Demonica

by Preston Norton

  Plan B came almost instantaneously. Pocketing my phone, I hopped out of the Camry, cupped my hands over my mouth, and screamed, “Casey!”

  I waited. Silence. How long had he been here? My brother was a notorious speeder, but he couldn’t have arrived much earlier than me. Could he?

  I was about to call his name again. Then a new sound in the distance cut me short. Practically inaudible—an echo in the wind. The voice, however, was familiar with the one word it carried: “Monica?”

  He sounded far away—further away than I was comfortable with. Still, it was better than nothing. It sounded like his voice was coming from the opposite end of the cemetery, maybe a quarter of a mile into the woods.

  “Casey!”

  I bolted in that direction. Thick foliage clawed at my bare legs. However, my current frightened adrenaline rush would not allow me to acknowledge pain. Pain? Fuck you, pain. Pain could suck my metaphorical cock. Fear and urgency were the only things that made sense. A steady blanket of moonlight illuminated my immediate path. My wide-eyed gaze shifted momentarily upward. I was greeted by a larger-than-usual full moon—yellow and lucid. Its pale glow demanded attention, but I forced my gaze to the path ahead. The last thing I needed was to trip and fall into a grave-robbed hole in the ground.

  Most of the tombstones shared the same generic tablet shape. A select few others, however, were sculpted to artistic perfection. The one that immediately grabbed my attention was supposed to be an angel with outstretched arms and shielding wings. However, the few centuries that it had spent in Saint Salazar’s had left it darkened in a layer of moss. In this new guise, veiled in the shadows of night, it resembled a demon more than anything sent from heaven.

  Lowering my head, I broke free of the graveyard, plunging into a thick wall of forestation. The brushwood immediately encircling the perimeter was thickest. My hair tangled in the branches. But for only a brief moment.

  FUCK YOU, PAIN!

  I jerked my head and—whether it was the branch or my ginger-ass hair—something sure as shit broke free. Amidst the trees ahead, the landscape swayed and jutted with beautiful but eerie rock formations. Eeriest of all, however, was the layer of fog swishing across the ground ahead. White mist twisted and swirled with living energy. The sight was ripped straight out of a campy horror flick. My legs locked and hesitated.

  I screamed once more, praying to Charles fucking Darwin for a closer response. “Casey!”

  A sound did follow. But not in response to my call. It was a cracking gunshot.

  It was followed by a vicious snarling roar.

  Casey cried out. He sounded even more frightened than me.

  “CASEY!”

  The fog was no longer an issue. Breaking into a full-on sprint, I launched myself forward, slicing through it like The Penis of James Bond through every hoe he ever smiled his British smile at.

  The mist was all but blinding. For a short moment, I felt like I was airborne, soaring through the clouds.

  Or stoned, at least.

  There was that one party that one time where I smoked that one stuff and I was like, Whoa, Tyrannosaurus Rex, who the hell said you could use the kitchen? And suddenly we’re hang gliding in outer space like, Why has nobody ever done this before? And T-Rex is all like like, It’s pretty rad, right?

  Yeah. Never again.

  Goddammit. PULL IT TOGETHER, MONICA! FOCUS!

  The feeling was short lived as the path unleashed its obstacle course. Elongated silhouettes became tree trunks which I was quick to dodge. Dead branches slashed out with hungry claws. Glancing down at my feet was a rather pointless safety precaution considering that everything below my mid-calves was lost in a faded sea of misty white.

  I had never seen fog like this. There was something just a little Stephen Kingish about it. Then again, nothing about this evening really seemed to scream “normal.” The sooner I could have my boring, normal, homework-doing, Netflix-watching everyday life back, the better. Hell, even dating wasn’t as bad as this.

  I hadn’t noticed how cold it was until now. My breath puffed out visibly in front of me. My lungs were blocks of ice in my chest. Each gasping breath I took scathed my insides. The effort was a knife, stabbing through my ribcage.

  Whether I was capable of running further or not, the sight that crept before me stole what little breath I had left.

  It was a final silhouette to diminish all others. It started out as a giant dark mass but then grew to a colossal size. The size intensified when I realized just how far away it still was. The billowing fog was finally beginning to disperse, swirling hypnotically around the clearing. It was as if the mists were a controlled entity, emanating from this very spot.

  Out of the haze emerged magnificent archways twisting and dancing around a structure, solidifying a sturdy rampart. Gargoyles were lined across parapets like foreboding guardians. Nearly a dozen spires pierced up into the atmosphere, slicing through a the deep gray clouds. All around it, the structure was encompassed by a gaping chasm. It was connected only by a narrow bridge of earth at the front gate. Sharp rocks jutted from the seemingly endless depths below.

  The elaborate gothic edifice was unlike anything I had ever witnessed in my entire life. Well, except when I was a little girl watching Beauty and the Beast, of course. Naturally. Why not?

  This was no fucking mansion. I was staring at a castle.

  4

  The Monster

  I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. No, wait. The chef! The chef at Leonardo’s was some psycho-ass sexual predator who spiked girls’ pasta with LSD so he could follow them home and take advantage of them while they were wandering around Narnia tripping on castles and shit. Yeah. Yeah, that was it. It made a helluva lot more sense than some castle sitting in the middle of god-forsaken backwoods Louisiana.

  Yet no matter how many times I blinked, the castle was still there. Encompassed by a sheer drop on nearly all sides and silhouetted in a veil of curling mist. Was I wiggity-wacked? It sure seemed like it. First, the ghost stalker I had seen twice, then some creature I had just heard attack Casey (which sounded more like the T-Rex in the kitchen at that one party that one time when I was tripping on shit balls—WAY more like that—than a black bear )…and now this?

  Casey!

  The urgency of the situation punched me in the face. Whatever was really going on around here, I knew only one thing for sure: My brother was in danger. I heard him scream.

  And it came from the direction of that castle.

  My panic was well beyond reasoning. I dashed to the narrow pass of rock and earth bridging the chasm. My fear of heights got the better of me as I took my first steps onto a ridge only five feet wide. My lungs seized for only a second, and I slowed my run to a cautious walk. I couldn’t help but notice the tips of sharp rocks glistening hundreds of feet below me on either side.

  Once I was nearly across, I broke into a jog again. Racing up the stairs, my gaze was left to gawk up the extent of a lofty arched doorway. And when I say “lofty”, I mean this shit was twenty feet tall. It had hefty bronze knockers the size of Pamela Anderson’s. My hand went to the door handle, pushing the entryway open. Or trying to, at least. Sweet mother of shit! I had to put all my weight into just one door. I might as well have been pushing a goddamn Prius. The hinges finally relented. The door groaned like some great big dying hippopotamus or narwhal or something. Well fuck. Hope I didn’t wake the neighbors. With a nervous gasping breath (like seriously, I could hardly breathe), I slipped through the opening.

  There was not even a hint of electricity in the entry chamber. Not so much as a blown out light bulb. However, every long flowing curtain was pulled back, allowing moonlight to paint colorless marble floor.

  My house could easily fit in the front entryway.

  I slowly delved deeper into the manor. The quiet patter of my footsteps echoed off of distant w
alls. The ceiling was arched, making the chamber appear that much taller. At the far end, two stairways wrapped along the walls, curving up to a sweeping balcony. Between the stairs and beneath the balcony, the castle extended into a seemingly never ending hallway, lost in shadow.

  Distracted by my surroundings, it caught me quite by surprise when my left foot slipped.

  FUCK LIKE FUCKING FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!

  (It wasn’t a question; it was an exclamation—as sincere as they get.)

  I still had traction under the tread of my right shoe, which immediately flew out, along with my hands, for balance. These reflexes were just enough to save me from an embarrassing fall. Not that my spread-eagle jumping jack formation was any less embarrassing, but I was still just a little bit more concerned for my brother.

  This concern hit me full on when I glanced down. Trailing across the marble floor from my left shoe was a streak of dark liquid. Though it appeared nearly black in the dim-lit chamber, a stray finger of moonlight from the nearest window reached out and touched a hint of maroon.

  Blood. Fresh blood.

  My lungs seized. Tilting my head up slightly, I noticed more blood trailing forward. Not much. Just occasional droplets dotting the marble. Together, they formed a path.

  This was not Casey’s blood. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t it couldn’t it just couldn’t! I found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. The trail of blood led somewhere, but I was strangled by the fear of what I might find. All I could see was Casey, crumpled in some obscure corner of the castle, possibly bleeding to death. Maybe he was already—

  No! Like…fucking, just fucking no. I shook that thought, refusing to accept the possibility. Wiping the bloody sole of my shoe against the marble, I stole across the blood-tainted path with renewed urgency. The blood droplets were nearly invisible unless I tilted my head at an angle, catching their crimson gleam in the moonlight. It led up the left flight of stairs. Skipping every other step, I raced to the top.

  I nearly tripped on the top step. My eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, were no longer focused on blood droplets. They were instead focused on a pool of red ten yards away.

  Casey was lying in the middle of it.

  “No…”

  My lungs stopped working. It didn’t matter. I rushed to my brother’s side, fighting my own breathlessness.

  Casey stirred.

  Sweet, merciful Darwin in Science-Heaven! My heart jumped and filled with relief. He was alive. But there was no telling how long that would last considering the amount of blood he had lost. My brother needed a hospital. No matter what, I would get him there. Even if I had to drag him.

  Casey rolled, and his head tilted towards me. Once again, my breath fell short. His face was lacerated in claw marks. The skin was flayed.

  “Monica…” he said—a ragged whisper. His eyes were weary, fighting against the weight of his eyelids.

  And then his eyes flew wide open. He was no longer looking at me. My stomach twisted.

  “Monica…behind…!”

  A harsh growl solidified my dread.

  With my muscles frozen, I could only manage to turn slowly. Something enormous was stirring in the shadows. A pair of big yellow eyes caught the reflection of the candle light.

  5

  Mixing Blood

  The creature’s gaze seared into me. A thick coat of black fur shimmered. Shoulder blades weaved as it lurked forward on four legs. Pointed ears jutted up like demonic horns. The lips of its elongated snout curled up, revealing grimy, yellow teeth and black, rotting gums.

  A wolf. It was some sort of wolf. Only this thing was five times bigger than anything I’d ever seen on TV and looked like it had just crawled right out of hell. Like a Twilight wolf did it with and a Lord of the Rings wolf and that spawn of Satan did it with a chupacabra on steroids and gave birth to this ugly motherfucker.

  Then it spoke.

  “I’ve smelled blood like yours before,” said the wolf. Well, it didn’t say it so much as growled it, but, like, words and shit were coming out. And every word was in impossible synchronization with its jaws.

  I was obviously in a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. The monster took another step forward, and I couldn’t help but notice that its paw was the size of my head.

  “I’ll just have to save your brother for later,” said the wolf. “I’ve waited years for your blood.”

  It lunged.

  What happened next felt like slow-motion. A second figure—this one appearing very much human—seemed to materialize out of the very fabric of the shadows. Stepping between me and the monster, this figure thrust his fist up, clocking the wolf in the face. Against nearly every law of physics, he held his ground. The grizzly-sized wolf flew to the side, crashing into the balcony railing. Though the railing was carved from white stone, a large portion shattered on impact. Both front paws lashed out, claws scraping at the marble floor. It was too late. The wolf plunged to the floor below. The thud resonated in my bones.

  With his back to me, the mysterious figure approached the broken balcony ledge, staring down. I couldn’t help but follow.

  Instead of focusing on my rescuer, my gaze flicked downward. My heart filled with lead. The wolf staggered to its feet. Those yellow eyes, filled with more malice than ever, glared up at us. Every last hair follicle on my neck went rigid. It wasn’t until then that I glanced at the man beside me.

  Jiminy Fucking Cricket.

  It was him. The boy in the suit and tie. The ghost or whatever the hell he was from the restaurant window. He was exactly as I remembered him. Well, minus the tight-lipped smile. Given the situation, I couldn’t blame him.

  The wolf growled, earning my attention.

  “We have to go,” said the boy. Despite the urgency of the situation, his voice was calm.

  The growl grew louder. I could hear its heavy padding up the stairs. My heart pounded harder with each step.

  “Go?” I said. “Where? There’s nowhere to go.” And then came a question that sounded stupid the moment it left my mouth. “Can’t you fight this thing?”

  Like. He punched it, right? So why the hell not?

  The young stranger did not seem to think this was a stupid question. Or at least he was polite and didn’t let me know that my stupidity brought human devolution to a whole new low. “We can’t kill it. Not yet. I can only help you and your brother if we mix blood.”

  He reached to grab my hand. But the moment his finger should have grazed my skin, his hand passed through mine. It felt like a soft breeze.

  “There’s no time to explain,” he said. “Monica, you have the power to summon a special dagger. You can access this power at any time. I need you to do it right now.”

  I normally would have been surprised that he knew my name. But holy hell, my attention was just a little bit distracted by every ridiculous word that followed. Power? Summon? Dagger?

  No sooner did the thought enter, there was a metallic sheeenk! I felt something cool in my grasp. I glanced down. In my right hand was a dagger. Or, at least, it was daggerish. Its handle was black and distorted, almost organic in shape. This extended to a blade that was over a foot long, adorned in a strange line of symbols.

  There comes a breaking point when your brain is like, Fuck this thinking shit. I’m retiring.

  The young stranger did not waste a moment. He swept his hand along the blade in my hand. Instead of passing through, the blade sliced his palm. Black blood seeped from the wound.

  Since my brain was enjoying an early retirement and I was thinking with my ass now, I was like, Oh, neato. Black blood.

  I hesitated for only a second. That is, until the wolf reappeared. It had limped to the top of the stairs, its yellow eyes trained on me. There were a series of cracks with its next step; its skeletal structure was readjusting.

  The limp was
gone.

  I ran my palm on the blade. The sharp, cold sting was nothing compared to the fear stabbing my insides.

  I raised my bloody hand to the stranger’s oozing, black-stained palm. As our hands attempted to touch, the sudden breeze of his ghostlike presence became tangible.

  It was in that very second that he threw me over his shoulder. He seemed to exert all the effort of a small child with a teddy bear. The dagger fell from my grasp.

  I was immediately forced to face the creature that was now charging us. Its black coat shifted and shimmered with bounding leaps, only a split-second away from ripping my face off.

  The very next moment, I suddenly felt like I was hanging off the back of a roller coaster. The stranger bolted with inhuman speed. Though my directional senses were in disarray, I realized he was racing for my brother. I felt his feet leave the floor, lunging. His free hand extending…

  All the while, the wolf was only a step behind. Its warm, rotten breath splashed across my face.

  My entire world suddenly imploded, as if the very fabric of space and time were being flipped inside out. Gravity was spinning out of control.

  The next thing I knew, we were rolling across freshly-trimmed grass. Not only me and the mysterious stranger, but Casey as well. His flannel shirt was still darkened in blood, leaving a trail across the grass. But his chest was still rising and falling; that was what mattered.

  My disoriented gaze shifted up from Casey and across the grass. I only now noticed the pastel-blue two story house towering over us.

  Our house.

  The stranger released me and stood up. He brushed his coat off with a flick of his hand. And then he smiled that familiar tight-lipped smile. He did not appear fazed at all. On the contrary, he was wearing this smug grin like he was the cleverest motherfucker to ever fuck a mother.

  “What was that thing?” I asked. At least I tried. I could hardly breathe. I attempted to sit up and immediately felt the tender pain of a bruise on my thigh.