by Alix Marsh
“We’ll convince him,” Ice said, her chin raised in stubborn determination.
Flynn was less certain. In fact, he didn’t like the idea at all. “Why would he listen to us?”
“Honestly, Flynn, we have to at least—”
Mrs. Avery put a hand up to hush Ice. Her gaze stayed on him, mildly curious.
Flynn didn’t really have anything more to add, but she seemed to be waiting for more. “I mean, if he’s made his decision…”
Ice’s mouth opened.
Mrs. Avery’s hand came up again.
“He doesn’t even know us,” Flynn said weakly.
He glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at Mrs. Avery. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help. It was just that…that… And then he wasn’t thinking about Jason Forgue at all. He was thinking about his own pledge, the powerlessness, the terror, and suddenly he knew what was really bugging him.
His eyes shot back to Mrs. Avery. “It isn’t right, ganging up on Jason Forgue, trying to force him to do what we want. Pledging should be his choice, and he’s already decided what he wants.”
Ice released a loud, exasperated breath.
But Mrs. Avery was nodding. “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree, Flynn. But Jason already knows too much. Mr. and Mrs. Forgue were rather eager, and Jason has been studying demons this whole last year, since he turned twelve.”
“That’s not allowed,” exclaimed Ice.
“It’s not encouraged,” Mrs. Avery said. “The danger is significant. I suppose the Forgues felt, since they live within the dead zone—” Flynn’s face must have blanked, because she stopped short to elaborate, “There’s a ten mile area—”
“Oh, yeah, the protection ward,” said Flynn. “They don’t live far from here, then?”
“Just past Penzance,” Mrs. Avery said. “They must have felt it safe enough, and they never imagined Jason would refuse the pledge, which makes this all an enormous mess.”
Flynn didn’t know if she was supposed to be persuading him, but it wasn’t working. “So, Jason knows exactly what he’d be getting into, and he doesn’t want to.”
“Do you know why this premature knowledge is so dangerous?” said Mrs. Avery.
Flynn shook his head. To his surprise, so did Ice.
“Inside our brains are…” She touched a finger to her brow.
She seemed to be stuck, so Flynn offered, “Brain cells?”
“Yes, but also pulses… electrical pulses,” Mrs. Avery said. “I won’t pretend to understand the biology, but knowledge carries an energy trace, or perhaps an energy footprint better explains it, and any information pertaining to demons has a unique footprint that they seem able to track. Put simply, the more you know about demons, the more visible you are to them as a threat to be sought out and hunted.
“You’re trained, naturally, in masking mechanisms—you’ll be studying that next year—but the source of that protection comes from your slayer powers. If Jason doesn’t take his pledge, he’ll be vulnerable… He’ll be a target to every demon in the area the moment he sets foot outside the dead zone.”
“Does Jason know this?” Ice said.
“His parents have gone to great pains to stress the importance to him,” Mrs. Avery said. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that boy’s head.”
Flynn still didn’t like—what was the word? manipulating?—Jason, and he still didn’t know how on earth they were supposed to change his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Mrs. Avery had said, he did, and he understood their concerns, but he wished there was another solution, one that didn’t make him partly responsible for Jason’s decisions. But apparently he’d remained silent too long, because next thing, Mrs. Avery was calling Charlie down to give them a lift to the Forgues and Ice was glaring daggers at him, just in case he made a fuss.
He was just incredibly relieved he hadn’t said anything to Toby or Rose, or to his mom and dad. He wished Ellie knew less than she did, but she’d be okay. The historical and general stuff, like most of the kids from slayer families knew, wasn’t specific or detailed enough to leave the kind of footprint demons tracked. He’d made sure to ask Mrs. Avery before they departed with Charlie for Parson’s Corner.
Which wasn’t a village, as Flynn had assumed, or a corner. It was really just a dip in the road. About ten minutes past the Penzance turn off, Charlie slowed down as the road changed into a long, hollowed-out strip of cobbled paving as it passed through Parson’s Corner. On either side of the road, towered a continuous, rough stone wall (broken only now and then to wrap around a narrow alley), so high, the arched wooden gates cut into the stone at intervals looked like mouse holes burrowing through.
They idled past a storefront seemingly carved into the wall, with a red and yellow Post Office sign, and then Charlie pulled up alongside a blackened wood gate with the number 9 on it.
“I’ll give you an hour or so… ” Charlie slid down his window as Flynn and Ice scrambled out of the Land Rover. “That should be enough. I’ll only be in Penzance, so give me a shout if you need to be picked up earlier.”
While Ice punched his number into her phone, Flynn crossed to the intercom system next to the gate. There were three buttons, unlabelled…he pressed each one in turn, and a moment later the gate buzzed open.
“You don’t have to come inside,” Ice clipped out. She’d hardly said a word to him since his lack-lustre enthusiasm in Mrs. Avery’s sitting room. “I’ve got this. You can go with Charlie into Penzance.”
Charlie didn’t hear (or maybe he did), because he pulled off right then with a wave and grin.
“I said I’d help,” Flynn muttered. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Through the gate, they found themselves in a walled garden. It looked like a tiny, enchanted orchard with miniature plum trees, sculptured apple and cherry blossoms and, in the middle of it all, a proper little well with a hat of straw and a rotted pail coiled up on a rusty chain.
The front door was opened by the butler (the butler!) and not only was he expecting them, but he greeted them by name—Master Heath and Miss Bridleton. They were admitted into a huge entrance hall, plush rugs thrown carelessly over slabs of stone floor. Oversized clay pots dotted one wall, each one vividly painted in a scene, as if telling a story along the wall. They were hurried past all that, though, up two flights of steps, and delivered onto the threshold of a large room on the third floor.
“Your guests have arrived, Master Forgue,” the butler announced, then slipped away quietly.
Jason Forgue was a long-faced boy with light brown hair cut into a neat square around his face. The rest of him was submerged in the squishy folds of a lime green beanbag. His eyes remained glued to a monster flat screen television mounted on the wall, a set of headphones looped around the back of his head.
Well, thought Flynn, this isn’t awkward. He stepped further into the room, drawn to the action packed game going on. It wasn’t one he knew, but Jason’s character packed a heavy-duty semi-automatic that was doing some serious damage.
Ice took that as her cue, edging her way partly in front of the television. “Jason? Hi.”
He finally dragged his gaze from the screen to give them each a look. “Listen, you don’t want this play-date anymore than me.” He reached over the far side of the beanbag. “Let’s kill half an hour and everyone’ll think we did our best, yeah?” He turned back, tossing two controllers at them.
Flynn caught the one. The other went skidding over the hardwood floor and bounced up against the skirting board. Ice hadn’t even made a grab for it.
“Or we could chat,” Ice said. “Then we needn’t lie and who knows? We might just get on famously. I’m Icilia, and that’s Flynn.”
She sent a glare Flynn’s way, where he was settling into the canary yellow beanbag next to Jason.
“What?” Flynn met her glare. “I can do two things at the same time.”
Ice inserted herself between them and the screen.
“Do you mind?” grumbled Jason.
“Yes, actually I do,” Ice said to him. “Are you always this rude?”
“No, actually I’m not,” Jason mimicked. He threw his controller down. “I didn’t invite you here. I didn’t want you to come. I told my mom, a hundred times, that she was wasting everyone’s time. I’m sorry, none of this is probably your fault, but you shouldn’t have come. I have absolutely no interest in anything you have to say.”
“That’s okay,” Ice said reasonably. “We won’t say anything, then. We’ll listen.”
Jason looked to Flynn for support, but Flynn had to admit, he was rather curious. “Why are you so set against pledging?”
It took a bit more cajoling and prodding to get Jason to talk, but once he’d started, he became really passionate about the subject. Turns out, Jason was a demon lover.
Ice wasn’t amused. “You’re having us on.”
Even Flynn found that hard to swallow. Who in their right mind would feel sorry for a demon?
Jason shook his head. “I’m not saying there aren’t some bad apples—”
“Some bad apples!” Ice exploded. “I thought the problem was that you knew too much, but clearly you don’t have a clue. If you knew of the atrocities they’re responsible for, the mass slaughter, the aimless cruelty—”
“They have a bad rep,” he conceded, “but humans have done some terrible things over the course of history, as well. We’re not automatically judged and condemned for the actions of our ancestors, are we?”
“Demons are immortal,” snapped Ice. “We’re not blaming them for what their ancestors did. We’re blaming them for what they did, and still are doing, over and over—”
“Hey,” Flynn cut in gently, struggling out of the beanbag and to his feet. He didn’t get a chance to ask if she was okay, which she wasn’t, she was taking Jason’s attitude like a personal affront and he thought he knew why.
But Jason had already gone on with, “New demons are being created all the time.”
And Ice was all over that. “And they’re flushed through with the same vein of evil.”
“They deserve a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
“At not being mindlessly slaughtered on sight,” Jason said firmly. “We’ve supposedly evolved, yeah? We don’t just assume and execute.”
Ice blew out a huffed breath. “You think they should be put on trial?”
“Why not?” challenged Jason. “That’d be better than killing them with less thought you’d give to an ant before you stepped on it. The way they’re treated… It’s inhumane.”
“They aren’t human!”
“Some of them were, before—”
“Whatever they were before is gone—” Ice snapped her fingers “—along with their soul, mortality, any shred of conscience or decency—”
“And there we go!” Jason threw his arms out and fell back on the beanbag. “Quoting stereotypes. Keep telling yourself that, and keep treating demons worse than animals—”
“You are mental.”
Flynn had to agree with Ice. He didn’t need the history or the facts or the personal experience to know that demons were intrinsically evil. He’d taken one look at that Shadow demon and felt it all the way into his bones. Even stuck there, in its Demon Trap… The idea leapt out at him. It was a rather brilliant idea, if he wanted to do this. He looked at the other two.
Ice was white-lipped, but worse, there was a sheen in her eyes that had nothing to do with fury. Jason was sprawled over the beanbag, totally at ease with himself and his arguments. He wasn’t going to budge, and Ice wasn’t going to hold it together much longer.
Flynn made the decision and went down on his haunches to Jason’s level. “We have a demon at school, you know, a prisoner. It’s a sad sight, really.” He shook his head ruefully. “Trapped in a horribly small space, can’t walk more than three steps in any direction, and the teachers have it trained to perform tricks like a monkey.”
“That’s exactly the sort of thing I refuse to be a part of,” Jason declared.
“Although there’s not much you can do about the poor Shadow demon here, you know.” Flynn shook his head again, ignoring Ice’s sharp intake of breath. “Not about anything, really. Slayer circles are seriously tight. You should see the security at Victor Grey and I’m sure the SSS is worse—”
“The SSS…S is worse,” Ice corrected crossly.
“Precisely,” Flynn agreed.
Ice shot him a very nasty scowl.
Flynn hastily continued, “You’ll never be able to help unless you’re on the inside and, like you said, slayers don’t think anything needs to be done about it.”
“That’s because nothing needs to be done!” Ice had reached boiling point. Intercepting the See what I mean? look Flynn gave Jason didn’t improve matters.
“You know what?” she flung at Jason. “You can rot in the safety of your room until you die. Or you can die trying to be a demon’s best friend. I don’t care. I don’t even want you at Atreus House anymore.”
On that, she stormed out the room.
“Sorry, gotta go,” Flynn said with a shrug. “Nice meeting you,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried after Ice.
She was halfway across the entrance hall when he caught up to her. They let themselves out, much to the horror of the butler, who appeared out of nowhere and came at them in a speed-walk that left Flynn with the startling impression of a flustered penguin.
Flynn grabbed Ice’s arm as they sliced a path through the miniature orchard. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t you dare talk to me.” Ice ripped her arm free. “I can’t believe you were happy to park off and play X-Box.”
“I wasn’t,” Flynn protested. It was only a small lie. “I was just trying to bond with him… Gain his trust.”
Ice wasn’t listening. The gate buzzed as they reached it and she yanked it open, marching through ahead of him. “And I can’t believe you agreed with him. Flynn, you have no idea—”
“Probably not.” He turned, giving a small wave to the butler before pulling the gate closed behind them. The man didn’t wave back. “But I didn’t side with Jason. We needed him to take his pledge, right? Well, he can’t get inside Victor Grey unless he pledges. All I did was throw down some bait… Hopefully he bites.”
“That’s still no— Oh!” Ice blinked, long and slow. “That’s like…” A smile touched her lips. “That’s pretty awesome.”
“Brilliant, yeah?” Flynn grinned, then grew serious again. “Ice, I know how hard that must have been for you. I know your mom was killed by a demon. Jack told me.”
“Yeah.” Her grin faded. “My mom had gone up to London to visit her brother. She wasn’t even a slayer, you know?”
Flynn nodded. They were walking down the cobbled road at a snail’s pace, heading back along the way they’d come.
“She was found dead in Kensington Gardens. The inside of her organs were crusted over with broken blisters…” Ice swallowed hard. She wasn’t looking at him. “The doctors decided it must be some sort of tropical virus. My mother had never been anywhere tropical in her life! That’s what they do, you know… Blisterback demons… I found a book about them in the library. They spit inside your ear and you’re paralysed within seconds. You can’t even scream while they feed on— No, it’s not even feeding. They don’t suck your organs dry for food, it’s like happy juice for them. When my dad hunted the demon down the next afternoon, he found it still wandering about in Kensington Gardens, dazed and dilly from the high.”
“Ice, I’m sorry.” Flynn didn’t have any other words. He wasn’t looking at her either, wanted to give her some space (if her eyes wanted to sheen over again or something), so his gaze strayed to the other side of the road and now, as they were passing the Post Office, something really strange was happening to him.
“I don’t know if it’s better or worse, never really having known my mom.”
“Ice…” When Flynn turned to her, she had her phone pressed to her ear.
“I’ll let Charlie know we’ve started walking and he must look out for us along the road.”
“Yeah, fine, but…” Flynn glanced back across the road. “Is it me, or is that man, the one standing in front of the Post Office, flickering…?”
Ice looked that way. “It can’t be.”
“It’s my eyes, right?”
“No, he is…” Her fingers closed over his wrist like a manacle. She picked up the pace, dragging him along. Her eyes were still trained across the street. “I’ve read about it, but I must be wrong,” she said in a low, urgent voice. “I have to be.”
“Wrong about what?”
“That looks like…” Her eyes flashed to him. “Demon static. Charlie! Thank goodness. Listen, I think…”
There was a pause. Then, “This is going to sound stupid, but we are in the dead zone, aren’t we?”
Another pause. “There’s a man here, and it looks like there’s white-blue energy flickering over his face… “What? Yes, of course… ”
Demon static? Flynn snuck another nervous look. His heart jolted. Where did he go? His gaze snapped all the way around.
“But how is…?” Ice was saying. “No…”
“We’d have to walk straight past him again.”
“But where…?”
“Just be quick!”
“He’s crossed the road,” Flynn hissed. “He’s right behind us.”
“Run!” Ice whisper-yelped.
Flynn didn’t need to be told twice. They sprinted flat-out, but they were approaching the end of the walled dip and after that the road stretched long and open, nowhere to hide! Flynn’s gaze flew over his shoulder. The man was about twenty yards behind them and closing in. He’d started running, too.
Ice had also seen. “He’s chasing us!”
“This way.” Flynn yanked Ice left, through an archway. It wasn’t one of the alleys he’d seen earlier. Just three flights of steep, stone steps, bordered by the high walls on either side…no doors to knock on, and then the steps ended but the walls didn’t. They were trapped in a walled square.
