Demonica (6 page)

I stopped. Almost involuntarily, as if my legs had forgotten how to be legs. Like, walking? What’s that shit all about? I nearly tripped in the process, but my shock was so overwhelming that it was impossible to feel embarrassed. Instead, I turned around and met Dante with my best if-this-is-a-joke-I-will-kill-you look.

Now I’m no expert in interpreting microexpression, but from what I could tell, Dante’s eyes were glazed in truth.

I wanted to say something sarcastic or cynical to this because it was obviously the joke of the century. All that came out was: “Huh?”

And then it made sense. I heard him wrong. I had to have. Me? A Demon Slayer? Ha! What a laugh! Good one, Dante. Screw you, but good one. You really had me going there. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever…

Even as I thought this, I realized that nothing was really ridiculous in comparison to everything that happened last night. Mysteriously-appearing castles, werewolves, Demons…

Monica, you have the power to summon a special dagger.

You’re the one.

Sweet, merciful mother of fuck.

Dante’s words crashed down on me like one of those falling pianos in cartoons. I could barely comprehend what was happening, let alone speak. Dante took the liberty to break the silence.

“The dagger you summoned last night is called a Demon Dagger,” he said. “You’re a chosen vessel with the divine ability to destroy Demons. I knew what you were the moment you saw me through that restaurant window. Only a true Demon Slayer has the eyes to see a Demonic spirit without making a Deal.”

I blinked, hoping that this delusional explanation would suddenly make sense. Like. It would just turn into a conversation about the weather or something. It didn’t. So I responded the only way I knew how.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

“You’re not shitting me.”

“Yep.”

“What am I supposed to say to something like that?”

“Um. Say you’ll do it? That’s what I’m leaning towards.”

“I don’t even know how to kill a spider! And you expect me to slay Demons?”

“I’m not asking you to hunt Demons today. I’m asking you to create a list of suspects. Any students or teachers who seem slightly suspicious. Believe me. Amon aside, Demons are very reserved and strategic thinkers. It’s always a game of chess for us. We’ve got to move our pawns before the game really starts. We always size up our opponents before we attack.”

“Lovely. So I’m your pawn, huh?”

“No.” Dante’s face was dead serious. “I’m moving the queen early.”

Fuck chess.

“Great,” I said. “Anything else you want me to do?”

“Well, since you asked, it’d be nice if you got us invited to a party this weekend.”

“Listen, smartass, if you’re not going to be serious—”

“Miss! Sassy! Pants!” Dante exclaimed. “Chill the hell out, okay? I am
totally
serious about this party thing. Parties bring teenagers. Teenagers bring Demonic spirits. I know. I am one. What can I say? Partying is contagious.”

“You’re a Demon,” I said rather stupidly. When Dante cocked his head with a mixture of confusion and amusement, I quickly added, “I mean…why are you helping me? A Demon? Helping…a Demon Slayer? It doesn’t make sense.”

Dante sauntered down the entryway steps. “Let’s just say that not all Demons are buddy-buddy. Amon and the other Demons here…I
used
to be close to them. Then they left me for dead.”

I definitely wasn’t expecting that. For the first time, something crossed Dante’s face. Pain? Fear? Anger? I didn’t know what it was, but it was something big and apparently buried deep. He quickly blinked it away, refixing his gaze on me. Emotionless. Humorless.

“I’m different now,” said Dante. “I’m not like them anymore. And I will do anything it takes to destroy them.”

This kept getting weirder and weirder. Revenge? This whole thing about revenge?

“Anything,” said Dante. “Just as I’m sure you’ll do whatever it takes to protect your brother.”

Dammit. He just
had
to play that card. My lips pressed into a hard, straight line. I swallowed against the knot in my throat.

“Okay. I’ll do it. But under one condition.”

“Which is…?”

“After school. You explain everything. And I mean
everything
.”

Dante smiled. Not a devious smile or even his usual sarcastic smile. He extended his right hand—the same one we had mixed blood with—and locked it with mine.

“Deal.”

“AhAHahAHahAHahWHATAREYOUDOINGINMYROOM?”

Just like that. One fucking word. Or scream, or moan, or battle cry, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. I don’t think there was even a word for it. I think just I invented this daring new form of communication.

Dante rolled to my side of the bed, hands tucked behind his head. “I’m the alarm clock with no snooze button,” he said. “Cock-a-doodle-doo.”

“I hate you. Die, please.”

“Wow. Harsh.”

“Do you know what a stalker is?”

“Hey, nobody gives that sparkly Edgar guy crap about watching girls all night in their sleep. They all think it’s romantic.”

“Yeah, and he’s also a fictional character. And his name’s not Edgar.”

“Blah, blah, blah, I’m an angsty little teenager, blah-dee-dah-dee-dah. Get ready for school. I’m ready when you are.”

It didn’t realize it until now. He wasn’t wearing his black suit and tie. Instead, he was sporting a v-neck shirt, faded boot-cut jeans, and leather flip-flops. What was the point? Nobody could see him except me.

Dante decided to take a nap on my bed while I got ready. At least he pretended to. I somehow had my doubts that Demons actually slept.

I took my clothes with me to the bathroom.

After showering and changing, I did not even bother going back into my room. Instead, I went straight downstairs to the kitchen. The moment I rounded the corner, I cringed. My mom was busy making coffee. My dad had his face tucked behind a newspaper.

Dante sat between them, glancing at the opposite page of the paper.

“Well, looks like the Dow Jones is up,” said Dante. He plucked a half-strip of bacon from my dad’s plate and popped the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes bugged out. “Oh. My. God.” he said though a full mouth. “This bacon is to die for. Misses Binsfeld, you are an artist.”

My mom glanced up as she noticed me. Her face creased with concern. “You’re not planning on going to school today, are you?”

My dad lowered his paper, mirroring her disapproval. “Monica…”

“I have stuff that I really need to do today,” I said—perhaps a little too hastily. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be going unless I felt one hundred percent fine.”

What a lie.

Surprisingly, my parents didn’t argue. Although my dad did cast a curious second glance at his plate, wondering where his bacon went. Because both my brother’s Jeep and my Camry were still parked rather inconveniently at the Saint Salazar Cemetery, I was forced to hitch a ride to school with my mom. It was a quiet drive, even with Dante feeling the need to tag along in the back seat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” said Mom.

Though her focus was on the road ahead, she cast a sideways glance at me. This was more than just a courtesy question. Her face was painted in worry.

“Uh…yeah,” I said. “I’m great.”

Double lie.

My mom didn’t respond right away. Her expression was solemn and even contemplative as she drove.

“When I was your age, I got into a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have,” she said. “I didn’t think that I could talk to my mom about it. And…I wish I did.”

She paused, and in that brief moment of silence, I panicked. You know that moment when your mom suddenly seems to have the inexplicable ability to peer inside your soul? Yeah. That’s what this felt like. She knew something.

“I know that you are so much better behaved than I was,” she said. “You’re the sweetest little angel I know, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your mom. I mean it. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder and more loving daughter. But sometimes we get mixed up in things that are out of our control. I just…I want you to know that you can always talk to me. I don’t care how bad or crazy it may seem. Okay?”

This woman was officially way too intuitive for her own good.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. I forced this constipated, bullshit smile that was becoming harder to fake.

Oddly enough, I found myself equally bothered with something else, and I needed a good subject change at the moment.

“Do you think I’m
too
nice?” I asked.

“
Too
nice?” said Mom. “I don’t think there’s such thing as
too
nice. That’s like complaining that there’s too much ice cream.”

I smiled at this response.

“Of course I always seem to get a brain freeze when I eat ice cream too fast,” she said. “And it tends to give me acid reflux.”

My smile faded.

At last we arrived at Villeneuve High—not a particularly large high school, but not a small one either. Despite its bland, stereotypical style, Dante appeared clearly fascinated. I gave my mom a brief hug before rushing out the door. Only a moment later, Dante appeared beside me.

“Man, is there a Demon aura buzzing around this place,” said Dante. “I can practically taste it.”

“That’s great,” I said. My mouth pinched shut as we passed through crowds of students. Somehow, despite being tangible though our blood-mixing, Dante passed through dozens of oblivious students like a wisp of smoke.

“Monica!”

I didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Zoey. In a black and blue follicle explosion, she nearly crashed into me. She grabbed me by both arms and the verbal typhoon unleashed. “Monica, are you okay? I was so worried about you! What happened? Is Casey okay? I just saw your mom drop you off. What happened to your car?”

Before I could even process Zoey’s interrogation rape, I was distracted by Dante. This wouldn’t have been unusual, considering his promising track record. Except this time it wasn’t anything he was doing on purpose. Instead, he raised one hand to his head. Like he was struck by a sudden migraine. The other hand followed. Together, they pressed against his temples. He winced, shrinking against some invisible pain.

“Monica?” said Zoey.

My attention snapped back to reality. Zoey had her head cocked to the side. Black and blue hair spilled across her shoulder. Highlighted in heavy eyeliner, the concern in her gaze was obvious.

“I gotta go,” said Dante. A swirl of black mist swallowed him. He vanished before I could even blink.

“Monica!”

“Sorry, I…sorry.” I struggled to make eye contact with my best friend, halfway expecting Dante to return out of nowhere. “I’m just a little out of it today.”

“I’ll say,” said Zoey. She cocked her head to the other side. “So what happened?”

If there was ever a Nobel Peace Prize for lying, I would totally own that shit. Zoey’s eyes bugged out, especially as I recounted the epic “bear” chase, and how we barely escaped with our lives and yada yada yada, I’m an adrenaline-enhanced supergirl. Zoey gasped. Her hands clasped over her mouth as I informed her of Casey’s injuries and his hospitalization.

“Is he okay?” Her voice was a whisper, as if speaking aloud might make his condition worse.

“He regained consciousness before we left. Casey’s tough. He’ll be alright.”

I really wished I could believe half the bull I was shitting out of my mouth. It was almost easier to pretend it was the truth. Hell, it made lying easier.

“I sure hope he’s alright,” said Zoey. She bit her lower lip. However, in true Zoey-fashion, she forced this pained expression into a “FUCK YOU, PAIN!” smile. “Can’t have my future husband dying on me now, can we?”

I smiled at Zoey’s optimism. “Of course not.”

Zoey pulled me into a tight hug and kissed me on the cheek. “Love you, girl. I’ve got to run, but we’ll talk more about Prince Charming later, okay?”

I stupidly glanced down at my wrist, only to realize (for the umpteenth time) that I wasn’t wearing a watch. Truthfully, I hadn’t worn a watch since sixth grade, when pretty little Lilith Hartley teased me about how dorky it was. I’ve steered clear of watches
and
certain blonde bitches ever since.

“Class is starting already?” I asked.

“Nah, I just have some stuff I need to take care of first,” said Zoey.

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“Oh, you know. Just…stuff.”

“Please, don’t overwhelm me with the details.”

“I know, I try. See you at lunch, okay?”

“Yeah…” I said, but Zoey was already power-walking toward the entrance. I was left standing rather stupidly on Villeneuve High’s front lawn, wondering with a vacant stare why my life had taken such a sudden turn for the strange

“Well that was weird,” said Dante.

I whipped around to find the Demon behind me. He was facing the school entrance as well, mimicking my less-than-thought-provoking expression.

“What’s weird?” I asked. “I mean, aside from you making stupid faces and disappearing for no apparent reason.”

“Your friend.” With that, Dante started walking towards the busy entryway.

“Zoey?” I said. I took a few hasty steps to catch up with him. “What about her?”

“You asked me what was weird. She is.”

I was one of those few people in the universe built with a strong immunity to condescending sarcasm. Not that it didn’t bother me. I was just really good at keeping my damn mouth shut. Whether it was Casey’s injury or the sudden Demon-chase I was being thrown into, who knew, but Dante was successfully pushing against my very last nerve.

“Hey, asshole. That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

“I’m not talking about high-school-weird, Miss Sassy Pants. I’m talking about
weird
-weird.”

I nearly tripped on the Holy Shit that he was insinuating. “Wait. You don’t mean she’s a…a…?”

“A what?” said Dante. “A Demon? Hardly.”

My face flushed a similar shade as my hair. “Well, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Just because she’s not a Demon doesn’t mean she’s one hundred percent human either.”