I could now see where this was going.
“When we got home my mom took me down to the basement and uncovered the pentagram. ‘A coven requires thirteen, but today two will have to do,’ she said, handing me an old robe. ‘I need your help now.’
“I don’t really remember what happened next,” Nicholas said, his voice almost a whimper.
I had never heard him this weak before.
“I remember it getting really dark and smelling like rotten eggs. Then, inside of the pentagram, a figure appeared. I could hear my mom screaming at it, asking it questions, but every time it spoke back all I could hear was the sound of wind, like I was standing in the middle of a tornado.
“Strangely, I wasn’t scared through any of this. Not until I heard my mom say ‘Yes, I do have a child, but I will not trade his soul for another.’ She looked at me briefly. I could tell from the tone of her voice and the look in her eye that she had considered trading me to this thing for a biological child of her own. I think that is what made me the most afraid—that I wasn’t loved like I thought I was—that perhaps my mother wanted something more than I could give her. She then went on, telling the shadow that if it was claiming the souls of her unborn children, and if that was why she constantly miscarried, then she would simply stop trying to have children.
“That made the demon angry. Mom kept screaming at it to tell her how it was summoned, or who summoned it, or whether my father had anything to do with his ability to steal the souls of their unborn children, but by this time it was just screaming.
“When it got angry, it came after me. As it turned to look at me the strangest thing happened—I could understand him. He didn’t speak in words vocally—he could only wail like the wind—but as he looked into my eyes I could hear his thoughts. If she would deny him more souls, he would deny her mine.
“Then, the only thing I thought about, besides my fear, was you, Edmund. I don’t know why, but I found myself wishing you had been there in that room with me. The thought of you in that room gave me comfort. Even though I’ve always been curious as to why I thought of you in this moment, I never really wanted to know. I had a feeling the answer to that question would have been scarier than even the shadow creature in front of me.”
I opened my mouth to answer his question, but he quickly echoed, “I don’t want to know.”
Nicholas continued, “I guess the demon could read my thoughts just like I could his because as soon as I thought your name, a certain level of curiosity was piqued. I heard him take note of my name and my family and then he seemed to pull information from my memory. Strange, I know, and I’m not sure how to explain it, but I found myself experiencing memories of the people I knew in the orphanage. Even people I had forgotten about appeared in flashes of remembrance. Because of this, I became extremely important to the demon. He thought of somebody… somebody who he had to take these memories to… somebody more powerful than he was… somebody he was afraid of.”
“Who?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
“Joshua,” Nicholas said, meeting my eyes. “The name was said so hurriedly, like the demon didn’t want me to hear it. Then, he reached out and touched me briefly before vanishing.”
“He touched you?” I asked.
“Actually, I think he attacked me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He left marks.”
“Marks?”
Nicholas’s eyes fell to my chest.
I reached up and touched my shirt, where blood had started to stain. I had almost forgotten all about the cuts and bandages; I hadn’t even looked at them after the nurse had left. They must have still been bleeding, because the bandages were soaked through.
“Where,” I asked almost incoherently, but Nicholas understood. He reached up and touched his right cheek.
“He cut all the way through. It took seven surgeries to fix it. Luckily I was still young enough that the scar stretched and faded as I grew.”
“You said that you have recently seen one of these figures again?”
“The other morning when I went to the gym,” he nodded. “I was in the steam room after my workout. I thought someone else had come into the room, because it got cold, like someone had left the door open. I could see a figure through the steam, but couldn’t make it out. It just stood there staring at me. I made some comment like, ‘Hey buddy, stop staring at me.’ The response was familiar, recognizable.”
“How so?”
“It sounded like wind.”
Fifteen
Two days later was Monday, which meant I had to go to classes I neither cared about nor could focus on. For so many years I had been at a dead end when it came to my past: Orenda, the orphanage, and most importantly, demons. I now had two leads—Sister Mary Elizabeth and Nicholas’s mother.
Xia followed me to my classes, insisting that she had nothing better to do since Quon was too wrapped up in a project he was working on in computer architecture to be much of a conversationalist, but now, as she sat next to me in American history, I couldn’t help but notice that the longer the professor droned on the more her head bobbed. It was kind of adorable, watching her teeter on the edge of sleep.
Although I was excited at the prospect of no longer being at a dead end in my search for the truth of where I came from, I was worried as well. If I was no longer at a dead end, thanks to a demon that set off a series of events that led me to people who might have some answers, that meant the demons were no longer at a dead end either. I wondered if the murders of the orphaned children had helped them arrive at the same two people I was now going to visit. I sincerely hoped not.
“Edmund?”
Great. The professor had caught me not paying attention… again.
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you hear the question?”
“We were talking about national policy in the 1920’s.” At least, I hoped we were still on that subject.
“Specifically we were talking about the Kellog-Briand Pact of 1928.”
“The one that the United States co-authored that outlawed war as an instrument of national policy?”
The professor looked a bit taken aback by my statement. “Sufficient recovery, Mr. Gavel.”
I supposed that I had somehow answered his question, although I was still unaware what that question was.
I turned to Xia and caught her smiling at me as the professor assigned the next chunk of reading that would be covered in the following class period. Commotion ensued as my fellow classmates and I put away books and notepaper and started filing out the door.
Xia spoke before I got out of the classroom, “Difficult time concentrating,” she said, her inflection halfway between a statement and a question.
I pulled my bag over my shoulder. “You looked pretty bored yourself.”
“I enjoy history,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Just not American history.”
I grinned, not quite certain myself whether I was trying to imply my agreement, sympathy, or understanding. I was distracted. She was so intoxicating in that skirt. My eyes couldn’t get enough of her.
“So what’s the plan?”
When I looked back into her eyes, they darted in an I-noticed-you-noticing-me way. I felt color rush to my cheeks when I realized her question wasn’t just for conversational purposes, but to pull me out of my momentary trip into manhood.
Recovery from manhood idiotic question number one: “Well, are you going to keep following me around all day?”
She eyed me quizzically, inviting me to try again. It was awfully kind of her to forgive the lack of blood flow to my brain, but that embarrassed me even further.
“What I mean is, I’m not sure I’m going to the rest of my classes today. I’m having a bit of trouble concentrating.”
This time she flushed. “Would it be better if I didn’t accompany you?”
Great. Now she was bringing up the fact that she noticed me noticing her. Her question implied that the
reason I was having trouble concentrating was because of her.
“No no,” I answered quickly. “It isn’t you. All this life stuff… you know…”
She looked hurt. Idiotic moment number two.
I sighed as I pushed open the glass door to the history building and stepped outside into the cool air. I stopped and faced Xia after holding the door open for her. “Let me try again. I have a lot on my mind, and am finding myself distracted rather easily.”
A tiny bit of excitement welled up in my stomach when the look in her eye told me she was expecting my eyes to drift away from hers when I said the word “distracted.” The truth was that she was one of those distractions, and I would have wanted nothing more than to look over her body when I said that, but I controlled the impulse and held her gaze. I didn’t want to make myself look any more stupid.
“But,” I continued, “I would love someone to talk it over with. Care to join me for lunch?”
Bingo. Her resulting smile was radiant. Stupidity absolved. Normalcy restored.
“So what will we be having?”
We started walking again and I answered, “I make a killer grilled cheese.”
The walk to the north campus housing wasn’t far, and Xia and I contented ourselves with our own thoughts in silence while we walked. I knew it was probably strange of me not to think about the circumstances surrounding my life in those minutes, but it was a welcome break to forget about demons and magic for a while. I found myself thinking about what I imagined Xia thinking about.
We walked close to each other, which made me happy. Either she had forgiven me for my earlier indiscretions, or (the possibility I found much more likely) she was purposefully trying to understand how I felt about her. That, I deduced, would mean that she felt something for me.
But then I started to feel a little arrogant, imagining that I knew her thoughts and motivations. We had only known each other for a few days and it was very improbable that I knew her well enough to know anything about what she was thinking. Even still, the thought that she might be thinking about me as we walked together, bumping hands occasionally, perhaps purposefully, caused me to feel warmth and happiness that I had never experienced before. I was such a dork.
I found myself noticing all the other men on campus, noticing their eyes trail up and down her body as we walked, sizing me up afterwards. The warmth and the happiness mixed with the icy sting of overprotective jealousy. The odd emotional combination sat strangely comfortable with me.
When we got to the dorm building we opted to take the elevator to the third floor, where Nicholas, Quon, and I shared a room. Xia watched the numbers in the elevator climb with a seductive smirk on her face. I watched her.
Xia finally spoke as the elevator doors swung open, “You’d better watch the creepy stalker stare,” she jested. “It scares some girls.”
“Sorry,” I said, done denying the fact that I was admiring her. “I didn’t mean to creep you out.”
Now Xia laughed, which wasn’t exactly the reaction I had thought I would receive. “You had us throw a hammer at your head, but instead made it change directions mid-air, shatter a window, which you then put back together, and you think I’m creeped out that you find me attractive?”
Now I was laughing too. “I guess you have a point. I just didn’t want you to think I’m the kind of guy that…”
“Stop,” she cut me off. “All guys are ‘that kind of guy’ sometimes, and I’ll let you in on a little bit of a secret: woman actually don’t always mind… ”
“…I know… sorry,” I cut her off this time. I really didn’t need a lecture into the psychology of how women view men. “And just for the record, you are very beautiful.”
She took the compliment well, simply responding, “Thank you, I know. I dress this way for a reason… men are fun to tease.”
She bit her lip playfully, more teasing, and went to open the door to my room, when I grabbed her hand. “Wait,” I said, taking her hand gently off the knob.
I pointed to the red tack that had been pushed into the soft wood of the doorframe.
“College boy sign?” Xia chuckled. “I thought it was a sock on the doorknob.”
“Socks are too obvious. Nicholas prefers a tack,” was all I responded, because as if on cue, we heard a strong masculine grunt from beyond the door. “How about we hit up the cafeteria?”
When we got there, Xia ordered a vegetarian spinach salad—light on the vinaigrette dressing. I couldn’t help but notice how much attention she got from the guy behind the counter. He even had to remake her salad because, while being distracted by her cleavage, he accidentally used the real bacon bits instead of the imitation ones. My tuna sandwich was thrown together miserably… In fact, I was pretty sure I had ordered turkey.
“You know,” Xia said after we had paid and filled our drink cups with the college’s most recent concoction they had the nerve to call iced tea, “lunch in a college cafeteria is an experience not to be missed.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s like watching ravenous wolves,” she chided.
“Is this some sort of commentary on people who eat meat?” I chuckled as we sat down.
Xia peeked at my tuna sandwich. “Not at all, actually. In fact, I wasn’t even talking about the way people eat.” She glanced back toward the counter, at the guy who was still staring at her. “So this nun…”
The change of subject was abrupt enough to catch me off guard. I flinched a little at being pulled back into the world of reality. Reality. Demons, death, and magic were reality. I didn’t want to go back to that subject. I wanted to be a normal college guy having lunch with an abnormally beautiful college girl.
“How do they make imitation bacon bits anyway?” I asked, poking at one in her bowl. “I mean, they would have to use pig flavoring or something, right? Wouldn’t that be even worse than the real thing? Killing a pig to make pig flavoring?”
She slapped my hand, knowing I was being playfully irreverent. “It’s imitation smoke flavoring on crispy crumbs of red-dyed bread. When are you going to go see her?”
Ok. I would allow myself this conversation with her, not because I wanted to, but because talking about it seemed to excite her.
“This weekend, I think,” I answered between bites of sandwich. “I really thought about doing it sooner, but I haven’t been to work in long enough that my boss told me if I ever come back I’ll have to work for minimum wage… so I think I’d better go back and try to smooth things over with him.”
“Well you should show him the cuts on your chest and tell him you’ve been sick,” Xia sympathized.
I laughed. “He’s a pretty decent guy. I really don’t think he’ll give me much trouble. He didn’t fire me now, did he?”
“What is it you do, exactly?”
I thought for a few seconds while trying to decide how I could answer this and not sound like a total nerd, and without offending her. After swallowing the bite of sandwich I purposely took to buy me some time, I still had nothing. “I stock a local supermarket. And work with meat sometimes.” Big whoop.
Xia didn’t seem too disappointed. She was smart enough to understand that this was just a job to get me through college.
“And your boss owns the place?” she asked.
“Yeah. Owner and manager—and butcher,” I grinned.
Xia’s face twisted into an ill look. “If you EVER come home smelling like meat…” but she didn’t finish her sentence.
She didn’t need to. I smiled at the idea that she was thinking about being wherever I was when I came home. I got the feeling that it was now her turn to hastily stuff something into her mouth in order to keep quiet.
“I want to go with you,” she blurted out awkwardly after clearing her throat with a gulp of iced tea. “To see the nun, I mean.”
“Sister Mary Elizabeth,” I corrected. “You probably wouldn’t want to call her ‘the nun’ to her face. Really. She’s a bit… opinionated. I don
’t even know that she’ll be willing to talk to me.”
“Well, Nicholas and I talked about it, and I think we both want to go. Strength in numbers, right? Not to mention the fact that you really can’t just leave us at home wondering what is going on. You’ve involved us all now.”
“What about Quon? And your schooling? How long are you in town anyway?”
Xia waved dismissively and her throat made a noise that matched her apathy. “Quon doesn’t really seem to have an opinion about all this, but he’s always been the least spiritual person in our family. Buddha himself could appear and he’d go take a nap. As for school? I took this semester off, and we have two months before the next one starts. I was thinking of maybe transferring—”
“Nicholas wanted to come?” I interrupted.
Before Xia had the chance to answer, an extremely bubbly blond dressed in a Santa hat knocked loudly on our table. I found the gesture not only odd, but unbelievably annoying.
“Hi guys,” she started, without any observance for our former conversation. “I’m Brittany and I’m collecting donations for ‘Change for Jesus.’ Get it?” Her resulting chuckle was so condescending that I had to suppress my desire to punch her.
“Anyway, this year the Christian students have teamed up together to collect money to renovate an old church somewhere in the city. We’ve collected over three thousand dollars just on campus. Will you donate?”
I smiled. “The money is going to renovate a church? Not feed the hungry or clothe the poor?”
A look of complete seriousness fell over her face, “By helping Christians here you help Christians everywhere.”
“We aren’t interested,” Xia glared sharply.
“But Thanksgiving is just a few days away,” Brittany pointed to her Santa hat like she was making some sort of coherent statement, “now is the time for giving.”
Her sugary-ness was too sweet to handle.
“We don’t believe in Jesus. Xia’s Wiccan, and I’m not religious,” I said tersely.
Brittany’s eyes grew big, but not in shock or surprise… I was pretty sure it was anger.
“But without Jesus you cannot be saved, for no man can enter the kingdom of God but by him. He performed many miracles, healing the sick and turning water into wine—”
Death of the Body Page 17
