Reign Check

by Michelle Rowen

  “You stay in Erin Heights?”

  “Yes.”

  “With who?”

  “At a hotel.”

  “All by yourself?”

  He nodded.

  “Isn’t that lonely?” I asked.

  He raised his brown eyes to mine, and I saw there was now zero humor there. “Time for you to go, Nikki. It’s been a long day.”

  “Wow, somebody’s touchy, isn’t he?”

  “We’ve arrived at your house. Please get out of this car now.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to move yet, or to follow the king’s every order. “Are you still going to Melinda’s party tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not.”

  The chauffeur exited the car and came around to my side to open the door. “You don’t have to feel weird about this, you know. I’m not going to tell anyone. The dragon must have given you a false reading.”

  “I know that. There’s no way she could possibly be right about this.”

  He sounded pretty darn certain.

  “Oh, well, good,” I said.

  “And do you know how I know?” he asked, his teeth clenched. I hadn’t realized it until then, but he was actually angry about this. “Because you’re a demon.”

  “Half demon,” I corrected.

  “Whatever.” He looked at me, and there was more distaste in his perusal than I remembered ever seeing before. “Demons are evil creatures of darkness and I want no association with them, now or in the future. I hate them.”

  I glared at him as my own level of anger rose. He was basically saying he hated me, wasn’t he? “Any particular reason, or just because hating demons is in fashion right now?”

  He held my gaze steadily, but after a moment I saw his bottom lip quiver just a little bit and pain flicker in his eyes. “A demon killed my parents.”

  That unexpected statement knocked the breath right out of me. “Rhys, I didn’t know—”

  “Please, Nikki …” He shook his head and turned his face away from me. “Seriously. Leave me alone.”

  I wanted to say something but I wasn’t sure what. Words escaped me. So instead, feeling sick inside, I did what he asked. I got out of the backseat and the door closed behind me. The car drove away and soon disappeared into the distance.

  The whole next day, I tried to keep a very low profile. I stayed home, mostly in my room. I even caught up on some homework. As it was the beginning of the weekend, this was not overlooked by my mother.

  She practically had to drag me away from my safe bedroom and English homework for a mother-daughter lunch early Saturday afternoon.

  “Everything okay, honey?” she asked. I could tell she was still concerned about what had happened earlier that week—my lie about going to the mall with Melinda. Her trust in me was on shaky ground and would be for a while.

  I missed Michael desperately. When he said he wouldn’t come to the human world to see me again until my father sent him, he hadn’t been lying. Despite thinking I’d spotted him out of the corner of my eye a couple of times this week, it had been five whole days since I’d last seen him for real.

  And Rhys … well, he obviously hated me. I figured it was mostly because his parents had been killed by a demon, leaving him all alone and forced to take the throne whether he wanted to or not. While I didn’t think this was cause to hate an entire species—even if that species was demon—I couldn’t really hold it against him too much. It still kind of bothered me, though. I didn’t want to be judged because of something I had absolutely no control over. I was half demon and I wasn’t going to be changing any time soon.

  And the prophecy—make that prophecies—well, I had no idea what to do about them. The next time I saw my father, I’d ask if he could find another dragon to help me get to the bottom of things. Yes, that was the sum total of my fabulous plan of action. I was working on something better, but nothing was immediately coming to mind, unfortunately.

  Add to that the fact that I knew Mom was still hurt, so I was trying my best to be a good daughter.

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” I told my mother. I could tell she knew I was lying, but luckily she didn’t press for more information. Maybe she figured it was simply the same boyfriend problems. “How was your date with Mr. Crane?”

  “It wasn’t really an official date.”

  “Dinner, then.”

  “It was nice. You’re lucky to have him as a teacher.”

  She wasn’t gushing about how wonderful he was, so I hoped that meant there were no wedding bells in her immediate future.

  Finally some good news.

  “Are you seeing him again?” I asked.

  “We have dinner plans tonight.” She looked at me innocently. “I know you’re going to Melinda’s party, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  Good news status removed.

  “Why would I mind?” I said tightly.

  She brightened. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Admittedly, with all my distractions and problems, I hadn’t been a stellar friend to Melinda lately, and I wanted to show her that I was helpful and reliable—at least sometimes. Besides, my only other choice at the moment was to hang out at home and feel sorry for myself.

  I could still feel sorry for myself. But I decided to do it at Melinda’s party, where I could make myself useful and where there would be loud music—the louder the better—to drown out most of my thoughts.

  I got to her house just before five o’clock, but when I knocked no one answered. After a minute, I noticed the front door was unlocked, so I let myself in like I’d done a couple times before.

  I was wearing a thin red sweater and black jeans under my winter coat. I forgot about adding any festive green to the outfit when I realized I didn’t own anything other than a supremely tacky pair of green earrings.

  Besides, green just made me think about Michael’s amulet. And his eyes.

  Before I could yell out Melinda’s name to track her down in her huge house, I heard raised voices coming from nearby. It was two people arguing loudly.

  “I hate this,” Melinda said, sounding angry. “I keep practicing and practicing and I’m not getting any better.”

  “You are,” an unfamiliar male voice soothed. “You need to trust your instincts.”

  Was this one of her dance lessons? I hadn’t known she took them in her own house. That was convenient, wasn’t it?

  “Why can’t you get someone else to do this instead of me?” Melinda asked.

  “The power to do this is in your blood, Melinda. You need to work with me instead of fighting me all the time.”

  She laughed, but it didn’t sound happy. “I thought you wanted me to fight you.”

  “I do, but …” He sighed. “You’re only making this more difficult on yourself. You won’t be ready.”

  “Ready? For what?” There was a mocking tone to her voice. “I haven’t seen anything that makes me believe all the crazy things you’ve told me are even remotely true.”

  I didn’t want to eavesdrop on a private conversation, but they were being so loud I couldn’t help myself. It sure didn’t sound like a discussion about dance lessons to me.

  “You haven’t been reading the books downstairs, have you?” the man said.

  “I’ve read all the stupid books—the ones in English, anyway—and I don’t believe any of it.” She took in a shaky breath. “You’re trying to ruin my life. Everything was great until I met you.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” He sounded weary of arguing. “Today’s lesson is over.”

  “Good. I have a party tonight—”

  “A party?” His words twisted with sudden annoyance. “You need to forget about parties and friends and focus on what’s important.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, Melinda. And you’d best get that through your head now so we won’t have problems in the future. Your duty is to learn and to get stronger so you won’t fail when the time comes to pr
ove yourself. I’m counting on you not to let everyone down.”

  “Just leave me alone!”

  The next moment Melinda came storming into the foyer and froze in her tracks when she saw me standing there. Her face was red and shiny with perspiration. She looked the least fashionable I’d ever seen her. She wore a black T-shirt, gray sweatpants that were a bit ripped, and Nike running shoes. Her long light blonde hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her bangs slicked to her forehead.

  “Nikki, hey,” she said. “I … I didn’t know you were here already.”

  I felt confused and more than a little awkward. I knew I wasn’t meant to overhear whatever they’d been arguing about.

  “You told me to come early to help set up, so here I am. The front door was unlocked.”

  The bearer of the male voice entered the foyer behind her. He was tall and muscular and dressed in sweats. He had broad shoulders and dark red hair. He didn’t look that much older than us—maybe a few years. His blue eyes moved from Melinda to me. They narrowed.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

  “I … I’m Nikki.”

  His expression shifted to a sour one, as if he smelled something funny coming from my general direction.

  “She’s my best friend,” Melinda snapped. “Don’t bother her.”

  “I thought for a moment that she was …” He trailed off, continuing to study me closely, then shook his head as if to clear it. “Never mind. I must have been mistaken.”

  “We’re finished, aren’t we?” she asked.

  His jaw clenched. He might be sort of cute if he didn’t look so miserable. “Fine, we’re finished. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “But I need to—” she began.

  “No arguments, Melinda. You still have a long way to go before you’re ready. I’ll be back tomorrow. Enjoy your party.” He nearly spat the last word.

  In silence, he turned and left through the doors behind me.

  Okay, that was intense.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  She cleared her throat. “Patrick? He’s, um … he’s my dance instructor.”

  I blinked. “He doesn’t look like a dance instructor.”

  She laughed and it sounded shaky. “I know, right? Weird. But that’s who he is.”

  I scanned her sweats. “I thought you were supposed to wear a leotard and ballet slippers for your dance lessons.”

  She looked down at her Nikes. “You’ve clearly never taken ballet, have you?”

  “No, never.”

  “There you go. Uh, we only wear the fancy stuff for the recitals.”

  She was lying to me; it was so totally obvious. But I didn’t understand why.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked.

  “Gone for the rest of the night, visiting friends from my dad’s old fraternity.” She looked relieved I’d changed the subject. “They told me that if there’s any damage from the party, I’m grounded until I’m thirty.”

  “Do they know you and your dance instructor argue so much?”

  She crossed her arms. “They’re the ones who hired him in the first place. And Patrick and I don’t argue, we debate.”

  “Sounded like a loud debate to me. And I don’t think he liked me very much.”

  “Patrick doesn’t like anybody.” She walked over to the base of the staircase and leaned against it, trying and failing to look casual. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. He … he has his own way of coaching me, and whenever I want to change something he has a fit.”

  “He’s kind of cute.”

  She scrunched her nose. “You think?”

  I nodded. “I’m surprised you don’t think so. You’re normally the expert on these things.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I don’t look at him that way. He’s more like an annoying older brother.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He goes to the University of Toronto. I think he’s twenty or so.”

  “Ancient.” I frowned. “Wait a minute, he’s a student but he’s a ballet instructor, too? Wouldn’t that be a full-time job?”

  Her eyes widened a little. “Like I said, he’s weird. Anyway, I seriously need a shower. And time is flying. So …”

  “Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll hang out down here.”

  “Check out the kitchen. I have a ton of food in there and more to come. Feel free to sample. I’ll be ten minutes, max.”

  I nodded as she ran up the stairs to the bathroom. I heard the door close behind her and the shower turn on.

  Dance lessons, huh? Color me mega-unconvinced.

  Concern swelled inside me at the thought that my friend was hiding something horrible. I’d been so busy with my own life that I hadn’t even noticed she was acting strangely, but now that I thought about it, yeah, she had been. Distracted and worried. And I vaguely recalled her having some fading bruises on her arms and jaw that she’d explained away like they were nothing. And what had I heard her say to Patrick?

  I thought you wanted me to fight you.

  That didn’t sound like the kind of conversation you’d have with your dance instructor.

  I glanced up at the railing on the second floor. The shower was still going. I knew I should go into the kitchen and mind my own business, but I just couldn’t.

  Instead, I wandered through the house looking for clues, through the kitchen and down the hall where a framed family photo of Melinda and her parents hung on the wall. The door leading to the basement stairs was ajar. When I’d been here a few weeks ago, before Melinda had her dance lessons every day after school, it had been locked. I pushed it open and slowly descended the stairs.

  It looked like a gym down there. Mats on the floor. A treadmill. Weight-lifting equipment. Not completely unexpected.

  But there was other stuff, too, that I noticed at a glance. Things that began to totally freak me out.

  For instance, there was a sword lying on the ground as if it had been dropped. Swords weren’t a typical floor accessory, so to say it stood out to me would be putting it mildly.

  A battered and ripped punching bag hung from the ceiling. The hilt of a knife protruded from it. Also a majorly unusual sight, in my humble opinion, for a home gym.

  To my right there was a table on which a selection of sharp knives were displayed. One had a curved blade with what looked like rubies set into the hilt.

  Next to the knives was a short stack of books. They looked old, with plain leather covers and yellowed pages. I reached out to open one and noticed my hand was shaking. The book fell open to a page with an illustration of a very familiar-looking horned monster with large batlike wings. My stomach lurched.

  I closed the book and quickly went back up the stairs, trying to rationalize what I’d just seen. I think it was safe to say Melinda hadn’t really been taking dance lessons, after all.

  “This is in your blood, Melinda,” Patrick had told her. “You’re only making this more difficult on yourself. You won’t be ready.”

  “Ready?” she’d replied. “For what? I haven’t seen anything that makes me believe all the crazy things you’ve told me are even remotely true.”

  I understood now what she was trying to say. She didn’t believe in demons. All she’d seen was a bunch of illustrations in some old books. It was true what they say—seeing was believing. I knew if I hadn’t seen everything I had with my own two eyes, then I’d never have believed it in a million years.

  But it was true. Demons existed, and some of them were really evil.

  The realization that was slowly dawning on me was good for one thing. Suddenly, my prophecies and my troubles with Michael and Rhys were the last things on my mind.

  Melinda could never know I knew about this. And she could absolutely, positively never find out I was half demon.

  My best friend was in training to become a demon slayer.

  12

  “I just want to have fun tonight and forget everything else,” Melinda procla
imed as she came downstairs after freshening up from her secret (she thought) demon-slayer training session. She looked gorgeous, wearing a form-fitting short red dress I’d never seen before.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, now feeling strange about being in her presence. But she didn’t act any differently than she had before. She was the same Melinda as ever. She scurried around the house, putting last-minute touches on her decorations and ordering her party-planning assistant (aka, me) here and there as we prepared for everyone to arrive.

  I watched her suspiciously. She seemed so normal. Was it possible I was overreacting to everything I’d seen downstairs? Was I worried over nothing?

  “Hey, Melinda,” I imagined myself saying to her. “Is it true you’re a demon slayer? And that Patrick guy is training you, even though you don’t seem too happy about it?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” she’d reply. “For a demon princess, and therefore my mortal enemy, you’re very perceptive.”

  “I’m actually only half demon,” I’d try to explain.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she’d say.

  And then she’d kill me dead.

  Was that why Patrick had given me the stink eye? Had he sensed I was a little bit demonic? And were Melinda’s parents demon slayers, too? Was it the family business? They’d never looked at me strangely before, though, so maybe not.

  Come to think of it, I didn’t even know what Melinda’s parents did for a living. I knew money wasn’t an issue for them. Melinda had ordered a ton of food for the party, and a couple knocks on the front door announced caterers delivering platters of sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres.

  Invited guests began to arrive at seven o’clock. By eight, there were forty or fifty kids in the house. Music blared from a variety of speakers, and the place was so loud I could barely hear myself think.

  It was probably a good thing.

  Melinda acted as if nothing had changed between us in the last couple of hours—and for her, nothing really had. After a while I could almost pretend that I hadn’t overheard what I had; that I hadn’t gone down to the basement and learned her big secret. But, unfortunately, pretending wasn’t going to make this go away.

  Maybe just for tonight.

  I avoided Larissa, who, wearing a short, tight green dress, had glared at me so evilly upon her arrival that I thought I might get a scar on my forehead, or at the very least a welt. Her issues were her problem, not mine. I had my own issues to deal with, thank you very much.