Demonica

by Preston Norton

  “There are only two things I don’t know,” I said. “First: I don’t know how you did it—how you knew how to summon a fucking Demon. I mean, Christ, Casey!”

  If there was any question as to whether Casey could feel any less comfortable in his injured state, it was gone now. The look on his face was the personification of panic and torment and ohhhhhh shit.

  “Second: I know that Dante told you how to find that monster, and how to kill it. What I don’t know is what you were supposed to do for him in return.”

  Casey swallowed. He was breathing through clenched teeth. A tear welled up in one eye and trickled down his cheek. And then he cracked. Tears erupted, and he cried and he cried and he cried and Jesus, I hadn’t seen him cry like this since he first learned of Cate’s death. His entire body was an earthquake of trembling human emotion.

  “This is all his fault,” said Casey.

  “Who’s fault?”

  “That…monster.” He spoke each word through gritted teeth. He blinking the moisture from his eyes. “He was supposed to die. That’s all I wanted. None of this was ever supposed to happen.”

  My tenacity faltered. And then it was gone entirely. It suddenly wasn’t about the secrets anymore. My brother was grieving. He had been for the past two months. He was feeling a pain that I had never experienced before, and here I was, villainizing him.

  “I’m sure you’ll heal fast,” I said. It all I could think to say.

  “I don’t care about healing. Fuck healing! This isn’t about me. It’s about Cate. It’s always been about Cate.”

  Casey’s face darkened. Almost like he wasn’t my brother anymore. He was this…creature. This thing that was hate and despair and rage and everything that was wrong with the world.

  “I don’t want to just kill that monster,” said Casey. “I want to make it suffer. I want to rip it to pieces, just like it did to Cate. I want to make that thing wish it was never born.”

  And then Casey’s eyes changed.

  Literally.

  Color spilled across his irises. They pulsed, filling with electric yellow. The shape of his pupils elongated vertically. Like the eyes of an animal.

  He screamed.

  12

  The Demon on the Ceiling

  I jumped, backing myself against the wall.

  Casey’s outcry became this long and painful thing, this howl, this monstrous sound that should never come from a human being. The cardiac monitor screamed in unison and went completely berserk. The green line monitoring his pulse zigzagged like it was measuring an earthquake. And then the machine erupted in sparks and smoke.

  Casey’s strange yellow eyes glazed over. He started convulsing. Both arms thrashed out, and his IV needle whipped free. The hospital bed jolted beneath him.

  And then he bolted upright.

  His rigid, slightly contorted body twisted towards me. His head cocked sideways. Those deadly yellow eyes were glaring directly into mine. He snarled—a low, steady growl. Trails of white foam spilled out from between his teeth.

  Shit.

  Just when I thought he might leap out of his hospital bed, he jerked his head back and howled again, this epitomized sound of agony. He wrenched back into in his bed. His neck and limbs twisted. His bones cracked and shifted.

  All at once, two male nurses rushed into the room behind me. One gently pushed me aside. A needle flashed in the latex-gloved hand of the other. Together, they grabbed Casey. They held him down and pumped the syringe into his vein. Casey thrashed only a few seconds longer. The sedative kicked in. Casey became still on the bed.

  The cardiac monitor, however, did not continue its usual beeping. The system was completely barbecued.

  A doctor—this tall, lanky man with concaving eyebrows—rushed in only a few short seconds later. He hastily corresponded with the two nurses, glancing occasionally at the clipboard in his hand. I didn’t understand a word he was saying. I was detached—floating in some empty space between reality and the nightmare I couldn’t seem to wake from. It wasn’t until the doctor began examining Casey’s flesh that I realized the cause of his bewilderment. He ran a curious finger across my brother’s skin.

  The cuts and bruises were all gone. Casey was completely healed.

  ***

  None of the doctors or hospital employees felt the need to interrogate me. Like, I’m just some goddamn ginger. What the hell do I know? And for that, I was grateful. They merely informed me that everything would be just fine. They made no mention of his miraculous instant healing.

  I left the hospital feeling slightly woozy.

  I entered the open-walled parking garage. A breeze whisked through my hair, blowing red strands in my face. I gently ran my hand through, tucking my rogue hair behind my ear. Aside from the soft patter of my footsteps and the gentle howl of the breeze, the silence was untainted. I hit the unlock button on my mom’s key clicker. The car gave two chirps and flashed its headlights.

  The tranquility was shattered in an instant. Tires screeched from the first floor of the garage, accompanied by the fierce roar of an engine. I froze. A sleek black sedan squealed around the corner and into sight. It immediately homed in on the first available parking spot. The engine died. Two men in suits exited the car. One had a cell phone to his ear.

  “…and the doctor reported activity with Specimen 14,” said the man. His voice echoed through the parking garage. “Yes, he tested positive. We’ll find out soon. Yes sir, I believe a quarantine of Area 6 will be imperative.”

  The other man in the black suit had touched the elevator button. It lit up responded with a friendly ding! The two men vanished behind the sliding elevator doors.

  Once again, I stood alone in the parking garage. The silence was suddenly very unfriendly. I hastily climbed into my mom’s car and drove the hell outta there.

  Several minutes later, I was glad to finally have the hospital behind me.

  “Well, that was intriguing,” said Dante.

  I screamed and accidentally swerved halfway into the other lane. Dante materialized in the passenger seat in a swirl of black mist. I overcorrected the steering wheel, tires squealing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed. I finally centered myself in the correct lane. Thank god there were no vehicles in the surrounding lanes.

  “Are you insane?” I shrieked. “You almost got me killed!”

  “Me?” said Dante. He pretended to sound hurt. “What about your brother? He just about ate your face off, and you didn’t accuse him of attempted cannibalism. Well…hmm. Do you think it’s still cannibalism if he’s only half-human?”

  How did it not surprise me that Dante had been spying on me this entire time? Readjusting my grip on the steering wheel, I took a deep breath. “Is that what you think is ‘intriguing?’” The venom was boiling on my tongue.

  “Well, that or those government agents talking about a quarantine,” said Dante, shrugging. “Either way, it feels like a rousing episode of X-Files. It’s times like these that I ask myself: WWSAMD?”

  “Huh?”

  “What would Skully and Mulder do?”

  For a Demon, Dante’s familiarity with pop culture was a bit mind-numbing. I shook my head, forcing myself to stay focused. “What do you think those guys were talking about?”

  “Well, it obviously has something to do with the death toll that they’re keeping secret. If they’re bringing Casey into it, there’s probably a strong chance they think he’s carrying something contagious.”

  “Is he contagious?” I asked.

  “Technically,” said Dante. “But not in the traditional sense.”

  I wanted to ask what he meant, but I had a feeling that I already knew. The way he howled and snarled, those animal-like yellow eyes… I knew I had seen eyes like those before.

  “Does this have anything to do with Amon being a werewolf?”
/>   Dante smirked. “You’re a smart girl, Monica. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know.”

  My sinking stomach collapsed into a pit. “So…full moons?”

  “Full moons only enhance a werewolf’s power,” said Dante. “The actual transformation is based on anger. Casey nearly transformed just now because he was fueling it with his hatred for Amon.”

  “Is there any way to heal him?”

  “Heal him? Monica, he’s the last thing we need to be worrying about right now. As a werewolf, his body repairs itself a hundred times faster than any normal human. He’s probably the safest person in Villeneuve. As long as he keeps his anger in check, there’s nothing to worry about. And his anger really shouldn’t be a problem as long as the doctors keep him doped up on happy sauce.”

  I slumped back in my seat, overwhelmed by everything. My brother was now a werewolf, government agents were planning some sort of quarantine, and I had a Demon to kill tomorrow night. And then there was Zoey, her goddamn curiosity putting her right in the center of danger.

  Zoey, who—according to Dante—was not quite human.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  Dante tilted his head. “Do what?”

  I jerked the steering wheel sideways. The car lurched across the adjacent lane. Tires squealed to a halt. We were in a gas station parking lot. My vice grip on the steering wheel released. I dropped my fists in my lap.

  “I’ll kiss you.”

  Dante started to chuckle, but I raised an adamant finger in his face.

  “I’m only doing this for convenience, okay?” I said. “It’ll get Zoey out of our way, and I won’t look like I’m crazy trying to talk to you while you’re invisible to everyone. That’s all. Now let’s just get this over with.

  With my head turned to him, I closed my eyes and pursed my lips tight like some little kid preparing for a shot.

  Dante just laughed. “Sorry, Monica. I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”

  My eyes popped open. “What? Why not?”

  “Any demon could just go around kissing whoever or whatever they wanted. It wouldn’t mean anything. In order for this Deal to work, the human has to kiss the demon.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Afraid not, sweetheart. So hit me with your best shot.” Dante mimicked my earlier expression, tight-lipped and eyes closed, but with a slightly more sour-faced, puckering look.

  I couldn’t help laughing. Dante snickered, losing the absurd face. As our laughter died, Dante waited patiently. His blue eyes stared into mine.

  Though part of me wanted to just get this over with a quick, meaningless peck, the other part worried that it might not count. And then I’d have to do it all over again. I wanted to make sure the Deal was fulfilled on the first try. No re-tries. No do-overs. There was no reason to make this awkward. It was just a kiss. Hell. Not even that. It was strictly business.

  I lifted my hand to his face, touching his skin with my palm. My fingers were in his hair. I leaned forward, eyes closed.

  Our lips touched gently. They interlocked.

  His breath was cool—like the kind of frosty breeze that makes you want to stand in one place, arms outstretched and eyes closed to relish it. Which I did. I absorbed it. Just as my lips absorbed his, and my fingertips absorbed his strong jaw line and cheek bone. I found myself breathing him in.

  Until I realized what I was doing. This “strictly business” kiss had lasted just a little too long.

  But for whatever reason, I could not break away fast. Instead, our lips parted slowly. His cool breath and masculine scent lingered.

  I opened my eyes just as Dante opened his. Those blue eyes were a wild mixture of ‘Holy shit!’ and ‘Uhhhhhhhh…’ I had no clue what my expression looked like, but it was probably not far off from that.

  Dante brought his fist to his mouth and coughed awkwardly. “Alright. Well. Uh. Tomorrow is going to be a long night. You should probably go home and get some sleep.”

  Vacantly, I nodded back. “Yeah.”

  With that, Dante vanished from my passenger seat. Even as the wispy black mist dissipated, his cool scent remained.

  ***

  I couldn’t sleep. I kept shifting and rolling and turning in bed, and my mind was spinning endlessly. Why?

  Why couldn’t I stop thinking about Dante?

  I had never been attracted to “bad boys”. Just the idea was stupid to me. Sure, things were fun and exciting at first. But it was only a matter of time before things turned to shit. They always do. Because DUH! He’s a bad boy. Christ! That’s what bad boys do! They look for the very same fun and excitement until they get bored or abusive. Whichever comes first. It’s an age old story that every girl knows but she never wants to admit. Especially when she thinks she’s in love. It’s the kind of bullshit idealism that makes me wanna puke in my mouth. Seriously, girls. Stop making the rest of us look so fucking gullible and stupid.

  Then again…Dante didn’t really fit the typical bad boy role. Yes, he was a Demon. And Demons have been deemed evil since…well…always. But aside from that, what else did he have going against him? Sarcasm? A slightly twisted sense of humor? Aside from the obvious quirks, he had been nothing but helpful to me.

  So what was he?

  I kept thinking that I saved Casey. In reality, Dante had saved us both. He stopped the werewolf Demon mere seconds before I was about to be puppy chow. It was as if he had been watching. Waiting for the right moment.

  When Dante proposed the kissing Deal, I hastily dismissed it. He had disappeared. Or so I thought. Really, he had been spying on me in Casey’s hospital room as well as in the parking garage. Did he ever really disappear? Was it possible that he had followed me the entire time? An invisible pair of eyes?

  My eyes wandered across my seemingly empty room. That scent. Dante’s scent.

  It was still there

  “Dante?” I said. Soft. Uncomfortably hopeful. Digging for confidence, I raised my voice several notches. “Dante, I know you’re there.”

  There was nothing. Silence. At least for several long seconds. Finally, something shifted on my ceiling. Color and depth spilled over the whiteness. Dante appeared, lying flat against the surface with his hands behind his head. He was suspended directly over me, eye-to-eye.

  “You rang?”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “You asked for me, and I’m here,” said Dante. “What do you want?”

  I held my tongue for a few seconds, allowing my thoughts to process. I wasn’t going to get anywhere just asking questions.

  “You’ve been here all night,” I said, mostly to myself. “You’re watching me, aren’t you?”

  It wasn’t really a question. It wasn’t an accusation either.

  “You’re…protecting me.”

  Though my words were mostly hushed, Dante’s hard expression eroded into something I couldn’t describe. This calm curiosity. This serene assurance. There were so many emotions beneath the placid surface of his eyes.

  “Amon…and the other Demons,” I said. “They know who I am.”

  Dante’s cool blue eyes studied me.

  “They all know who I am. They know where I live.”

  Dante was silent. Solemn. Finally, he nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Dante raised a cynical eyebrow. “For what?”

  “Everything.” My voice was a sleepy mumble now. “Thank you for saving Casey and me.”

  Though his face was darkened in the shadows, his half-smile was unmistakable. “You’re welcome.”

  My insomnia washed away. I drifted to sleep, lost in the lulling scent of a Demon.

  13

  The Hostage at Hexham Manor

  Saturday passed by way too fast. No matter what I did to occupy time, my mind lingered on th
e fact that I had to fight Amon tonight.

  I had to kill him.

  With my brain in its current mindfuck state, homework was out of the question. All of the so-called “relaxing” activities of my usual Saturdays—reading on the hammock out back, watching TV, taking a warm bath—were nerve-racking and pointless. I could not just sit and hope that my brain would unwind.

  So instead, Dante and I took another trip to the forest. We dueled like my life depended on it. Because…well…yeah.

  Apparently, Dante went easy on me yesterday. Because now, his speed, agility, and strength were all suddenly running on hyperdrive. I was able to keep up. But just barely. I was losing half of these battles.

  Dante slipped behind me, gripping my head between his arms in a way where he could easily snap my neck. “You’re dead.”

  He released me.

  “Faster, Monica. Don’t let me out of your sight.”

  The score was Monica: 3, Dante: 4. The ball was in my court.

  Earlier that morning, I slipped my mom’s biggest knife out of the kitchen. It was the only way I could think to avoid another Demon Dagger mishap. Dante didn’t even flinch at the sight of the twelve-inch stainless carbon steel chef’s knife. The blade gleamed as I shifted it in my palm.

  I launched myself at him. The blade flashed as I lunged. Dante danced around me. His fist missed my face by an inch. I was too preoccupied to notice his foot. He kicked my legs out from under me. As I fell, I stabbed upward. Before he could finish me off on the ground, my knife was planted in his chest.

  “Good job,” said Dante. He winced humorously. With a grunt, he pulled the knife out. The wound in his chest sealed instantly. “You ready for tonight?”

  “Nope,” I said. “You?”

  “With Amon preparing a special surprise for me? I’m ecstatic.”

  ***

  I told my parents I would be going to a party with Zoey tonight. Which was true. Sort of. I merely left out the fact that my ride was my fake Demon boyfriend and that we were teleporting directly to Hexham Manor. I was pretty sure the Hexham murders and Hell House legend started in their generation, so leaving out the particular location of the party was somewhat crucial. Otherwise I might as well have told them I was bringing a Ouija board over to a Satanist gathering to commune with the Dark Lord and sacrifice some virgins. Kickin’ it old school, bitches.