The Demon's Grave (21 page)

All I could imagine was my face slamming into that shimmering windshield.

Squealing, I braced myself for the impact, wondering which way I’d fly.

Behind the car a movement caught my eye.

Viper and Read rounded the corner, their legs almost scraping concrete on the turn.
That was too close
, I thought in relief. Then Frankie’s entire bike jerked.

It wobbled dangerously beneath us and for the second time I almost lost my grip.

A sickening warmth churned in my chest and stomach and I heard the distinct sound of metal scrapping metal.

Die in a Demon’s Grave away from everything I knew, everything familiar and everyone I knew.

I’d become another headstone for my parents to purchase.

Part of me wanted to bury my face in Frankie’s back and wait for the jarring smash. The other part had to watch.

Twisting my neck, I watched as the Maserati sped up for another go at the bike.

Stiffening, I prepared myself when I realized we were pulling farther away.

Craning my neck to look over Frankie’s shoulder I could see him catching up to Aidan and Paul, or were they slowing down?

I tried to shout at Aidan to hold on as we came level with them, but it was too late.

He knew it was coming, I could see it in his face.

The Maserati hit Paul’s bike with more force than it had hit us.

I watched the collision in helpless horror as Paul lost control.

The motorbike began to twist. The tires smoked and skidded, the distinct smell of burning rubber was hot in the air.

Paul lost his balance and they tipped onto their side.

Aidan’s leg must have bent before it could be trapped. He detached himself from the nose-less teenager and rolled.

Paul wasn’t so lucky. His leg stuck between bike and pavement, he spun into a parked car. Paul and his bike hit hard enough to lift the rusted car and wedge part-way underneath.

On the opposite side of the street, Aidan had rolled under a parked pickup truck.

The minute Aidan disappeared, the Maserati slammed into the side of the truck. It missed him by a millisecond, spewing sparks into the air.

The back wheel of Frankie’s bike slid out to the side, twirling until we faced the scene we’d left behind. We skidded to a stop and it jostled my insides.

The Maserati shot past us in a blur and I turned my head to see it screech around the corner and out of sight. Smoke had filled the air and I breathed through my mouth to combat the overwhelming stench of burning rubber and exhaust.

It took a second or two for me to realize I could get off the bike.

Using Frankie for leverage, I swung my legs. In my urgency to get to Aidan, I nearly tangled them on the seat. My legs wobbled as if molded from gelatin and I struggled to jog towards the pick-up truck without eating pavement.

The dented, scratched metal glared in the streetlight. The driver’s side door would be impossible to open. The center was caved in and shattered glass had fallen onto the pavement.

Aidan hadn’t come out yet and I felt a chill at that fact.

Dropping to my haunches to avoid the glass, I anticipated the worst.

It was dark under the truck and I could make out the outline of Aidan’s body near the sidewalk.

In the shadow, I saw eyes blinking at me.

Touching my chest with my hand I wheezed. “Aidan, can you move?”

After a pause and several rapid blinks of those eyes, he shifted his arms and legs slowly, testing each digit in his hand.

“Nothing’s broken,” he said, his voice soft and far away.

Pounding footsteps behind me straightened my spine.

Turning, I saw Read as he skidded to a stop and dropped to the pavement beside me. Seeing Aidan he breathed out a half-laugh, half-sigh of relief. “Shit dude, I thought it hit you.”

Rolling, Aidan drew himself closer to us. Read and I shuffled back, pushing glass out of the way with our feet.

Aiden stopped in mid-roll. His eyes glazed and I could see the damage for the first time. A nasty gash on one leg had torn a hole in his jeans, exposing the bloodied combination of skin and gravel. I couldn’t tell how deep it might be. I only saw the blood soak into a deep, unhealthy crimson.

A cut within his hairline had left matted blood to the left side of his head, trickling a few droplets across his temple. The one day he decided to make his hair look presentable and it was twisted and spiked all over again.

“Crap,” Read muttered. “Dude is there anything broken?”

I shook my head at Read, but said to Aidan. “Stay awake, alright? Don’t fall asleep.”

Aidan muttered something before looking down at his bloodied leg. His languid eyes almost shut and I patted his arm. His t-shirt was ripped as well. Along the shoulder there were minor scrapes from the pavement, nothing any of us hadn’t endured as children.

“We have to find something to clean his leg,” I said to Read. Then I asked Aidan. “Can you stand?”

Aidan flexed his wounded leg and nodded. “It’s not broken.” As if remembering what had just happened he jerked his head up and asked, suddenly alert. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah, it’s gone.” Read bent over and put Aidan’s arm around his neck helping him to his feet. The little bits of glass tinkled from his clothes and Aidan staggered before leaning against the pickup.

Breathing in deeply, Aidan pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “That sucked.”

I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of Paul.

Bloodied streaks led to his motionless body, still trapped beneath the bike and half under one of the parked cars.

Behind us, Frankie remained seated on his bike, he was staring at Viper who was dismounting hers like a sleepwalker. She didn’t seem interested in anything other than the damage on her motorbike.

Aidan winced as Read helped him hobble onto the sidewalk.

No one spoke as we edged farther up the street and watched the bikers talk. They no longer seemed interested in us. If we were lucky, they’d forget long enough for us to get away.

Shuffling along the sidewalk, I listened for the motorbikes to roar to life; for them to give chase. There was no sign, even as we rounded the corner and ducked out of sight. I peeked one last time to see them distracted in conversation.

“What happened?” I whispered half-way down the second block.

“I just said that this was a nightmare.” Aidan cringed. “Then the bike slowed down and the car hit us.”

“But, you’re okay?”

Aidan bared teeth as he grumbled. “It’s just a scrape.”

“No need to get all macho on us, Aidan,” I whispered.

He narrowed a pointed stare at me before testing his leg. He could walk on it easier if he used Read for support, otherwise it was a slow and visible limp. “Nora,” he said, looking down, “this isn’t some fancy, happy story where if we work together everything will work out. We’d be naive to think that. Instead, let’s focus on getting out alive, huh?”

I blinked in surprise.
I was being naive?

I wasn’t sure how to respond when the glacial eyes met mine.

Uncertain, I offered to walk on Aidan’s other side so he could brace himself between Read and me, but Aidan refused.

Hurt, I backed away.

It made me feel awkward and estranged from the two of them, as if
I
were the outsider.

Falling back a few steps, I let them move ahead and kept a watch behind us. I didn’t need his judgment right now. I looked to Read but found no support.

“It’s about time,” Read said.

To our left was a darkened alley littered with garbage, but beyond all the discarded rubble and shadows was our salvation.

In the center of the alley was a wooden fence that had to be eight-feet tall between the two stone apartment buildings. Within the fence was a black door, illuminated from the light of a first floor apartment.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t dream, Read,” Aidan said as we wove our way around the dumpsters and strewn cardboard boxes.

Read smirked, flashing his ridiculously white teeth. “Yeah, you two are messed up.”

Story of my life.

The door slammed shut behind us.

The bang rang in my ears long after the door disappeared, leaving purple and black striped wallpaper.

Read muttered, “Is this where Goths come to die?” He nudged me.

We stood at the edge of an oak table that was almost too big for the dark dining room.

Illuminating the space was a black candelabra situated on a white doily that took up most of the table. A matching oak cabinet was stuffed in the corner, encasing dark-colored dishes, vases and goblets. There was barely enough room to sidle around the table and chairs.

The only escape was an archway leading to a dark, could-be-kitchen.

Distracted from the decor, I saw Read help Aidan into the high-backed chair at the end of the table.

Easing into a sitting position, Aidan gripped the armrests hard and stretched out his injured leg gradually with a sigh of relief.

Read stepped back and I rounded the chair. My hip brushed the wall before I crouched to inspect Aidan’s leg. I had to squint to make out the gravel-infested divots.

Aidan’s lips creased in what could have been a smile…‌or maybe a grimace. “God forbid there be anything bright and peppy around here.”

Read grinned. “It’s Mary Poppins’s house on depressants.”

I hummed
A Spoonful of Sugar
before rolling a rock free from Aidan’s punctured skin.

The boys snickered until Aidan jolted in his chair in pain.

“Alcohol abuse jokes aside…‌” I plucked larger chunks of rock and pavement from the wound, hearing them sprinkle the carpet. “I need to wash this out.”

Aidan hissed through his teeth, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

I shook my head. “No,” I answered truthfully, “but at least I’m trying.” Resentment gurgled just below the surface. What if he couldn’t run without one of us carrying him? This could kill us all and he had the nerve to ask if my help was worth it?

Standing, I avoided his eyes so he wouldn’t see the anger and turned to the only doorway in the room.

From where I stood it appeared to be a kitchen though there were no lights other the candelabra to prove otherwise. “Be right back,” I grumbled. Then I added, “Don’t wander off.”

Aidan snorted, though it didn’t sound sarcastic, rather amused.

Read followed me to the doorway and leaned against it so he could watch us both.

The room wasn’t very big and to my relief, there was a lantern on the nearest counter. The flame had been drawn down low, making it difficult to see the rest of the room.

Ducking so my face was inches from the tin base, I adjusted the gas lever the way we’d done back at the Victorian house, and the flame rose to life. Blinking back the dancing dots, I snagged the metal handle and lifted it above my head.

It was a kitchen alright, with raspberry counter-tops, black cupboards and an island where the lantern had been sitting.

Rounding the cupboard, I opened a stiff drawer in search of a rag, dishtowel, paper towel; anything to help remove the gravel. The first drawer held thick butcher knives. One was splattered with a dark crust.

Shoving the drawer closed, I heard the utensils clattering together.
What the hell had been chopped up in this kitchen?
Paranoid, I turned around in a full circle. No other door was visible in the room. There was a window over the sink behind thinning curtains. The only other doorway was where Read watched me. “What is it?” He asked, jutting his chin in a nod.

“Nothing,” I lied.

The kitchen was a mess. Pots lined the cupboards near the window. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling and some of the leaves had sprinkled the raspberry counter.

“Is Aidan still in there?” I asked past the lump in my throat.

Read nodded, arms crossed over his thin chest.

“What?” Aidan’s voice came from the dining room. He was just out of my line of sight, which made me nervous.

“Just making sure you haven’t run away,” I said and went to the next drawer revealing broken bottles and a moldy pancake.

“Oh har-har, funny,” Aidan said. “What’s taking so long?”

Read pushed away from the doorway. “I’ll help.”

I sighed, not wanting Read to lose sight of Aidan, and opened the next drawer. It had dish towels decorated with red flowers. “I got it,” I drew the towel out, waving it like a flag, keeping Read in place. I pivoted on my heels to face the sink. The motion made me well aware of the tightness in my swollen knee.

With the help of the lantern, I inspected the swelling. It didn’t seem to be getting any worse, but it wasn’t any better either. The continuous throb I felt from the heat of the bike was gone again, leaving a faint stiffness in my skin. Maybe that meant the poison was going away. Not all scorpions’ stings were fatal to humans after all. I should count my lucky stars, if I had any left.

Lifting the lantern back over my head I saw the sink was brimming with dirty pots and pans. As I turned to say something to Read, my foot slid on something slick. Yelping, I swung both arms out and caught the island with my free hand. The lantern emerged unscathed.

As I righted my balance, my somewhat steadier foot supported all my weight.

Following my elephantine display of stealth, Aidan called uncertainly. “Is everyone okay?”

Read was around the counter in seconds and grabbed my elbow to help me stand straight again. I lifted the flickering lantern to see the floor near the sink. There was a strange lime-colored liquid. It reminded me of dish soap.

“I’m ok,” I call backed to reassure Aidan. “I just slipped in…‌goo.” I wiped my defiled sneaker on the cupboard.

“What the hell is that?” Read leaned over and stared, palms propped on his thighs.

Tip-toeing past it, I muttered. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

Jerkily, I twisted the tap and green water burst from the spout. Reeling back a few steps in disgust, I managed to avoid the goo, but dropped the towel onto the floor. The backs of my knees banged into something solid, making a gong-like sound. Already moving too fast, I had little time to react.