“How…how’d you know?” said Zoey. And then her eyes lit up. “You’re a witch too! Aren’t you?”
“A witch? Why the hell would I be a witch?”
“Amon used me as hostage for you. My coven suspects that you killed him, and with you being alive… Well, shit. There’s no way you could take him on if you weren’t a witch.”
“I’m not a witch.”
“Well then what are you? How did you survive Amon? Did you…kill him?”
“I saved your life. You should be answering my questions.”
“You saved my life because Amon took me as hostage because of you!” Zoey shot back. “And I saved your life too. Whoever else is after you could have easily killed you off while you were unconscious in the hallway. There are others after you, right? My coven seems to think so.”
Zoey and I stared each other down in the bathroom stall in the most awkward standoff of all time. I think we both realized it. Both of our expressions softened slightly. No matter what Zoey was, there was no denying the fact that I had unintentionally dragged her into this mess. And she had saved my life in return. If there was another Demon lurking around this school, I would no doubt be dead if she and Eli hadn’t dragged my comatose ass somewhere safe.
“We’re best friends,” said Zoey. “Just tell me what’s going on. And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” She lifted her right fist with her pinky extended. “Promise.”
After all that had happened, Zoey was about the only human being on the planet I felt I could make such a compromise with. Lifting my right hand, I locked pinkies with her.
“You’re not going to believe me,” I said.
“You just accused me of being a witch, and I haven’t denied it. Not to mention we have two zombies locked in the nurse’s office. Try me.”
I sighed. “I’m a Demon Slayer.”
“Oh, come on, Monica!” Zoey rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious here. The least you could do is show me the common courtesy of not mocking m—”
I extended my hand away from Zoey, and the Demon Dagger materialized in my grasp, laced in swirling black mist.
Zoey’s sentence came to an abrupt halt, and her mouth was left gaping.
“Holy shit.”
“This is the only weapon that can kill a Demon,” I said. “It was the only way I could kill Amon and Bill.”
I opened my palm, and the Demon Dagger vanished in another puff of black vapor.
“Amon…was a Demon?” said Zoey. “And Bill? You mean you killed…?”
“His name was actually Belphegor. And yes, I killed him. Well, sort of.”
Zoey’s confusion was an unparalleled facial meltdown.
I started my story at the beginning: the first time I saw Dante, watching me through the restaurant window. I told her everything. Including the less than pleasant details of her life-crush, Casey, and his central involvement in all this. The only detail I skipped was my completely impertinent feelings for Dante. If I was trying to validate myself as a Demon Slayer, it was probably best that I didn’t mention the possibility that I kinda liked one.
“And then I woke up,” I said. “Four days later, apparently.”
Zoey blinked, still speechless. “Demons.”
Oh Jesus. This was going over well. “Yep. Demons.”
“Okay…” said Zoey, pursing her lips. “So…how many more are there?”
“At least three more,” I said. “The two that attacked Dante at Hexham Manor, Lucifer Asmodeus, and…”
My voice fell dead in my throat. I had skipped over a very important detail—one that related very closely to Zoey. The last Demon—Mammon. Dante had called him the Witch King—a Demon that made witches.
“Who’s the leader of your coven?” I asked. My tone may or may not have been completely hysterical.
“What? Why? What are you freaking out about?”
“Because the leader of your coven is either being led by a Demon named Mammon…or is Mammon.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “Mammon?”
“The Witch King,” I clarified. “Dante said his job as a Demon is to give witches their power for his own greedy purposes.”
“Oh shit,” said Zoey.. “If you’re right…? Oh shit oh shit oh shit. This is bad.”
“Who is it?”
Zoey bit her lip. “It’s Principal Marion.”
21
Scary Stories
“Principal Marion is a WITCH?” I said
“Shit, Monica,” said Zoey. “Principal Marion is the witch. Our entire coven learned the craft from her.”
I didn’t like it. Almost as much as I didn’t like my best friend casually using bullshit witch slang.
“How many witches are locked in here with us?” I asked.
“I’m the only witch still in high school,” said Zoey with a smirk. She was never one to let bragging rights go to waste. “Which means if she is that Demon, this quarantine is the time to take her down.”
“Where is she?”
Zoey’s expression dropped. “In her office.”
I watched her change of countenance uncertainly. “What’s that look for?”
“She and all of the teachers barricaded themselves inside her office. All the students think she just locked the door real good…but I can tell. She used magic to seal it shut.”
“Can you open it?”
“I think so.” said Zoey. Concern flickered in her eyes. “Prinicpal Marion convinced the other teachers to barricade themselves in there with her. She said it was to keep them safe from us. Said all this bullshit about student anarchy. But if she’s a Demon…”
I understood her concern. Whatever Principal Marion’s true intentions were, it couldn’t mean anything good for the teachers locked in with her.
“I need to break into that office,” I said. “Tonight.”
“You?” There was a hint of offense in her tone. “You mean ‘we.’”
“You think you can fight a Demon?”
“Hey, I’m a witch. I can hold my own. What about you. I mean, sure you can summon a magic Demon sword and shit, but last I remember, you had the coordination and reflexes of a senior citizen doped up on NyQuil.”
It was time for a little Show and Tell.
***
We took Show and Tell back to the theater storage loft. Together, we pushed most of the junk aside. Zoey hauled a mannequin out from the clutter and into the open space.
“Here’s our demon,” she said, plopping it at the circle’s edge. “I’m naming him Alfred.”
“Really, Zoey? Naming things right before we destroy them? That’s a little messed up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. So who gets to kill Alfred first?”
“You can go. There won’t be anything left of Alfred by the time I’m through with him.”
“Somebody’s confident. Hmm. Sounds like I should bake some HUMBLE PIE!”
As she overzealously exclaimed this last part, she swiftly removed a lighter from her pocket, flicked it open, and ignited a small flame. With her free hand, she raised it over the lighter and lifted higher. The flame swirled into a ball of fire, roaring and raging in a concentrated sphere. By the time her hand stopped, it was the size of a basketball. Even from where I stood, I could feel the sudden heat. With a thrust of her free hand, the sphere erupted forward, engulfing the mannequin. The girl was a human blow torch. As she pulled back, the flame died. Alfred was blackened and his shape was slightly warped now. She blew the smoke from her lighter like some cowboy with a six shooter.
“Humble pie,” I said, acknowledging the scorched mannequin a nod. “It looks a little burnt.”
“I like my pie extra crispy.”
I’m sure I could’ve seemed a little more impressed with her powers. Under any other circumstance, I would ha
ve been. However, something else was itching my curiosity, begging to be scratched.
“So is that how you and Eli get things heated up?” I asked.
Yes, it was a terrible pun. I didn’t care.
If my question had been accompanied by a pair of headlights, Zoey would have easily put any deer to shame. Her face completely blanked out.
“What?” she said after a moment of silence that spoke for itself.
“Oh come on. I know you two have a thing. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“He told you?”
“I interrogated it out of him. Jack-Bauer-style. It wasn’t very hard.”
“Okay, whatever, it’s no biggie,” said Zoey, even though she was consciously avoiding eye-contact. “It’s just a fling. Not even that. Honestly, the whole thing is more a show than anything else.”
“He’s cute,” I said, nudging her with a smile.
“You think so?” Her expression flinched.
“Of course. I just don’t know why you had to blow it by telling him about your lifelong Casey crush.”
“Yeah,” said Zoey. “Funny, ‘cause that’s kind of how this whole thing started.”
I raised a confused eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well…he kinda has a…similar…crush.”
My jaw dropped. Similar crush?
Casey!
“Oh, nuh-uh.” I shook my head. “You mean he…he’s…?”
Zoey grimaced. “Yep.”
“He’s gay?”
“Wait, what? No, you dummy! He has a crush on you!”
Zoey’s abrupt declaration roundhouse kicked me in the cerebral cortex. I stared back at her in a blank stupor.
“Oh shit,” said Zoey, covering her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
I wished she hadn’t told me. I now found myself analyzing everything Eli had ever said to me. It all suddenly took on an entirely new context and meaning. Holy shit! I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
“We both had crushes on Binsfelds,” said Zoey. I watched her shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “He liked you, and I liked your brother. We talked about it a bit. That’s how this whole stupid thing started. Promise me you won’t tell Eli I told you.”
“Huh?” I said. Her plea caught me off guard. “Oh. Yeah. I promise.”
There was a moment of long, awkward silence between us.
“So…” said Zoey. “It’s your turn now.”
Thank you, subject change.
This definitely wasn’t the same as sparring in the woods with Dante. He always had a way of fueling me in battle. So instead, I imagined Amon’s smug human face on the mannequin. Amon, who killed Cate. Who kidnapped Zoey. Who nearly killed my brother.
The fury came all too easily. I lunged at the mannequin. Mid-swing, the Demon Dagger materialized in my grasp. I sliced and stabbed, dancing and spinning around the target in effortless motion. Only a few seconds later, I slid to a halt, already breaking a sweat. Alfred stood in one piece…but only for a second. The mannequin collapsed to the floor in clean-sliced pieces.
“Holy shit, Jackie Chan,” said Zoey. She gawked at the mutilated plastic remains of Alfred. Her mesmerized gaze locked on to mine. “Monica, your eyes!”
It took a second for her comment to register. I already knew what to expect as I glanced at a nearby mirror crowded in the stage props.
My eyes were yellow and animal-like.
“Yeah …” I said. “About that. I have one more trick to show you. But first I have to take off my clothes.”
***
I will be the first to say that we, teenagers, are weird. We tend to make the worst out of not-so-bad situations (how often have we heard of prom turning into the worst day ever?), but in horrible situations like this (as if any other horrible situation could compare to a high school zombie quarantine with an underlying Demon plot in the mix), somehow we manage to make the most of it.
“I seriously cannot believe we’re actually doing this,” said Kelly. “Am I the only one who thinks this is ridiculous?”
Levi clicked his flashlight on. It illuminated his glasses, curly brown hair, and goofy smile. “You kidding? This is awesome. What kid doesn’t dream about telling ghost stories in a real-life high-school-wide slumber party?”
Eli, Zoey, and I exchanged speechless glances.
Levi had organized the five of us into a circle sitting Indian-style in the center of the gymnasium. The very moment he forced us into position, he snapped a picture with the bulky camera around his neck. Somehow I didn’t think this one would be making it into the yearbook.
Zoey leaned into my ear and whispered, “How exactly are we gonna take of Principal Marion if we’re having story time with Levi?”
“Let’s just humor him,” I whispered. “We’ll have plenty of time tonight when things settle down.”
“Well aren’t you man’s best friend.”
After showing Zoey my werewolf form, I wondered just how long she’d keep the dog jokes coming.
Speaking of which… If I gained that power after defeating Amon, did I obtain a similar power for killing Belphegor?
The power to bite people and turn them into zombies perhaps? Ugh. I sure hoped not.
“So who wants to go first?” asked Levi. He lifted the flashlight like an Olympic torch.
Kelly, Eli, Zoey and I exchanged doubtful glances.
“Well don’t everyone volunteer at once. Fine, I’ll start—the legend of Hexham Hell House.”
Returning the flashlight to his face, Levi attempted to say this last part in his scariest voice. It was actually slightly funny.
“I’ve heard like a million different versions of this story,” said Kelly, rolling her eyes.
“Well this is the real version, so hush,” said Levi. He cleared his throat and then mustered his most sinister tone. “The Hexham’s lived in that house up until over a decade and a half ago. They were a family of seven: Dr. Hexham, his wife, and their five children. Dr. Hexham was a scholar of religious studies, and he was also a priest, and even a certified exorcist. He became an active exorcist in the seventies when the demand for exorcisms in the United States skyrocketed. The vast majority of these cases weren’t real though, and Dr. Hexham began to doubt the validity of his cause. All that changed with one call. A woman—a self-professed witch—claimed that her newborn child was possessed.”
Zoey perked up at the mention of a witch.
“Dr. Hexham accepted the case and admitted the woman and her baby into his home that night,” said Levi. “Even though the baby was a newborn, it was making terrifying sounds and speaking evil words that no newborn child should ever have been capable of. Dr. Hexham started performing the exorcism but noticed the woman was crying now more than ever. When Dr. Hexham asked what was wrong, the woman said that she was the one who summoned the spirit that now possessed her child. Not only that, but she said that the spirit she summoned was the only son of the actual Devil. She told him that it was impossible to simply exorcise what she had summoned from Hell. Dr. Hexham shrugged her claims aside and continued with the exorcising ritual. However, the woman began initiating black magic of her own to destroy the evil possessing her child—even if it meant the death of her baby as well. Whether it was the exorcism or the witch curse, no one knows, but the baby was freed from the spirit. This came at a severe cost though. The woman left with her saved child, but Dr. Hexham and his entire family were somehow possessed by the same entity that had been inside the baby. It is rumored that the power of the exorcism and the magic of her curse collided and split the spirit into seven coexistent fragments. Seven remnants of the son of the Devil. But whatever the case, the entire Hexham family killed each other off. And that woman and her baby were never seen again.”
Okay, Levi was a little too good at this scary story thin
g. The little hairs on my neck and arms were prickling.
Levi clicked the flashlight off, and even in the dark, his typical perky smile was unmistakable. “Okay, who’s next?”
“Oh my god, Levi,” said Kelly. “You’re not allowed to tell any more scary stories.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” said Zoey. “Who’d a thunk bright and shiny Levi was actually a twisted little horror fuck on the inside?”
“Hey, I said we were telling scary stories,” said Levi. “What’d you expect?”
“Maybe a story about your camera breaking?” said Eli.
Everyone laughed. Even I couldn’t resist.
“Har har har,” said Levi. “So does anybody else have a story? How about you, Monica? I bet you’ve got something.”
Before I could respond, a female voice intervened. “Hey, can we join in?”
Ironically, it was a voice that we all recognized. Our shocked expressions seemed to be split five ways. Levi flipped the flashlight back on as Lillith Hartley approached, still decked out in her cheerleading outfit. Lucy—dressed much more conservatively—followed but with growing distance and tangible irritation.
“Seriously?” said Levi. He raised an eyebrow but refused to drop his impossibly cheerful visage.
“Yeah, seriously?” said Lucy. She scrunched her nose.
“You’re telling ghost stories, right?” asked Lillith. “I wanna join in. Come on, sis. It’ll be fun.”
Lillith snatched her twin by the hand, and together they plopped down between me and Zoey. Zoey and I backed away hastily to make room. Everyone scooted and shifted to accommodate.
“I’ll go first,” said Lillith before Levi even had a chance to ask.
Levi nodded and passed the flashlight. “It’s all yours.”
Lillith proceeded to clear her throat in her obnoxious cheerleader way, positioning the flashlight against her face for effect. Meanwhile, Lucy rolled her eyes, clearly wondering how she had been sucked into this.
“Once upon a time…there was a werewolf,” said Lillith in a ridiculous attempt to sound scary.
Zoey and I exchanged amused glances.
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