Demonosity (6 page)

“Where are you going?” Thomas demanded, his face still leached of color.

“I’m going inside. Where I belong.”

Then, without another word, she walked straight through the apparition that was Thomas. For a moment his mismatched eyes widened in disbelief, but instead of doing anything, he suddenly disappeared altogether, leaving only a single feather in his place. She locked the back door as soon as she was inside. She waited a moment until her heart rate had returned to normal before going to check on her dad. She had no idea what had just happened, but she was 100 percent sure that she didn’t want it to happen again.

“T
his is extraordinary,” Nash said two hours later as he carefully turned the page of the book and pointed to a diagram, his excitement so palpable that he was almost bouncing off the bed. “Do you realize what this is? A genuine grimoire. Here. In my hands. I should’ve figured it out by the diagrams, but they’re just so rare that it never occurred to me. And now, not only do we have it, but
you
can
read
it.” His pale blue eyes were alight with awe.

“Shhhhhh.” Cassidy held a finger up to her mouth as she glanced toward the bedroom door. It was only ten at night, and even though her mother
still
hadn’t come home from the office, her dad had gone to bed an hour ago, which was about the same time Nash had arrived in answer to Cassidy’s desperate text message. He’d been saying “This is extraordinary” ever since.

“Sorry.” He instantly lowered his voice, his gaze never leaving the book in front of him. “But honestly, it is amazing. I can understand only about one word in ten, and yet all of a sudden, you can read it like it’s a magazine. I wish it would choose to accept my touch so that I could read it, too. Tell me what this one says. Is it a spell or an instruction? Oh, I bet that it’s a—”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Cassidy cut in while trying to avoid looking at the grimoire, since, unlike Nash, she found it more than a little disturbing that it was no longer a blurry mess of confusion but rather was completely legible. Mainly because if that part of what Thomas had told her was true, then it might mean that— No! She slammed the lid shut on that particular thought, since no good could come of thinking it.

Nash regretfully shut the grimoire. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just hard not to get carried away. The implications this could have are unprecedented. And this Black Rose that he talked about. You do realize that he’s referring to immortality. The fifth element: spirit. The unknown factor that every scientist, philosopher, and alchemist has searched for, since . . . Aren’t you curious?”

“Not even a little bit,” she was quick to assure him.

Nash heroically seemed to swallow his disappointment while trying not to look like a scientist who had just had his lab equipment taken away. Then he perked up a bit. “So if this Thomas of yours comes back, perhaps you could just ask him a few questions for me?”

“He’s not
my
Thomas,” Cassidy quickly protested. “And you’re forgetting that I don’t want to see him again. Ever.
Ever, ever, ever
. That’s why I’ve got to figure out a way to make sure he doesn’t come back again, since one run-in with a freakish knight is enough to last me a lifetime.”

“Do you really think he will?” Nash studied her face.

“He was pretty intense—you know that crazy look Mr. Kirkland used to get in his eyes when he talked about dung beetles? It’s like that but doubled. I get the feeling that he’s not the kind of guy who likes taking no for an answer.” As she spoke she glanced over to Nash’s silver Zippo, which he had left on her desk. He didn’t smoke and as far as she knew he didn’t have any major pyro tendencies, but he often did his best thinking when staring into the flame of the lighter. She suddenly wondered how well it would burn through leather book binding.

“Okay, okay.” Nash suddenly stood up and pocketed the Zippo, as if somehow reading her mind. Then he headed for the window. “I’ll help you, as long as you promise not to do anything dumb. Let me go see Howard. You know, my antiquarian friend. He’s an insomniac who owes me a favor or two. Hopefully, he’ll let me do some research on grimoires and the best way to deactivate them.”

“Thank you.” Cassidy gratefully followed him over to the window and watched as he effortlessly swung his long legs over the ledge and dropped out into the garden of the one-story house.

“Don’t mention it. And try to get some sleep. You look exhausted,” he advised before he disappeared out into the night and started to jog the three blocks back to his own house. Once he was gone, Cassidy crawled into bed and closed her eyes, but regardless of how tired she felt, her mind refused to shut down. Instead, it went over and over her disturbing encounter with Thomas. And no matter how much she tried to block it from her mind, it just kept coming back. In despair, she finally pushed back her comforter to turn some music on, in the hope that it would take her mind off everything.

The wooden floor was cool beneath her feet as she thumbed through her MP3 player searching for a song, but before she could put it into the docking station she caught sight of the grimoire, at the far end of the desk. The MP3 player fell from her hands as she saw a pair of swirling amber eyes staring out at her from the cover. They were there for only a second, and then they disappeared.

Cassidy had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming as her heart pounded in her chest. They were the same eyes she had seen last time she looked in the grimoire. The same eyes that she’d seen on the owl. Thomas had told her that he’d been using the owl to seek her out, but now she wondered if he was looking at her through the grimoire as well.

However, as she stared at the book, her panic was replaced by anger. She was
so
sick of people telling her what to do. First her mother and now Thomas. Why didn’t anyone seem to understand that no meant no? Then she froze as something else occurred to her. If the book didn’t exist, then Thomas would no longer be able to find her.

If the book didn’t exist . . .

That was it, and before she could change her mind, she reached for a pair of scissors and dug them deep into the leather cover. After all the drama the book had put her through, she almost expected it to make some kind of noise and perhaps ooze some black sticky goo, but apart from the sound of the blade slicing through the leather, there was nothing.

Cassidy stabbed at it again, this time making sure she ripped the pages as well, until all that was left was enough shredding to keep a hamster happy for a month. She gathered up the disemboweled tome and scooped it all into a plastic bag, quickly making her way to the front door.

Her nerves jangled at the idea of being outside, but the thought of having the grimoire in the house for another minute, even in its slashed state, made her stomach churn, and she forced herself to step out into the inky night. The sharp October weather prickled her skin, but she ignored it as she cautiously checked that no one was around—and by no one she meant owls or apparitions of sullen knights with blazing, mismatched eyes. However, apart from a cat howling somewhere up the street, there was nothing. Her heart hammered as she hurried to the curb and quickly threw the grimoire into the garbage can. Then she hurried inside and back down the hallway, so scared that she could barely breathe and—

“Cassidy, is that you?” asked a voice from the kitchen, and Cassidy froze as she realized that her mom must’ve come home. She reluctantly peered in to where her mom was standing next to the microwave, clutching a sharp knife in her hand.

“I-I didn’t hear you come in,” she stammered.

“I did call, but when there was no answer, I thought you were asleep. What were you doing out there?” Her mom looked confused as she put the knife back down on the bench.

“Um, I was just getting some fresh air.” Cassidy crossed her fingers and tried not to look as if she’d just been disposing of a mutilated ancient book that a time-traveling, demon-fighting knight who was now dead had given her.

“Fresh air? But it’s freezing out—” her mom started to say before glancing over to where the articles she’d left had once been sitting. “Oh, let me guess. You were throwing away the information I got for you before the trash gets collected tomorrow.”

No
, Cassidy started to protest before remembering that she had, in fact, thrown it away earlier, but before she could say anything her mom opened up a nearby drawer and pulled out another bunch of papers.

“I guess it was lucky that I made duplicates.”

“You what?” Cassidy bristled. “So you thought that since I didn’t want to read them once, it would be good to give me a second copy? Especially when I’ve already told you that I’m not doing the school play. Why can’t you respect my decisions?”

“Because you don’t know what you want,” her mom said as she neatly placed the articles on the bench as the microwave began to ding. “You never have. I bet if I asked what your favorite candy bar was, you wouldn’t be able to tell me.”

“Of course I can,” Cassidy replied.
It was Snickers . . . no, Mars Bar . . . no, Chunky Kit Kat, or . . .
Then she shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “But that’s not the point. This isn’t about chocolate bars, it’s about—”

“What’s going on?” Her dad suddenly appeared, leaning forward on his crutches, sleep still crusting his eyes. Cassidy felt guilty.

“Nothing.” She shook her head and was surprised to see her mom give her a grateful look. Not that Cassidy was doing it for her. She was doing it for her dad. Then she yawned. “Anyway, I’m going to bed now. Try and get some rest, Dad,” she said, before hurrying back to her bedroom. Then she crawled into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

F
eeble rays of light pushed in through Cassidy’s white drapes, and she was just about to roll over and go back to sleep when she suddenly remembered what had happened yesterday. The owl. The knight called Thomas. The grimoire.

A chill went through her, and she sat up with a start. But as she glanced around the room, there was nothing but the flickering morning sun bouncing off the scissors that she’d used to destroy the book. More important, the eerie sensation that had been her constant companion since she’d discovered the book was no longer with her. She had been right. No book, therefore no stalker knight following her every move.

She pushed aside the drapes and peered out the window to where the trash cans were standing, their tops flipped back like they always were after they’d been emptied. Which meant that not only had she destroyed the grimoire, but it was now sitting in a pile of potato peelings and moldy bread in the back of a stinky truck somewhere.

It was over.

Then she looked at the tattoo on her arm. It no longer burned, but it was stupid to take any chances; she reached for her nail polish remover and vigorously scrubbed it off until her skin was pink and raw. Then she realized that if she was going to get rid of her tattoo, she should get rid of her dad’s as well, just to be on the safe side. She grabbed the remover and hurried to his bedroom, where he was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, with a large pot of tea on the nearby dresser.

“Do you want a cup?” He nodded at the pot, and Cassidy pulled a face. She pretty much loved everything about her dad, but it was going to be a cold day in hell before she drank tea.

“Er, no thanks.” She sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to disturb his knee. “So how are you? Did you sleep okay?”

“Actually, I did,” he said. “By the way, your mom’s gone down to the bakery to grab some croissants, because hey, nothing says Halloween like croissants.”

“Well, the chocolate-filled ones can be pretty scary,” she joked as she fiddled with the nail polish remover. “But I’m pleased you’re feeling better. I was worried that you might have overdone it last night.”

“And I’m wondering why you’re holding a bottle of nail polish remover. Is this going to be like the time you set up a beauty salon and made me have my nails painted?”

“I was ten,” Cassidy reminded him as she opened up the bottle. “I just noticed last night that your tattoo is starting to fade and look ratty, so I thought it was time to take it off.”

“What’s going on?” He looked at her in surprise before noticing that her own tattoo was gone. “Cassidy, are you still worried? Because I thought that we had—”

“No, I promise, this isn’t because I’m worried. I just realized that it was a bit dumb of me to expect you to wear a stupid fake tattoo that came from the mall,” she said in a bright voice while quickly pouring the remover onto a cotton pad and reaching for his arm. “I mean, what will your physical therapists think when they come to visit?”

“I’m pretty sure that they won’t have an opinion on the matter,” he assured her, but all the same he let her scrub his arm clean. She was just screwing the lid back onto the bottle when the doorbell rang. Reluctantly, she got to her feet.

“That will be Nash. Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

“Actually, you could tell me what you’re going to wear to the Halloween party tonight,” her dad said.

“How did you know about that?” Cassidy narrowed her eyes.

“Nash sent me a text message. He said you were worried about me and wanted to stay home to help me with my leg exercises. Which is very nice, but completely unnecessary. Besides, if you
do
stay at home, you know that your mom will make you open the door and greet all of the trick-or-treaters.”

“Having knee surgery makes you play dirty,” Cassidy answered, while making a private note to kill Nash in a slow and very painful manner for mentioning the party to her dad. “I can’t promise that I will go to the party, but I will think about it. Happy?”

“Yes, thank you.” He gave her a smile as she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the brow. Then she said her good-byes and went out to where Nash was waiting for her by the door. Today he was wearing a pair of heavy gray army-surplus trousers and a long coat that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a highwayman.

“I thought I would come in to see how your dad is. Plus, I wanted to look at the grimoire and cross-reference it with what I’ve found.”

Cassidy winced. She was pretty sure that once Nash found out what she’d done to the grimoire, he would be crazy-mad—with emphasis on the crazy-mad part—which was why she needed to distract him.

“He’s feeling much better, but the chances of your seeing him are slim to none,” Cassidy said in a light voice as she crossed her fingers, hoping that her distraction worked. “Thanks to the fact that
someone
told him about a certain Halloween party. Oh, and in case you didn’t get it, the
someone
that I’m referring to is you, Nash Peterson.”

“Oh.” Nash had the good grace to look guilty before he shot Cassidy a curious look. “So did it work? I told him to explain to you that science proves teenagers are wired to take risks and move away from their tribe so that they can keep the gene pool expanding. And that it was, therefore, unnatural of you to want to stay at home.”

“Strangely enough, he didn’t lead with that argument,” Cassidy retorted as they finally reached his car. “And I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Now, back to my research. If you won’t let me come in the house, do you at least have the grimoire with you? Because I have found out that—”

“Actually, before we get into that, d-did you notice the night sky last night? There was this amazing constellation, and I was wondering if you knew what it was called, since you think astronomy is so much fun.”

“Astronomy
is
fun,” he corrected before coming to a halt and narrowing his eyes. “And since when do you care about the stars—especially when you’re in the middle of a crisis. Cassidy Carter-Lewis, what’s going on?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, so don’t freak out, but I got rid of the grimoire last night.”

“What do you mean ‘got rid of it’? How did you get rid of it?” Nash folded his arms, his voice dangerously low.

“I cut it up and threw it out in the trash, which was collected this morning,” she said in a rush as Nash’s face went completely still, like one of the marble statues that he admired so much. He made a grunting noise before he suddenly walked away from her, his voluminous coat billowing out behind him. Cassidy watched him circle her front yard three times before finally coming back to where she was standing next to his mom’s car.

Then he let out a breath. “Cass, my sweets, I love you like the sister that I, thankfully, never had, but I’m struggling with this. I mean, that grimoire was a
relic
. An
artifact
. It was completely unique, and its existence might’ve helped us to change our entire perception of how the world really works.
And you destroyed it?
How could you have done something like that?”

Cassidy was sensing that he didn’t want a blow-by-blow account of her scissors attack, so she took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m sorry, but I had to. It was like something was trying to claw at me from inside out. It felt wrong.
It felt evil.
And it was all because of the grimoire. Thomas told me that’s how he found me, and I saw on the book the same eyes as were on the owl. The guy might be a knight, but he definitely doesn’t have any shining armor. I just needed to get him and his creepiness away from me. And more important, get it away from my dad. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Nash filled his cheeks with air for a moment before slowly releasing it. Then he sighed. “I’m not mad. Just shocked and, if I’m honest, confused.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I went back to Howard’s. He has an extensive collection of occult books, and he owes me a favor or two, so he let me spend the entire night researching grimoires, and one of the many interesting facts I learned was that they’re imbued with magic, and, as a rule, magic books aren’t that easy to destroy.”

“Well, this one was,” Cassidy assured him. “Not only did it look like confetti by the time I finished with it, but I can tell it’s gone just by the fact that I no longer have the unsettling feeling in my stomach that I’m being watched,” she explained. “It’s over.”

“Yes, but—” However, before he could finish, her mom’s car pulled into the driveway, back from her Halloween croissant run. Cassidy immediately hurried around to the passenger’s side of Nash’s car and nodded for him to get moving. Thankfully, he merely scooped his books off the roof, and while his face didn’t quite lose its strained expression, he got in, fired up the engine, and pulled away before the electronic garage door had even opened.

Thanks to the fact that Nash was a certified brainiac who did advanced everything, Cassidy, with her B-minus average, didn’t see much of him for the rest of the day. She knew he was still pissed at her about destroying the grimoire, but he would come around eventually; he always did.

She rounded the corner as the final bell rang, trying to decide what movie she and her dad should watch tonight, when a backpack slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She doubled over as tears of pain stung her eyes.

“Watch it,” snapped a large guy wearing deck shoes, as if Cassidy’s chest had somehow damaged his precious backpack. Cassidy vaguely recognized him as Scott Wilson, a senior jock and a full-time conceited idiot.

“I think you’re the one who should watch it, buddy,” someone said, and Cassidy managed to unbend herself enough to see the new guy, Travis, standing next to her, wearing a pair of impossibly faded Levi’s and a well-loved gray T-shirt, while his tangled hair was carelessly pushed back from his smooth brow so that she could feel the full impact of his warm brown eyes.

Scott turned back around and stared at Travis, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Seriously, are you talking to
me
?”

“That’s right,” Travis agreed in a pleasant voice. “It just seems like you forgot to offer”—he paused for a moment and turned to Cassidy—“what’s your name?”

“Cassidy,” she found herself replying in a breathy voice, too surprised to do anything else.

“Thanks.” He grinned at her for a moment before turning back to the other guy, his eyes narrow and intense. “Anyway, it seems that you forgot to offer my good friend Cassidy here an apology.”

“What the—” Scott puffed out his chest like some kind of predator from Animal Planet before suddenly looking at Travis and freezing. There was nothing aggressive or intimidating about Travis, but whatever mojo he had going on, it seemed to be working; Scott suddenly nodded. “Er, right. Yeah, look, I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled before scampering off. The moment he was gone, Travis turned to her.

“Are you okay?”

“Um, y-yeah, I’m fine,” she stammered, still feeling the lingering sting where the backpack had hit her and wondering whether her cheeks were blotchy. “And thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. That guy was a jerk for doing it in the first place.”

“Definitely,” Cassidy agreed as she glanced around the hallway to where all the other students were getting jostled and pushed around by the seniors. “And by the way, welcome to Raiser Heights High. Land of the jerks. So how did you get him to apologize anyway?”

“I guess I appealed to his better self?” Travis gave a modest shrug before glancing at the time on his cell phone. “Anyway, if you’re okay, I’d better go. I need to get to the library before it shuts to get a copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
. Turns out that being new doesn’t get you out of doing the book report that’s due on Monday.”

“Oh.” Cassidy shook her head in surprise while wondering what sort of school he’d gone to before. “You won’t have any luck. The library has only two copies, and they probably won’t be returned until some time next term.”

“Really?” Surprise crossed his face. “Well, that will make the report more interesting to do.”

“Just don’t try to lift anything from the Internet, because Mrs. Webster has one of those programs that can tell,” Cassidy warned before she nodded for him to follow her. “Look, you can borrow my copy if you want.”

“You want to give me your book?” He immediately frowned, which somehow made him even better looking. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got Nash,” Cassidy assured him as they reached her locker and she punched in her code, only then remembering that her locker was stuffed full of various belts, necklaces, and cardigans that she’d worn and then halfway through the day decided were stupid and ended up taking off. If he saw that mess, he would run a mile.

“Nash?” Travis knitted his brows as Cassidy tried her best to block her locker and grab the book for him at the same time. “What’s a Nash?”

Cassidy found herself laughing. “Nash is a person. He’s my friend, and he also happens to be a genius. Very handy when it comes to book reports.”

“I can imagine.” Travis grinned as Cassidy held out the battered copy that was her dad’s from when he was in school. Travis gave a reverent nod as he took it, somehow seeming to understand that it was important to her.