Demon High (8 page)

I gritted my teeth and shook my head, as if I could shake the defeating thoughts from my brain. Then I shoved myself to a sit. My legs crossed like a Zen master, I yelled, “Brittany.”

She was busy shoving college students to the ground and holding down their heads when they tried to get back up. I grabbed her by the arm when she got close and yelled in her ear. “Get them to chant. Like you did before. Help me.” Then without waiting, I went through the ritual again. I started at the beginning as if the shrieks and howls weren’t building, as if the wind was calm, as if everything was calm, including me.

At first I thought it wasn’t going to work, that Brittany wouldn’t be able to get the distraught college kids to follow her lead, but slowly their voices began to build. “Lucinda Marie Dent, we give you our power. Use it to close this circle.” I didn’t know where Brittany got her script, but it was good, on target. I chopped off the end of the candle. The flame had gone out long ago, but I ignored that detail, prayed it didn’t matter—convinced myself it didn’t matter. Then I closed my eyes and chanted…then I chanted some more.

The wind began to die, the shrieks and laughter to fade. Still I chanted. Beside me, Brittany and the college kids did the same. We kept going until all was silent around us, until there was no sound at all, except the rasp of our over-used voices.

Then I looked up.

The giant demon with the wings, the one Theodore had morphed into the first time we called him, stood in the circle staring at me. I no longer believed he was Theodore, though. In fact, I knew without a doubt I was staring at a demon lord.

I still had the athame in my grasp. I just had to plunge it into the ground, but for some reason, I didn’t.

He held up one hand. “Good work, little demonologist. I’m impressed.” He ran a finger over his upper lip. “Before we say good-bye, a word perhaps?”

My hand was shaking. I could feel his gaze on me, knew I should shove the blade into the earth, but couldn’t—not yet.

“I would like to propose a partnership of sorts with you. You need a demon to call, and as you can see, Theodore did not prove at all reliable. I would like to be that demon.” He took a step forward and held out both hands. His wings expanded. As they did, the circle filled with people…demons…big, short, children, men, human, monsters. They were jammed in the space, their faces smashed flat where they pressed against the barrier.

Bile filled my mouth. I swallowed. What the hell had I done? Who had I called?

He lowered his hand to his side and his wings folded with them. Instantly the circle was empty, except for him. He still stood there, waiting. Alone, he was intimidating enough. I felt zero relief.

“As you can see, I have a lot more to offer than Theodore, and I’m willing. So willing, I’ll give you my name.”

His name. People would kill for the name of a demon like this, to have him at their call, and he was offering it to me.

It was too much to contemplate, too tempting. I wanted to know his name desperately, but also realized the horrible consequences using it might bring. I dropped my gaze, hoping he would think I wasn’t listening, hoping if I didn’t see him I wouldn’t be tempted.

The power….

I closed my eyes and blocked all thoughts of what he could bring me out of my mind. Then my arm shaking in protest, I plunged the knife toward the ground.

As the tip pierced the earth, I heard a whisper…a name…Kobal.

o0o

The group was quiet as we hiked back to the cars. No need for scary tales now. Brittany’s cousin and his friends were gone. At least I assumed they were; their car was missing.

“Sober enough to realize I was going to kill him if I got a hold of him, I guess,” Brittany muttered. She hadn’t said anything else to me, uttered any more apologies, since I’d sent Kobal back to hell. But then I hadn’t apologized either. I hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t sure what to say.

Colette wandered past. She and the remaining boys all looked dazed. I was ready to stutter out an apology and run for the car, but Brittany strode forward, hand out. “The price was two hundred and fifty a person. Normally we wouldn’t have charged for the three who stayed here.” She motioned to where our cars were parked. “But, since they
didn’t
stay here, you’re going to have to pay for them as well.”

I expected Colette to laugh in her face, or scream obscenities, or something, but to my surprise, she mumbled something, then walked toward her car.

“Getting her check,” Brittany explained.

I looked at her, shocked. “Do you really think we should charge them for this? We almost got them killed.”

She pulled back, her eyes round. “Are you kidding? They should pay us extra for what they got. I just wish I’d known ahead of time what was going to go down.”

Apparently, Colette’s guests agreed. By the time she got back with the check, the guys were smacking against each other like drunken moshers banging their way through a pit.

As she slipped the check into Brittany’s hand, Colette murmured. “I can’t believe…how did you two…? Was that all real?” I could see the shadow of fear in her eyes. She had been cold sober; the guys had all had at least a few before trekking to the cemetery. They were happy now that it was over. They’d already convinced themselves that what they had seen couldn’t have been real.

Brittany’s fingers wrapped around the check, and she tugged it from Colette’s grasp. “Of course. It was one-hundred-percent real. That’s what I promised, isn’t it?” Then she winked.

My mouth opened, but before I could object, Colette released a sigh, then grinned. “That’s what I thought.” The smile still on her face, she turned to me and pulled my cold hand into hers. “You were great. Really. And the demons….” Her smile faded for a second, then was back. “Really great. If you decide to call him back, let me know.” Then right before she walked off, she followed Brittany’s example. She winked.

I stared mindlessly after her. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Again my mouth opened, again I was cut off. This time by Brittany.

She shot me a warning glance, then called out, “If she doesn’t, I will.”

With a laugh, Colette waved back at us. Then she motioned for the guys. They all piled in their cars and took off.

I turned to Brittany. “What was that? You made her believe it was all fake. That there was no danger.”

Brittany rolled her eyes to the side and started walking to her car. I twisted Mum’s bag between my hands and followed. I could feel the athame inside. It brought everything back, how close I’d come to unleashing hell. My stomach churned. I twisted the bag harder.

Brittany had already climbed into the car. She was sitting in the driver’s seat, both hands resting on the wheel. I jerked the door open and threw myself onto the seat—ready for a fight, outrage.

She looked at me. Tears streaked her cheeks. “They were real. All of them. I thought…I thought we were going to die….”

Or worse. She didn’t say it, but the thought hung between us. She closed her eyes and pulled a breath in through her mouth. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her fingers stark stripes against the black leather.

I stared at her hand, remembered that same hand on my arm, pulling me, saving me. Every bit of outrage flowing out of me like dirty water down a drain, I looked at her. “You left the cemetery. You should have stayed where you were.”

“Couldn’t,” she said.

“You should have,” I repeated.

She shrugged. “It worked out. Things always do for me.” And she smiled. Tears still streaked her face, made her look Goddamn angelic.

I shook my head and laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, you’re just…I can’t figure you out, Brittany.”

She smiled, a crooked self-deprecating twist of her lips. “I work at that, so thanks.”

Unsure if I’d insulted her somehow, I licked my lips and fidgeted with Mum’s bag. After a few moments, I spoke again. “Thank you.”

She was staring out the windshield then, didn’t look at me again, didn’t ask what I was talking about. We both knew. “You’re welcome.”

Then she started the car and we drove back to town.

It had been a helluva night. The kind of night you don’t talk about once it’s over. Not unless you have to.

o0o

A few days later I was at the drugstore. Brittany had dropped by my house that morning and shoved a handful of bills at me. Sixteen people at two-hundred-fifty dollars a head. My split was mind-boggling. A piece of me said I should turn it down—that I’d almost cost everyone their lives, but when I hesitated, Brittany just rolled her eyes and thrust the money into my pocket.

I’d clung to my front door, knowing I should have refused the payment, but I hadn’t. Three thousand. That was what we’d agreed on, a twenty-five-percent finder’s fee for Brittany. She deserved more, having saved me, but I suspected she wouldn’t take it, and there was the unspoken pact between us not to mention what had happened that night again.

Anyway, despite shades of guilt, I decided to keep the money.

Nana’s prescriptions were nearly two hundred dollars. It had seemed like a fortune when I didn’t have it; now it was just a couple of bills off my wad. I knew I needed every penny I had, plus more to pay our taxes and start work on repairs, but I couldn’t resist splurging. I bought Nana some of those crustless, premade PB&Js. The kind you find in the freezer area. She never bought them, but swore they added something to the mix that made them extra-special—addictive. And I bought myself some eye liner. I’d never worn it, but Brittany did and I’d noticed how it made her green eyes pop.

I tapped the eyeliner against my wrist. Having money changed everything; it made me feel normal, at least a bit.

The woman who worked the cosmetic area came by and asked me if I needed any help. For some reason her question embarrassed me, as if she knew I shouldn’t be buying something as frivolous as makeup, or that it would do nothing to help my mousey looks. I dropped my gaze to my basket and scurried to the register.

The cashier called out my total. As I handed her five fifties and waited for my change, the warm feeling of being normal returned. Thanks to the demons, I could be like everyone else. I could buy things like eyeliner and pre-packaged food. I could even take my grandmother out to dinner and afford gas so we could tear up our bus passes for good. I could, just like my mother, provide for us.

I could be like my mother.

Is that what I wanted? The memory of the wind and howls coming from that circle were already dimming, but they had happened…could happen again. Was I willing to risk that? Wouldn’t it be better to truly be normal? To get a real job?

I glanced at the cashier. “Doris” her name tag said. She was around fifty, with permed hair that almost matched her blue smock. “Do you get a discount?” I asked.

She peered at me down her nose, as if I’d asked to borrow her car or something equally inappropriate. “Not on prescriptions, but on the rest, yes.”

“Oh.” I wanted to ask how much, but her manner wasn’t exactly encouraging. I picked up my bag and turned to go.

“They’re looking for a stock girl. Our last one, Angela Hastings…” She tilted her head and studied me anew. “…you know her?”

Angie was in my class. I knew her as well as I knew anybody, at least before I’d searched out Brittany a week or so ago. I could tell though by Doris’ slanted eyebrow that any association with Angie wasn’t going to be a plus. I gave her a non-committal shrug.

She grunted and continued. “She up and quit. No notice. Got a job at some hotel in Bethel.”

She paused again, as if waiting for a reply.

“Oh.” It was all I could think to say. What did I care about Angie’s bad work habits?

Doris shook her head and tore my receipt off the register. “Pays six fifty an hour, but you get the discount.”

It took me a second to realize she was back on the topic of a job at the drugstore. I nodded my thanks and left. Six fifty an hour. It would take me four hundred and sixty hours to earn what I made with the circle, and that was before taxes. Somehow I doubted the discount would be good enough to make up that difference, especially without including prescriptions.

Four hundred and sixty hours versus three, even three where I was pretty sure I was going to die. I could see why Mum had stuck to calling demons.

o0o

Back home I put the frozen sandwiches in the refrigerator, left Nana’s prescriptions on the kitchen counter and went to experiment with my eyeliner.

I heard her come in about ten minutes later.

“Lucinda?”

I rubbed at the smudgy line I’d managed to tug across my upper lid. Brittany had what they called a smoky eye. I’d seen it on a makeover show on TV. Mine looked more smeared, like a mistake, rather than an artfully plotted “look.”

Nana called me again. After one last swipe at my eyelid, I tromped down the stairs.

She was standing in the kitchen, holding her pill bottles. “Where’d you get the money for this?”

I’d given the lie I was about to tell some thought. I knew I couldn’t say I’d gotten a conventional job because Nana would check that out. “Brittany George. She came by the other night. Her mom was friends with Mum.”