Demonica

by Preston Norton

  I glanced breathlessly from my feet to Dante’s shoulder to his twisted smirk. What just happened? I knew for a fact that I’d never been that coordinated my entire life.

  “How did I do that?” I said.

  “Your abilities are triggered by Demon energy. Think of it as a chemical reaction. Powerful reactions are usually the culminating result of several harmless chemicals. Likewise, certain dangerous combinations are more powerful than others. Some are even explosive.”

  Oh.

  Dante’s face became solemn. “Now I want you to think about Casey.”

  “Huh?” This comment caught me off guard. I loosened my stance.

  “Think about what Amon did to him,” said Dante. “Think about what he did to Cate. Think about the thirteen people that have been murdered because of those Demons.”

  I felt nauseous. The recent memory of Casey lying in a pool of his own blood. The stories of Cate being ripped to pieces.

  “Those Demons still want Casey dead,” said Dante. “Are you going to let that happen?”

  No.

  “Are you going to let Casey die all because you were too weak to save him?” said Dante. “Then attack me!”

  A surge of pent-up emotion, adrenaline, and instinct all converged together in an orgasm of kickass. It jolted through every molecule of my body. My feet flew. Charging Dante, I felt like I was running across water. Flying even. My arms were taut behind me as I ran. They curled tight into fists as I met Dante. I swung the stick as a decoy with my right hand, leading him into my left uppercut. Dante spotted it a split-second early; he flung his upper body back. But just barely. Despite the save, there was definite shock in his gaze.

  With momentum already on his side, he launched into a back handspring. In the process, he directed a blind kick at my face. All too easy to dodge. I charged, stick now gripped in both hands. It trailed along the ground behind me like a samurai blade. I swung up, countered desperately by Dante’s forearm.

  The instant they made contact, my stick shattered into splinters.

  Somehow, I had anticipated this because I was already kicking up with my knee. Dante stepped back once, twice, a third time as I swung consecutive fists. Just as he had gained enough leeway to counterattack, he reared back. Instead, he bumped into the tree I had carefully led him into. His focus was distracted for only the briefest second before metal sang sharply into the air between us. Dante glanced down at the Demon Dagger I held at his throat.

  I was breathing ravenously through my teeth. It was several long seconds before my brain fully registered the weapon clenched furiously in my fists—Dante positioned precariously between perfect health and fucked. My hardened expression melted. I gasped and stumbled back. My fingers went limp. The Demon Dagger fell to the dirt.

  The silence was an eternity. What just happened? It felt like my mind was lost during those few furious seconds. I remembered every immaculate detail, but…I wasn’t myself. It was as if some monster within me had taken charge without me even realizing it.

  The scariest part of all was how exciting it was. My heart was heart was beating so fast, begging, pleading for more.

  Dante still hadn’t budged from his cornered spot at the tree. Though I think it would be a stretch to say there was fear in his eyes, there was most certainly wide-eyed astonishment. He finally dared to move, and his slack-jawed expression curled into a smile.

  “I think you’re ready,” he said, breathless. “Now…why don’t you tell me about your day at school?”

  11

  Questioning Casey

  I told Dante everything.

  After whisking us back to my bedroom, I proceeded into a psycho-rant about my entire day. It was pointless studying Dante’s facial expressions. I retold my encounter with Amon. His face was this calm, impenetrable block of “Okay, keep talking,” so I did. I talked, and I talked, and I talked, and I suppose this was better than him freaking out like I was, but like, blink, or something, would ya? Christ. When I mentioned that the party was happening at Hexham Manor, however, that one detail sparked something in Dante’s deep blue gaze. I don’t know what, but hell, it was something.

  When I moved on to my encounter with Bill, however, he seemed skeptical.

  “The gothic stoner kid is your big Demon suspect?” he said. There was no hiding his cynicism.

  “You didn’t see the way he was staring at me. And the way he pretended to slit his throat with his finger? And then smiled. It was weird. Don’t tell me it’s not weird.”

  “I’m not telling you anything. All I’m saying is that it’s a bit stereotypical to assume the death metal kid is a Demon. Most Demons are intelligent enough to blend in with society and not draw attention to themselves.”

  I clenched my jaw. Yes, I could see the sense in Dante’s argument. But he wasn’t there. He didn’t see what I saw. It was impossible to put into words the eerie feeling Bill left with me. But that was a problem for another day. Presently, we had bigger problem. Amon’s party at Hexham Manor was roughly twenty-four hours from now. I was still bothered by Dante’s subtle reaction when I mentioned the Hell House.

  “Is Hexham Manor haunted?” I asked.

  Dante raised a surprised eyebrow. “Where’d that come from?”

  “I dunno. You just seemed weird when I mentioned that place. So…is it?”

  He shook his head. His lips were pressed in a straight line. “It’s just a house.”

  This time, I was the one to eye him skeptically. “You aren’t acting like it’s just a house.”

  “Oh yeah? What am I acting like?”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Something evil happened there!” Dante snapped.

  Whoa. Okay. Progress.

  “What?” I said.

  “When something that evil happens, it leaves a scar. But scars can’t hurt anybody, so there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not hiding anything. Okay?”

  I blinked. I barely knew Dante, but I knew enough to know how uncharacteristic this defensive reaction was. Why would Dante be so bothered by something that was “evil”? He was a Demon, wasn’t he?

  “Okay,” I said.

  Dante exhaled through his nose. His lips were still pinched tight. “Sorry. I’m just a little on edge. I wasn’t expecting the Demons to confront us like this.”

  “That makes two of us. So what’s the plan? Amon is obviously setting a trap for us.”

  “Obviously. There’s not much we can do given the situation. We can only proceed with caution. But I’ll be with you every step of the way. If Amon really is setting a trap for you, I should be able to sense it.”

  “But he’s setting a trap for you. He’s said he’s planning something special for you, and I’m pretty sure it’s not a surprise birthday party.”

  “Oh, come on. What can he do to me?”

  “Stop the tough guy routine . These Demons set up a barrier around the school that you can’t cross, didn’t they?”

  “Okay, one thing,” said Dante. He shrugged my observation aside.

  “And you’re apparently allergic to my best friend for whatever reason.”

  Shit. Zoey. She was still expecting to find my “boyfriend” at this party. And worse still, she planned to ask Amon about it.

  “Yeah, that whole thing with your friend still bothers me. Something’s up with her, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Yeah. Um. Speaking of Zoey…”

  “Oh god. What now?”

  I fidgeted with my hands. “Well…when Amon told me that he had a surprise for you, he referred to you as…my boyfriend.”

  Dante’s expression did not change. Silently, he emanated even more confusion.

  “Zoey was there,�
� I said. “And she plans on interrogating Amon to find out who my new boyfriend is.”

  “Hrmph,” said Dante. “That is a problem. You’re best friend sure is a pain in the ass.”

  I didn’t even bother to disagree. Zoey was just creating one more difficulty that I didn’t want to deal with. And if I didn’t deal with it, Zoey could very well get herself killed.

  “However,” said Dante, almost too optimistically, “there is an easy solution to this.”

  “Great. What?”

  “You could always just come to the party with a boyfriend named Dante.”

  “Oh, brilliant. And where am I going to find one of those?”

  “Well. I’m a Dante. I seem to fit the job description.

  “Oh. Sure. Awesome. But. Um….one problem. YOU’RE INVISIBLE TO EVERYONE BUT ME AND THE FUCKING DEMONS. But hey, technicalities, right? That’ll definitely fix our Zoey problem just swell. I’m gonna go watch Netflix now.”

  I didn’t know what Dante was getting at here, but if he was trying to annoy me, he was doing a good job of it.

  “I’m invisible to everyone currently,” said Dante. “But I can change that.”

  “Wait. You mean…?”

  “It’s all in the Demon’s Code of Dealmaking. C’mon, we’ve already been over this. I’m the master of Deals. Normally, the task of making a Demon fully visible and tangible to everyone without possession is extremely difficult—mostly because of a single ingredient. But in our case, it’s simple because we already have that ingredient. You.”

  “Me?”

  Dante’s next words were slow and precise, his expression once again unreadable. “In order for a Demon to be visible and tangible to everyone in its true form, that Demon has to be kissed by a human.”

  “WHAT?”

  “You can imagine how tricky that might be in any other circumstance. Hell, why most Demons revert to possession instead. In essence, the only way this is possible is if a Demon Slayer is involved. Only a Slayer can summon a Demon Dagger, and that is the only tool that will allow a Demon to mix blood with a human. Mixing blood is the only way for a Demon to become tangible without possession, and without being tangible, you can’t really kiss. It’s an intricate balance, as you can see.”

  Most of Dante’s words didn’t sink in. I was still hung up on the word “kiss” which had suddenly become the Biggest Word in the Universe, and its presence swelled inside of me, ripping open my cerebral cortex, but I still wasn’t dead because it was expanding into my throat and choking me and fuck. Just fuck.

  “And hey, then you don’t have to look like your schizophrenic every time you talk to me in public,” said Dante as a cheeky afterthought.

  “No,” I said. Perhaps a little too harshly. “I am not kissing you.”

  Dante reared his head back and raised his palms defensively. “Hey, I’m just telling you an easy solution to the problem. Zoey’s your friend, not mine. I don’t care if she gets in the way, and Amon eats her.”

  I clenched my mouth shut. As much as I hated to admit it, Dante’s half-baked solution really was the best one—as far as I could see, at least. But spitting those words out of my mouth was like regurgitating shards of glass.

  “Okay, well I’m going to go now,” he said. He sighed, breaking eye contact. Though his face was calm, his irritation was noticeable. “Let me know when you’re ready to do something productive.”

  Dante vanished, leaving behind his usual trail of swirling black mist.

  I loathed the fact that I kinda missed him.

  ***

  It was late that evening when Zoey called. I don’t know why I was so surprised. It was Friday after all. This whole Demon ordeal had seriously fucked with my brain. It had only been twenty-four hours, but it felt like a week. I was in somewhat of a daze when Zoey went into hyperactive mode, telling me about the scary movies she rented. And now she needed a fellow wimp to hide under the blanket during all of the scary parts. It would undoubtedly be an overnight marathon.

  Dante’s words. They wouldn’t stop.

  There is something very inhuman about her.

  Maybe she wasn’t a Demon…but was she human? This possibility hadn’t bothered me much eating lunch with her in the school cafeteria. Hell, I halfway confided in her about the Demon threat!

  Okay. Maybe that was a stretch. But still, our joking discussion about Demon possibilities at school was one that I had taken seriously. I had genuinely wanted her opinion.

  But if she wasn’t human…what was she? Why did she have such a negative effect on Dante? Was she dangerous?

  I felt horrible allowing such questions to simmer in my mind. Zoey was my best friend. She had been for as long as I could remember. We’d been neighbors our whole lives. For fuck’s sake, we played Barbies together!

  And then came the scariest thought of all:

  Was she watching me?

  Was the whole best friend thing a show? A tactic so she could keep a close eye on me? If I really was a Demon Slayer…?

  No.

  I shook my head. How could I even consider that? Zoey was my best friend. Period. That’s all. End of story. I wasn’t about to let Dante’s Demon migraines and wild speculations get in the way. We had already agreed since we were little that we would be best friends until the day we died.

  I hated that that day felt sooner rather than later.

  Screw this internal fight to rectify our friendship. Whatever the case was, it still came down to the fact that I just didn’t want to go over. Not tonight. And not just because of Dante’s absurd theory. There was also the “boyfriend” matter. Zoey was bound to pry for every detail of a boyfriend that I didn’t have.

  And then I realized I had the best excuse in the world not to go. Fuck me! I could have slapped myself for not thinking of it earlier. It was so obvious.

  “Aw, Zoey, I’d love to come over, but I already made plans to check up on Casey tonight.”

  Genius! Monica, you clever bitch, you.

  The great thing was that I really did want to visit Casey. I did my best to sound disappointed, but a trace of eagerness might have slipped through. Not that it made any difference. The fact of the matter was that my brother got eaten by a bear (as far as she knew). What can you say to that? Nothing.

  “No prob, babe,” said Zoey. “We’ll shoot for next time.” There was only a hint of disappointment.

  My mom had just returned from her book club. I debated for several minutes whether or not to tell my parents that I was going to the hospital to see Casey. The only problem I foresaw was if they decided to tag along. I had yet to determine the nature of this visit, but I really wanted to interrogate him about the Deal he made with Dante. How he even knew how to make a Deal with a Demon to begin with!

  And then I remembered that my Camry and Casey’s Jeep were still parked at the Saint Salazar Cemetery. That pretty much obliterated my options of going anywhere without parental permission.

  So I asked. Thank god, my parents admitted that they were tired and ready to wind down for the evening. My mom cheerfully donated her car for the cause.

  The drive to the hospital was quiet. This was one of those few occasions when I chose not to turn on the radio. It was just me, my thoughts, and the steering wheel keeping me gripped to reality.

  I finally reached the hospital. The receptionist gave me directions to Casey’s room. I still had no clue what I was going to say to him. He was on the second floor in room B13. I spent every step of the way deliberating a way to break the ice.

  Hey, bro. I see that Demon werewolf didn’t eat you. Speaking of which, where the fuck’d you learn how to make Deals with Demons in the first place?

  I sighed my exasperation as Casey’s room came into sight.

  Silently, I entered. The only sound was the gentle beeping of his cardiac monitor. Casey looked worse th
an I remembered. Like, there was bad. Then there was shit. Then there was shit on a bad day. THEN there was Casey—this fucked up thing that I wanted to hug it and cringe at the same time. It was mostly because of the bruises—these swollen and discolored nebula clouds billowing across his complexion. A string of parallel gashes had been stitched shut, sweeping diagonally across his left cheek and neck. His entire head was cocooned in gauze; the faintest traces of blood showed through on the right side. His left eyelid was this puffy, swollen, greenish thing that almost could have passed as a tennis ball. The rest of his body was similarly mummified in bandages. An IV protruded from his arm.

  My footsteps were soft, but Casey’s eyes fluttered open. He had always been a light sleeper. Apparently whatever meds he was on hadn’t changed a thing. His gaze shifted to me. I halted.

  “Hey,” I said. I gave a half-smile.

  Casey didn’t respond. He didn’t even smile. Then again, it was difficult to read any sort of expression on his deformed face.

  “How’re you feeling?” I asked.

  His mouth finally opened. I could sense pain lingering in his eyes. “You followed me. You saw…everything.”

  I pursed my lips together. Slowly, I nodded. Now that I thought about it, I realized Casey thought he was in this whole mess alone—that I had no clue what was going on. He had no idea. I was deeper in this shit than he ever was.

  “I know about Dante,” I said.

  Casey’s one unbruised eye—the one that wasn’t a tennis ball—widened. His tattered face tensed.

  “He told me everything,” I said. “He told me that you summoned him. That you wanted to make a Deal. He said you wanted to kill the thing that attacked Cate.”

  “Dante…t-t-talked to you?” said Casey. His mouth wavered, as if to say something else, but he couldn’t even seem to exhale properly, let alone form words into sentences and shit.

  He had every right to be confused. But whether Casey was in pain or not, I wasn’t about to let him turn the questions around on me. He was the reason I was in this mess. I saved his life. If he was keeping secrets, the least I deserved was to know the goddamn truth.