Demonica

by Preston Norton

  Trying to dress simultaneously for a party and a death match was tricky. I finally settled for short jean cut-offs, a white tank, and Chuck Taylors. Casual was always acceptable if more skin was involved. Unfortunately, I knew I couldn’t get away with no makeup, especially coming to the party with my new “boyfriend”. By the time I was finished with my face, I scoped myself out in my full body mirror. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I looked like I was dead set on getting some action tonight.

  There would definitely be action involved.

  In order to avoid suspicion, I exited through the front door and called goodbye to my parents.

  “Goodbye, sweetie,” said Mom. “Be safe.”

  I shut the door behind me. Dante was already beside me on the porch. He extended an escorting arm.

  “Shall we?”

  I didn’t know where Dante got his wardrobe, but he certainly wore it well. Glancing from the bottom up, he was sporting slip-on canvas shoes, boot-cut jeans, and a fitted flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He looked like a fashion-savvy version of Casey.

  I forced a weak smile and took his arms. “Let’s kill this bastard.”

  Dante smiled and nodded. And then everything became a blur. Gravity went ballistic. Our surroundings swirled with hurricane force. My red hair whipped out like an open fire. My legs nearly buckled as solid ground slammed beneath my feet.

  Dante’s wit was faster than my ability to fix my hair.

  “You look like Pippie Longstocking meets Samara from The Ring.”

  I desperately pushed my hair back with both hands. “Gee, you sure know what to say to a girl.”

  I spent a few more seconds trying to fix the untamed mess on my head before giving up entirely. It was only going to get messed up anyway. The sun had sunk beyond the forest horizon, but a new light glared through the low-hanging branches. It was accompanied by a chorus of teenage voices, blaring music, and a resonating bass.

  We emerged from the thick of the trees. There was easily a hundred or more teens. Some were dancing, others were drinking, and plenty were mixing the two activities together with mixed results. Many were disoriented, laughing hysterically, and bumping into each other. Beer cans littered the scene. I guess Amon had found the easy way to draw teens to a party. If he was worried about getting busted by the police, it certainly didn’t show.

  A bonfire roared amidst the horde of teens. The flames illuminated rows of disorderly parked vehicles. There were roasting spikes for hotdogs and s’mores laid out on a nearby table, along with all the ingredients. They appeared to have been abandoned and for good reason. A few boys were currently taking the liberty of peeing in the fire simultaneously. I couldn’t figure out if they were trying to write their names in cursive or they were having a urine sword fight.

  Boys will be boys. Unfortunately.

  Hexham Manor loomed over everything. The house breathed sinister life, glowing orange against the bonfire. Shadows pulsed in every weathered crevice.

  “Hey, Monica,” said a peppy male voice. A head of curly brown hair surfaced from the crowd. A grin was plastered across his face.

  “Hi, Levi,” I said. “I almost didn’t recognize you without that bazooka you call a camera around your neck.”

  Levi grinned and reached into the pocket of his khakis. He removed a sleek little digital camera. “Never leave home without it.”

  He flashed a brief glance at Dante, who stood a solid foot taller, and returned his gaze to me. “So I heard about Casey.” His smile faded, if only slightly. “Zoey told me. Is he okay?”

  My mind inadvertently flashed to my brother, snarling and foaming at the mouth. I hastily shoved the image away.

  “Yeah, he’s doing great,” I said. “The doctors can’t believe how fast he’s healing.”

  God, why did I even bother with these half-truths?

  I noticed Dante’s impatience; his eyes were practically rolling out of their sockets. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and jumped into introductions. “Dante, this is Levi. He’s on the student council with me. Levi, this is Dante. He’s…my…boyfriend?”

  I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question. I really didn’t.

  “Oh wow, that’s great,” said Levi. He shook Dante’s hand as if he’d just popped The Question. “I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”

  “It’s new.”

  “Huh,” said Levi. He turned back to Dante. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

  “I just moved here,” said Dante. He was wearing a ridiculously fake smile.

  “Oh really? Where’re you from?”

  “Hell.”

  Levi’s smile wavered uncertainly.

  “Michigan,” said Dante.

  Levi chuckled. “That’s awesome. Well welcome to Villeneuve. I’ll give you guys some alone time. Oh, and Monica, tell your brother I said hi.”

  “I will,” I said. I waved as he turned and disappeared into the crowds.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Dante’s face dropped. “I don’t like him.”

  “What? Why not? He’s not a…? He’s not a Demon, is he?”

  “He smiles too much.”

  I rolled my eyes and smacked him in the shoulder.

  “What, you don’t think so?” said Dante. “I swear, put him in clown makeup, dye his hair green, and he’s the goddamn Joker.”

  “He’s a nice guy. Why don’t you focus on not liking Demons instead.”

  “Well he could be a Demon for all I know. Something’s messing with my senses.”

  “Huh?” I said. I bit my lip. “Really? Do you think that’s the surprise Amon was talking about?”

  Dante shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He sounded very unconvinced.

  We casually strolled forward, immersing ourselves in the party. I spotted plenty of faces that I knew. Levi was now talking with Kelly, as in, The Kelly Who Never Stopped Talking. She spotted me and waved excitedly before returning to her conversation. The blonde Hartley twins, Lucy and Lilith, were garnering their own crowds of friends and followers, quite separate from each other. I also spotted quite a few of Casey’s football buddies.

  The next face I saw made me freeze.

  Bill.

  He was standing in the midst of several interacting crowds, oblivious to him. I could only make out his top half, wearing a black hoodie with a skull embroidered on the front. The hood was pulled over his buzzed head, shadowing his face.

  His eyes were trained explicitly on me.

  “Dante,” I said. My voice was a whisper.

  I pulled my gaze away for only a second. I caught his sleeve, turning back to face the eerie goth.

  Bill was gone.

  Frantically, I scoured the crowds. There was no sign of him.

  “What is it?” said Dante.

  It was difficult to pull my anxious gaze away from where he’d been standing. Wherever he went, now was not the time to make a scene. After all, Bill was wearing a black hoodie outside at night. It would be all too easy for him to disappear in a crowd like this.

  “Nothing,” I said in a tone that indicated the exact opposite. “Let’s just find Amon already.”

  Dante and I started for the house. We dodged and weaved through the crowd. When we reached the rickety porch, it was surprisingly empty. Though the blinds were shut, it was obvious that the lights inside were off. I noticed a few wandering gazes from the crowd drift our way.

  Was everyone really taking this whole Hexham Hell House bullshit seriously? Something was off. Teenagers didn’t just have a party at a “haunted house” and then steer clear of it.

  Dante approach the front door. That’s when I noticed the note pinned beside the doorknob with a steak knife. It appeared to be stained in blood. Only at a drunk high school party at a haunted house could someone get away with
this. The words were big, sloppy, and finger-painted in the same suspicious red substance:

  Dante and Monica may enter. Anyone else will be killed.

  “Hey,” said a boy’s voice.

  Unlike Levi, I didn’t identify this voice instantly. He waved and navigated his way through the crowds to the front porch. It wasn’t until I spotted his well-built frame, blonde crew cut, and the cross on his necklace that I recognized him. Eli Jacobson—one of Casey’s football buddies. The “Tim-Tebow-wannabe Jesus freak” if you remember that highlight of my nonjudgmentalism.

  “Oh…hey, Eli,” I said.

  “Some party, huh?” he said. His gaze shifted to Dante for only a split-second. And then he glanced past me. “Love the sign.”

  I forced a weak smile, turning back to the bloody warning. “Yeah. It’s…great.”

  “Yeah…” Eli agreed awkwardly. He ran his hand across the fuzz of his crew cut.

  Dante rolled his eyes, clearly perturbed by the bungling small talk.

  “So hey, I have a favor to ask,” said Eli. He seemed all too aware that the conversation was spiraling to self-destruction. “Two of my buddies thought it would be funny to sneak into the house. That was like a half-hour ago. If you’re going in, could you tell them to get their butts out here?”

  My face paled instantly, and Dante seemed all too aware.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’ll tell them,” said Dante.

  Eli blinked vacantly, as if noticing Dante for the first time, and nodded. “You’re Dante, right?”

  Dante raised an eyebrow. “Uh…”

  “Zoey mentioned you,” said Eli. His gaze seemed to scan Dante up and down. Dante shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. “You seem like a good guy.”

  “Um…thanks,” said Dante. His tone was not so much thankful as it was suspicious.

  Eli cast one last lingering glance from Dante to me before turning and leaving. As he wandered off, Dante and I slowly shifted to face the door with its blood-inked message. We exchanged dreading glances.

  “You ready for this?” he said.

  I responded with a look that said, ‘Do I look like a sadomasochist?’

  Dante opened the door, and whether it was gentlemanly or not, allowed me to enter first. I stepped into the musty darkness and was then fully immersed in it as Dante shut the door behind us.

  “Hey, keep the door open!” I said. “I can’t see anything!”

  “Oh,” said Dante. “Right. Human. Here, how about some better light?”

  Dante’s blue Demon eyes could obviously see in the dark because I could hear him strolling casually across the hardwood floor to a distant wall. There was a soft flick and then a hum as electrical light filled the room. Only two bulbs of the entryway chandelier lit, although one flashed and died instantly, leaving only one left.

  The place was still in shambles, to put it in the most generous sense possible. Every surface was caked in dust. Cobwebs stretched across corners of the ceiling. Several pegs were broken or missing from the railing of the nearby staircase, ascending to the shadowy balcony. The spacious front room was still fully furnished, although couches and chairs were ripped to pieces. Carpets were torn and frayed. Vases and other fragile antiques were shattered. And, of course, there were giant claw marks everywhere; Amon’s grandiose signature.

  I then noticed a faint trace of liquid red across the hardwood floor. It trailed further into the house.

  Blood. Fuck.

  “Ah, bread crumbs,” said Dante.

  I acknowledged Dante’s attempt at humor with my ha-ha-ha-SHUT-YOUR-JOKE-HOLE look. He cleared his throat and pretended that he didn’t have a mouth anymore.

  I followed the trail. With each step, my gut twisted into a tighter knot. This reminded me all too much of finding my brother barely alive in a pool of his own blood. Dante stayed by my side, although my gaze was still fixed on the floor. Like, I even blinking felt like a mistake. The occasional bloody droplets increased to a trickling line, ever thickening. Alongside it, wood splintered out from claw marks spread as wide as my face. Naturally, as we left the light of the entryway, the shadows consumed us. And then the darkness was diminished from cracked and broken windows. Moonlight flooded the connecting room. The ceiling finally opened up into a spacious den. The blood, however, ended at a lonely puddle in the middle of the floor.

  Something dripped from above, sending a ripple outward. I swallowed hard as my gaze shifted up.

  There were two bodies lying on the ceiling.

  After the initial what-the-fuck moment, which nearly sent me into cardiac fucking arrest, I realized the bodies had been smashed into the ceiling. The plaster and drywall caved around their broken corpses. Both bodies were wearing letterman jackets.

  So much for warning Eli’s friends.

  Painted in blood beside their lifeless faces was a single word on the ceiling: Balcony.

  “I don’t think Amon did this,” said Dante. “I think there might be more than one Demon here.”

  Dante never looked scared. Ever. So this slightly pants-shitting look that he was suddenly wearing made me more than a little uncomfortable

  Even then, I could barely peel my gaze away from the bodies. Their faces were still frozen in this horrible moment, their mouths open mid-scream, their eyes watching death as it came. I could only imagine the last thing they saw before they died like this.

  Dante and I backtracked to the stairs. I took the lead. Each step squealed miserably under my skinny-to-a-fault frame. So much for the element of surprise. Dante followed suit behind me, however, and his steps were surprisingly squeak-free. Jesus, and there went my self-esteem.

  I summoned the Demon Dagger. Without even looking down, I felt the cool metal grip materialize in my hand. We only made it half-way upstairs when Dante winced. A few more steps and he was cringing like the migraine of the century had gone Hiroshima in his skull.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Dante closed his eyes with both hands to his head. “I don’t know. Oh god. It’s like the same thing Zoey did to my head.”

  And that’s when this voice happened. This goddamn voice that resonated throughout the entire house, both subtle and booming. Hissing. Indiscernible whispers. The chorus of disturbing sounds transformed into words.

  “Dante…this…isn’t…your…fight.”

  The Arctic Ocean exploded in Dante’s fearful eyes. “Mammon.”

  “Asmodeus. Lucifer. Take him.”

  The walls exploded. Something multi-winged and powerful screamed through the house like a living cannonball. Dante was directly in its path. One second he was there, the next he was gone with splinters of wood raining down.

  From outside, one girl screamed. This was accompanied by mass verbal hysteria outside. Whatever the hell crashed through the house, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Amidst the cries and loud swearing, car engines roared to life. Tires peeled out of the long gravel driveway.

  “Monica, there’s no need to worry,” said a sickly familiar voice from upstairs. “The others won’t hurt you. Come up here so we can talk.”

  It was Amon.

  My heart was jackhammering, on the verge of exploding. My hand trembled on the railing. I backed down the stairs several steps, glancing frantically for some sign of Dante. Whatever the hell happened to him, he was gone now.

  “I would highly discourage backing out now,” said Amon. “I have something—or should I say someone—who you might not want to leave without. She’s dying to see you.”

  14

  The Big Bad Wolf

  No combination of swearing could encapsulate the holy fuckness of this moment.

  There was only one person who it could be. Sickening fear that gurgled in my stomached and threatened to vomit up my throat. I forced myself up the stairs one step at a time. One step. Another. And another.
The balcony area slowly came into view. From the pale light of the entryway, I could make out bubbly clouds painted on the walls and ceiling. Ventriloquist dummies were strung up in a fucking wooden menagerie, their limbs dangling and bumping ever so slightly. Shelves of picture books and toys lined the walls. Creepy toy clowns and stuffed animals of were strewn about.

  The balcony was a sprawling playroom. However, the long-haired teen standing in the far corner looked anything but playful.

  It wasn’t until I reached the top step that I recognized a disturbing addition to the suspended dummies. Zoey was dangling among them, tied, gagged, and unconscious like the most exquisite dummy of all. She hung only a foot above Amon’s head.

  “She’s alive and well,” he said. He tapped her forehead with his index finger. “The only reason we tied her up here is so she wouldn’t get in the way.

  “We?”

  “Like I said, the others won’t hurt you. They’re only here to take care of Dante. I insisted that I have you all to myself.” Amon’s yellow eyes narrowed on me. “And I always get my way.”

  In a very wolf-like manner, he began pacing along the wall in a slow circle, eyeing me with this hungry eagerness.

  “I figure that Zoey can be the trophy of our fight. I really wanted to eat her now, but I think this will be more fun.”

  “You’re one sick fuck,” I said. My grip tightened on the Demon Dagger.

  “Let that be motivation to win then. I thought your brother had the incentive when I killed his girlfriend. That pathetic worm didn’t even scratch me. Talk about disappointment. Hopefully his sister can live up to expectation.”

  As he spoke, his complexion suddenly darkened. It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t his skin but rather dark hairs splintering out of his pores.