Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle)

by AJ Salem

  When the sounds of grappling moved far enough away to the other side of the house, I used the time to jump straight into my room. I pulled a small duffle from the top shelf of my closet and began packing up my laptop and a change of clothes as well as the notebook of sigils with all my copies and parchment.

  I was hesitant to leave. My father’s behavior might have been unstable but he always managed to pull through and turn back to his old self.

  It’ll only be for the night. Tomorrow he’ll be better and I’ll come back.

  I walked away from the grunts and sounds of wood splintering to the master bedroom. There was a picture of Brian I had to take with me.

  The generally immaculate room was in shambles. The bed was unmade, sheets and blankets were strewn all over the floor. Hangers and clothing covered every other inch of the room. The closet doors had been torn off their hinges and were leaning against the thick damask drapes that were now torn to shreds. With my fists in front of me, I walked to the large vanity where the words Get Gemma were scrawled in red liquid that had caked dry only after it had oozed down and collected into a pool on top of the mahogany table.

  I really hope that’s not what I think it is.

  Not willing to risk myself any longer and find out what exactly Get Gemma meant, I grabbed my favorite framed photo of my brother and jumped out through the bedroom window.

  It was cold and dark at the base of the tree. My senses were on high alert, still fueled by the adrenaline it had taken to get here past the flying Dybbuk that had cloaked the town in search of their next host, and hordes of possessed people looking for more violence.

  At night the overgrown grass looked menacing and the pile of junk was the perfect hiding places for boogey men. The damp earth filled my mind with exaggerated visions of enormous killer centipedes crawling up my legs. I made sure to stomp my boots every few seconds just in case.

  When a figure began to move towards me, I jumped from my spot on the low-lying log.

  “Thank goodness you’re here. How is he?” I asked, hoping my dad was okay.

  “Didn’t reckon you’d be so glad to see me.” There was only one person around Harrisport with that accent.

  “Thom.”

  He stepped closer until we were inches apart. The only light coming from the nearby gas station was enough to highlight more than a days’ worth of five o’clock shadow. And somehow, even amidst the chilling night, he was able to exude warmth.

  “What are you doing here?” I tried to come off strong but I only sounded petty and obnoxious.

  “Could ask you the same thing. Hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine. Actually, I’m better than fine. Even after the stunt you pulled earlier.”

  “I’m trying to protect you, Gemma. When will you realize that?”

  “When you start trusting me back and telling me what the hell is really going on,” I said.

  “You’re driving me mad, girl.”

  “You hurt me,” I said, tucking my bandaged arm into my jacket.

  The cicadas turned up the volume and the chittering was surrounding us.

  “I’m truly sorry for that. That’s why I’m here.” He drew something out of his jacket. It was the leather journal I had seen with him the last few days. “Couldn’t get everything in there. Only bits and pieces that I could remember. Maybe you can find something in there to sort out this mess. I can’t interfere anymore.”

  I took the book and shoved it into my duffle. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I can kind of figure out who you are. I just don’t know which side you’re playing for.”

  “For your sake, I hope you don’t find out.” He placed a gloved hand on my cheek. I drew back, expecting only pain but he held my cheek steady, showing me that I was safe. His face hovered above mine and I caught the sweet scent of cinnamon once again. “Sweet Gemma. Don’t ever change.”

  My heart was racing.

  “Is this goodbye?” I asked.

  “Something like it.”

  “How will I know what to do?”

  “You seem to have it covered. My hands are tied from here on in, however this story may play out.” He perked his head up and looked around. “Gotta run,” he said.

  “Wait. What if..”

  He was gone before I could finish my question. Before I could call back out to him, I heard a crunch from behind.

  “Hey.” It was Ian. “Who were you talking to?”

  I stuck my hand in my bag, feeling the smooth leather of the book Thom had entrusted to me.

  “No one,” I said. “Just was freaking out a bit.”

  “I would have been here sooner.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “Let’s just say he’s taking a nap.”

  We headed off into the Drifts and I didn’t look back.

  When we got to Ian’s house on the hill, it was daytime.

  “Strange,” I said.

  “What is?”

  “This place stays gray. It doesn’t change.”

  “Don’t expect things to follow the same rules in the Drifts. Let’s get in.” Ian stopped at the lake to pull his sweater over his head, revealing a smooth expanse of taut skin over well-formed muscle.

  Gulp.

  “It’s freezing.” I rubbed the sides of my arms as he continued to undress, unbuckling the thick black leather belt at his waist. “And I’m tired.”

  “Just go with it. I promise you’ll love it,” he said as he tucked his thumbs into the waistline of his fitted jeans and stepped out of them.

  “I don’t have a suit,” I said.

  He didn’t seem to care and showed no signs of stopping. I followed his lead and began peeling away the layers of clothing until we were both standing in the frigid wind in just our undies. I wrapped my arms around my soft stomach that running couldn’t seem to get rid of, embarrassed at how I must look in front of such a perfect guy like Ian. His yellow octopus print boxers hung precariously past the edge of his pelvic bone, revealing the deep vee of his oblique muscles and I followed the line all the way down his legs.

  He even has nice feet.

  If I hadn’t been standing near naked in the freezing cold, I would have jumped into a cold shower to calm my raging hormones. As he gracefully slipped into the water, I took note of the large skeletal wings tattooed across the entire expanse of Ian’s back. He beckoned me to follow. Mesmerized by the way his eyes reflected the intense blues around him, I sat on the wooden boardwalk that ran alongside the water and slid my feet into the soothing hot water, eventually lowering myself beside him, happy to obscure the rest of my body from his heated gaze.

  I never had the chance to even fumble or hesitate or babble because Ian was beside me in seconds. His face leaned closer to mine. I was giddy and nervous at the chance for another kiss. And more. He took me in his arms and placed them on his shoulders. Instinct had me wrapping my legs around his waist and he swam us towards a bevy of volcanic rock that was coated in white chalky silica.

  I tucked my face into the dip of his shoulder and watched the water glow, painting a picture for myself in my mind so that I could remember this moment. Ian swam wide circles around the small island while I held on and tried to steady the frenzied beat of my heart. I took a strong deep breath. The smell of him and the minerals was heady.

  When I finally got the courage to look up, Ian was there with his all-knowing smirk and devilishly arched brows. He lowered his face until our noses touched and brought one hand up my ribs until it rested just below my breast. I remained frozen as his soft lips touched mine. He ran his index finger under the elastic of my bra and I sucked in the cold air as he pulled me deeper into the water and his embrace.

  I ran my hands across his jaw and pulled him deeper into the kiss letting my hands travel along his spine. That’s when his face turned serious and he pressed my back up against the chalk rocks, crumbling them beneath me. He planted a trail of desire along my neck, collarbone, breastbone, all the way down my a
bdomen and back up again.

  We lay there, his body on top of mine on the small white island while he twisted strands of my hair into coils. Our eyes met once more. He peeled a wet strand of hair away from my eyes and brushed the back of his hand up and down my cheek. He did the same on the other side and I recoiled, having forgotten about the bruise Allison had inflicted. It felt like years had gone by since then.

  “Shh. I’ll make it better,” he said and he left his kisses on every part of me that felt battered and bruised. After unwrapping the wet gauze, I caught the wicked purple handprint on my forearm. He didn’t balk at the sight. Instead, I felt the whisper of his breath as energy left his voice and infused my skin.

  When he was finished weaving whatever magic he used, I gasped. The skin had mended. No hand in sight.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice hushed. And with that gesture, I let Ian take me to yet another place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  My mind felt foggy. It reminded me of being a kid when you weren’t too sure of what was going on around you or what was going to happen next. All you really knew was going on in the bubble around your head, floating right within your grasp while everything else faded out into fuzz.

  I licked my dry lips and looked around me. Ian, whose sleeping form was face down, sprawled across the bed, appeared to be at war with the blankets.

  There was a deep thrumming sound coming from somewhere outside that kept intruding behind my skull. My bare feet hit the wood floor without a sound. I let the sheets drop away and pulled on yesterday’s sweater.

  Today, the world here was gray. Dark and light played off each other in a dramatic contrast. Rain cascaded down the sides of the house, warping the view of the surrounding hillside.

  I rested my cheek against the glass and let the cold sink in while looking at myself up close in the reflection, checking my eyes for any differences.

  No one would probably notice except me.

  The clouds were blacker now, spreading their wings across the sky as they dumped bucket loads of rain. Only when landing in the lagoon did the raindrops dive into a colorful existence of aquas.

  It was sad and beautiful. I could understand why Ian sought refuge here. It was the sort of bleak beauty that caressed you and made you feel comfortable with your own depression. No expectations of happiness. Just serene passivity.

  The urge to feel the fresh air overtook me. I slid the heavy, barn-style wooden door to the side. The thrumming got louder and discordant, scraping against my insides. It was not a language known to man, yet somehow I knew it to be words. Screeches and clicks. I pulled at my hair, trying to relieve my scalp of the throbbing pressure. That’s when the snickering began tunneling its way to my eardrum. My hands came up to cover my ears and I stepped out and let the rain beat against me.

  Then the noise stopped and when I saw him at the top of a cliff, I dropped to the ground.

  Brian.

  I scrambled up, clawing my way up the through the mud. My hands and feet were sinking into the ground, releasing with a wet slurping pop as I struggled for an even hold with each step. I reached the top, panting and choking on the wind. He gave me his hand and I took it.

  Gemma. Don’t speak.

  His words pierced my mind.

  They can hear us in the Drifts.

  I tried to press my thoughts to him to see if I could do the same.

  It only works one way.

  He was wearing the same shirt as the day of the accident - a vintage Zoso concert tee I had found in the sale bin at Past and Presents.

  You can’t trust him.

  “Who?” I said.

  He brought his finger up to his lips.

  Shh. They’ll hear you and find you. They’re all looking for you.

  I watched a dark damp circle the size of a quarter appear on his chest. It bloomed larger and larger. A bloody flower unfurling its petals.

  He knows. They’ll follow you.

  His clothing was drenched but the more the rain washed over him, the more blood spilled out of his body, pooling at our feet. The ground beneath us began to give way. My feet sank in up until my knees and the rain and the blood rushed in. Panic set in. I frantically started to dig out my legs but the mud was stronger. It held me in place as I watched Brian’s eyes go black. He opened his mouth and a flock of crows exploded around us. Their wings flapped against my skin. I brought my arms up to protect my face and screamed.

  “Are you okay?”

  I bolted up, surrounded by warm flannel sheets and Ian’s embrace. I turned to the window, my heart still trying to beat its way out of my chest. There were no signs of birds or rain. Or Brian.

  The question hung heavy in the air and held more weight than mere concern about my nightmare.

  “I think so.” The air was chilly and I drew the blankets up to my neck. Ian looked wounded at the retreat and I quickly tried to smooth things over. “I’m great. Last night was great.”

  He inched his body closer to mine and planted a kiss on my bare shoulder.

  “I’m glad.”

  Suddenly, with Ian so close to me, I became aware of my own need for basic hygiene.

  “Bathroom?”

  “There’s a pocket door hiding past the table there.”

  I turned my back towards him and put on my shirt, knowing that I was being shy for no reason, considering we were naked together all night. In the harsh light of the morning, though, I needed to feign modesty for my own comfort.

  Once in the privacy of the small room, I tried my best to rinse out the morning breath and tame the wild nest of bed head while sneaking a peek at the medicine cabinet. It was empty.

  Back in the room, Ian was sitting on the bed, watching the sky, giving me another glimpse of the intricate artwork that graced his body. The shading on the bones and wings made the tattoo appear lifelike. I sat behind him and traced my finger along the lines. “When did you get this?”

  He laughed. Not in a funny, haha way. It was bitter.

  “It’s been there a while.”

  “Is it from some sort of magic? Like mine?” I leaned in and rested my head on him.

  “Yes.” He exhaled. “And no.”

  I didn’t press him for any more details. It would be a pretty easy way to ruin the moment and I figured if he wanted to tell me about it, he would in time.

  We sat there until darkness descended once again. “It’s not night time already, is it?” I asked.

  “It can’t be.” He put on his shirt, stood up and headed for the door. It slid open with ease. Ian stood in the doorway, turned and then looked up. “Get your stuff.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, searching for my jeans on the floor.

  “They found us,” he said as he struggled to get the door closed again. It groaned and squeaked at his attempts but didn’t budge. “The door’s stuck. Hurry up!”

  I zipped my jeans closed and grabbed my duffle. He took me by the arm and led me to the door.

  “Wait,” I said, stopping us in our tracks. All I saw were heavy clouds rolling in, blotting out the sky. “What exactly is out there? I don’t see anything.”

  “You don’t want to know.” His eyes were feverish with fear. “Just keep your eyes to the ground and don’t let go. I’ll get us out of here.”

  I let him lead me outside and kept my head down as we traversed the hills, heading in the opposite direction of the lagoon.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We need to get back to the club. There’s a porthole a few miles away. Don’t stop.”

  The ground was rocky and coated in slick green lichen. I was glad of my Doc’s that seemed better suited for gripping while on the run. Curiosity got the best of me when I heard noises coming from behind us. It was the same chittering that I had heard in my dream.

  I looked back to find hundreds of black birds flying towards us. My foot stubbed a rock and I tripped but Ian was there to keep me on pace. When the birds got closer, I could see they weren�
�t birds at all. They were the size and shape of a small monkey but the similarities ended there. Their small round heads were all eyes and teeth atop a body that was slick and black. The fur around their necks plumed out like a crown while the skin beneath it was hairless and taut, enhancing their emaciated forms. Their taloned wings were leathery and spanned five feet across.

  “Ian, what the..?”

  “Just run.”

  And that’s what we did. Across the plain, exposed to our predators without any cover. Finally, we ran passed brushes of knee-high grass to a stagnant pool of brown water. An odor of decay wafted up to my nose and I sneezed.

  “The porthole is at the bottom of the lake.”

  “’Scuse me?”

  “I’ll navigate down there. You just need to make sure not to let go of my hand.”

  “No way. I’m not getting in there.”

  “You have to. It’s the only way out. And you do not want them catching up.”

  “What are they?”

  “They’re the Dybbuk. On this side of the veil that’s what they look like.”

  I turned again to see them rolling in like a wave towards us. The screeching was vibrating the ground beneath us and sounded very much like echoes of my name.

  “Let’s go then,” I said and braved myself for the lesser of two evils.

  Ian took my hand and said, “Remember, don’t let go.” He gave me a smile that had me thinking of our night together, which, now amidst the hoard of mutant flying monkeys, seemed so long ago.

  I slid my arms through both handles of my duffle so that it rested on my back, took his hand and smiled back.

  The water was a shock to my system. I had expected it to be at least as warm as the lagoon. It was cold, shooting its icy tendrils down to my nerves. After the initial splash, we dove right in. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid not only of the dirty water but of what could be lurking in a place like this. We swam deeper into the abyss until the pressure began to press against my lungs, setting me into a panic. I opened my eyes to get an idea of how much longer we would be descending. I couldn’t see much through the haze so I gripped Ian’s hand a bit tighter and tried to swim a little stronger.