the rituals these demons need to perform to open the gates to hell.
The rituals are complicated, but involve abducting thirty-nine children under the age of four, carving symbols into their bodies and skulls, and sewing their eyes shut and their mouths mostly shut. They sew their mouths mostly shut so the children can’t scream, which would interfere with their rituals, but they don’t sew them completely shut because then the children would die of dehydration and starve to death, and the demons need them alive between the span of two full moons so they can perform these horrible rituals. Oh, they can’t cut out their tongues because that’s for the very end. But if these rituals are performed in five cities around the world—and those cities form a five-pointed star—then the gates to hell will open wide and demons and other dark creatures will flood the earth. And it will be the end of man.
So as you can see, the ante has been raised. If I ever had a choice of ignoring these demons before, I don’t any longer. I have to stop what’s happening, and my head’s spinning just thinking about it.
I’m too tired to do any more translating now, but I know there’s no chance I’ll be able to sleep. Before sitting down to write this last entry I tried sleeping, but when I closed my eyes all I could see was what these demons must be doing to all those abducted children right now. The very thought of it is both sickening and heartbreaking.
All I know is that I need to learn how to kill these demons before they come after me. And I need to find those children. I know they’re somewhere in the Boston area. According to L’Occulto Illuminato the rituals must be held in five heavily populated cities that are also major cultural centers.
The only thing I have going for me is that the rules for opening up the gates of hell are complicated, and I’ve got time. At least two full moons’ worth from when the last of the thirty-nine children are abducted. The one kidnapped in Rhode Island was taken two weeks ago, which would give me three weeks. I could have a lot more time than that—they still might be collecting the thirty-nine children that they need. But the problem is that since I don’t know how many they’ve taken so far, I have to assume the worst: that they’ve already started their rituals.
So while it was purely accidental on the demon Connor Devin’s part, he did me a huge favor getting me kicked out of school, and I have to hope it takes my dad longer than he expects to get me reinstated. I need all the time I can get now if I’m going to save this world from being overrun by hell.
Monday, October 10th 9:10 PM
THREE SIGNIFICANT EVENTS OCCURRED TODAY, AT LEAST AS FAR as these demons go. I’ll write about them now from least to most significant.
First and least, I went to New York today and met with the detective in charge of the Clifton Gibson investigation. I spent all day yesterday agonizing about how to handle things. I needed to know for sure that what Galeotti described in L’Occulto Illuminato were the same rituals that the demons performed on those stolen children in Brooklyn. I needed to know that I could trust every word I read in L’Occulto Illuminato.
The police detective in charge of the Clifton Gibson case was named Joe Thomase. I learned that early on from m
y many Internet searches involving the case. Meeting him in person would be risky. If he arrested me, it would alert the demons that I was the one they were after. And the chance that he’d arrest me was real, since I would be telling him things that only Clifton Gibson and his co-conspirators would know, at least if L’Occulto Illuminato accurately described the rituals that demons need to perform to open the gates of hell. But after running through different scenarios in my head, I couldn’t see how it could work without meeting Thomase in person. So yesterday I rode my bike into Watertown, bought a disposable cell phone, and called Thomase’s precinct. I asked the police officer who answered if I could speak to Thomase. The cop, in an impatient tone, told me Thomase wasn’t in and asked what this was about. I told him I thought I had information about the Clifton Gibson child kidnappings. The cop sounded even more impatient as he told me to leave my name and number. I gave him a made-up name, and he hung up on me the second I finished giving him the number for my disposable phone. I waited two hours, then called back, this time telling the cop answering the phone to tell Thomase that I knew that thirty-nine children were abducted. The number of children found in that Brooklyn warehouse had been withheld in the news. I got a call back fifteen minutes later.
“This is Joe Thomase,” the voice said. “Is this Martin Slater?”
I’d seen pictures of Thomase. A thin man with dark features and piercing eyes. The voice didn’t seem to go with those pictures. It was an old man’s voice. Gruff and hoarse. Maybe he smoked a lot.
“My name’s not really Martin Slater, but I’m the one who called.”
“You sound like a kid.”
“I’m fifteen.”
“Yeah?” If that surprised him, it didn’t show in his voice. “How’d you know that thirty-nine kids were taken? Have you been in contact with Gibson?”
The Boy Who Killed Demons: A Novel Page 15
