Demonosity (10 page)

C
assidy tentatively opened one eye on Monday morning as a weak beam of sunshine slipped into her room and she groggily realized that she hadn’t drawn her curtains properly last night. She groaned and tried to pull a pillow over her head to block out the light, but the effort of moving her arms caused her to wince in pain. She hurt. A lot.

Then she let out an even longer groan as she recalled exactly why she hurt. Turned out that knife throwing was a picnic compared to sword fighting, and after drilling and yelling at her for an hour on how to block a weapon, Thomas had made her spar with him. And despite the fact he wasn’t even really there, he kept pressing forward so much that she had found herself falling backward over the log Nash had been sitting on the previous day. As if she needed any more bruises.

It was also why, when Thomas had suggested another training session this morning, Cassidy had been quick to insist that she needed a chance to recover. She ignored her aching body and scrambled to her feet, hoping that a shower might relieve some of her aches and pains, but after letting hot water sluice over her bruised, cut skin, she felt worse than ever and limped back to her room, only to discover that there were already three text messages waiting for her.

Two were from Reuben, which she deleted. Apparently, in Crazy Reuben World, her asking him to keep an eye on Nash on Friday night was tantamount to her saying that she wanted to get back together with him. The third was from Nash, reminding her that he would be around to collect her in half an hour.

Cassidy felt remotely better at the idea of not catching the bus, and she quickly got dressed, trying to ignore the black Audrey Hepburn dress that was balled up in a plastic bag at the back of her closet. It was ruined beyond all recognition, and she would have to throw it out when she had the chance. Once she was finished dressing, she pushed her comforter from the side of the bed so that she could pull her sports bag out from underneath, the steel chain mail making a dragging sound against the wooden floorboards.

Thomas had tried to convince her that she needed to wear her mail at all times, but she had quickly assured him that that would most definitely
not
be happening. Even carrying it to school with her wasn’t ideal, but after recognizing the stubborn set of his full mouth, she realized that he would not concede that point. At least the sports bag didn’t seem as heavy as it had on Saturday, and Cassidy could only assume that whatever superpowers the grimoire had bestowed upon her were finally kicking in.

She silently made her way down the hallway, trying to hold the sports bag so that it didn’t clink as she walked. It was probably the earliest that she’d ever gone to school, but she and Nash had decided last night that the sooner they could start looking out for a virginal vessel who glowed with a bright but deadly beauty, the better.

The plan was to grab some breakfast and get out of the house before her parents were up, since she had hardly been home all weekend, and right now she didn’t really feel like explaining—

“You’re awake early.”

Cassidy let out a groan as her mom poked her head out of the spare bedroom, which she had taken to using as a home office. So much for her plan to slip out of the house before anyone was up.

“I’ve got some things to do before school with Nash,” she said in her most casual voice.

“At seven thirty in the morning?” Her mom raised an eyebrow.

“Pots and kettles, Mom,” Cassidy retorted as she glanced back into the spare bedroom at the desk, which was covered with documents and a laptop that was all fired up and displaying a spreadsheet on its screen.

“No need to get so defensive, Cass.” A flash of hurt flashed across her mom’s face. Then she narrowed her shrewd eyes. “Why are you limping?”

That would be the intense pain that comes from learning how to hold a sword and throw a knife for the last two days,
Cassidy wanted to say, but instead she tightened her grip on the sports bag. “It’s no big deal. I just got hurt in PE. Volleyball. Anyway, I’d better get going. Nash will be here in a moment.”

“Hey, not so fast.” Her mom held up her hand. “I hardly saw you over the weekend, and you never told me how the party was on Friday night.”

Cassidy imagined that her mom was getting her confused with some other teenage daughter, since the number of times that the two of them had sat down and talked about parties was, er,
never
. However, her mom didn’t seem bothered when Cassidy didn’t answer and instead just smiled.

“Thankfully, Reuben came around yesterday afternoon while you were out and told me all about it.”

“He did
what
?” Cassidy exploded in fury before remembering her dad was still asleep. She lowered her voice. “What was he doing here?”

“He came to see you, of course,” her mom said in surprise. “Apparently, he’d been trying to text you all weekend, and you hadn’t been replying. He was worried, Cass. He said you suddenly disappeared from the party and didn’t come back.”

“Did he also tell you that the party got shut down by the police?” Cassidy retorted, while at the same time wondering if she would be allowed to use Thomas’s sword to inflict on Reuben slow, torturous pain. “So since the party was over, Nash and I left. Now I’ve got to go, but please don’t let Reuben think it’s okay to come around to the house, because it’s not.”

For a moment it looked as if her mom was going to say something, but she finally just nodded her head and shrugged. “Fine, if you don’t want my help or advice, then I’ll keep it to myself.”

If only.
However, before she could reply, she heard Nash’s car pulling up, so she mumbled an annoyed good-bye and hurried outside.

“Whoa. You look like you’ve just poured sour milk on your Frosted Flakes,” Nash said as Cassidy put her sports bag in the backseat and climbed in beside him. “What happened?”

“Just the normal
interfering-mother
stuff. Apparently, Reuben came by yesterday, and now my mom thinks that he’s a lovely guy, which just proves how little she knows about anything.”

“Ouch.” Nash pulled a face as he drove down the street. “But I think I have something that will make you feel better.” He nodded to indicate a brown paper bag in the backseat.

Cassidy, who had been so annoyed with her mom that she’d forgotten to grab breakfast, reached for the bag, her stomach churning in anticipation. It probably wouldn’t be a doughnut, because Nash was too healthy for that, but perhaps it would be a bagel or a . . .
bunch of parsley
?

Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure there’s a reason for this, but I’m too tired and sore to figure out what it is.”

“It’s for the amulet ritual that I was talking about with Thomas on Saturday. . . . The one in the grimoire,” Nash elaborated, no doubt in case Cassidy got it confused with another amulet ritual. “I’ve figured out how to consecrate all the instruments, which means that we can try to do it tonight. Do you know what this will mean if it works?”

“That parsley’s a very versatile herb?” Cassidy suggested in a dry voice.

“That we will have a concrete way to prove that science and mysticism are linked,” Nash corrected in a stern voice as he pulled into the half-deserted parking lot. When they got out, Nash reached into the backseat to pick up her sports bag, his handsome face almost turning puce in protest as he tried to lift it. Then his eyes widened as Cassidy grinned and plucked it up like it was filled with feathers. “That’s incredible,” he said.

“I know, right?” she agreed. “Yesterday afternoon I hardly even noticed I was wearing the mail, apart from how difficult it was to get it on by myself. But I seem to be getting stronger. However, instead of being pleased, Thomas merely retorted that it was lucky, since my fighting skills were that of a babe in arms,” she added, her face darkening.

Nash, who had already heard all about the sword fighting, gave her a sympathetic look. “You know he’s just frustrated that he can’t be here to protect the Black Rose himself.”

“Humph,” Cassidy snorted as her aching muscles howled in protest. She ignored the pain as they made their way down the deserted hallway so that Cassidy could drop the sports bag off before anyone decided to question her about what was in it. Especially since some kid had been suspended last month for carrying a switchblade with him. She dreaded to think what would happen if she got busted with a sword and a knife. Definitely not something that would look good on those precious college applications that her mom kept going on about.

As soon as she shut her locker, Nash pulled out a piece of paper and passed it over to her. “Okay, according to Cade’s Facebook page, this is a list who was at the party; it may not be complete, but at least it’s a start. Look, there’s Sam Ridgeway. He was definitely there. Is he glowing?”

Cassidy swung around, but all she saw was a tall jock with overly groomed hair and an attitude. She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Oh, well, there are still a lot more names to go through. Let’s head over to the C-block lockers. There are more seniors there. I’m sure that we’ll find the Black Rose soon.”

However, for probably the first time in his life, Nash was wrong, and despite their prowling the hallways in between their morning classes, there was no sign of any virginal vessels.

By the time the lunch bell rang Cassidy reluctantly headed for the cafeteria. As if she hadn’t suffered enough. It didn’t take her long to make her way into the overcrowded room. Her nose twitched in protest at the greasy smells that clung in the air as she began to scan the crowd.

There was no sign of anyone glowing at her with a bright but terrible beauty; however, she did manage to catch sight of Nash, who was sitting on the far side of the room right next to three big open-topped trash cans, his long legs crammed under the table and a miserable look on his face. She made her way over and joined him.

“Why are you sitting so far away from everyone?”

“Remember how we hate coming in here?” He pushed away the homemade fruit salad he had been picking at, and Cassidy nodded. “Well, there’s a very good reason for that. It’s because the cafeteria’s full of jerkwads who take their social hierarchy
very
seriously, so I guess we’re stuck over here in Siberia for now. Still,” he added in a thoughtful voice, glancing at the nearby trash cans that were already overflowing with oil-laden scraps, “if the vessel doesn’t like the taste of today’s spaghetti, then we might be in luck.”

“Oh.” Cassidy pulled an old apple out of her purse and dusted off the fluff before biting into it. “Well—”

But before she could continue, there was a loud crashing noise behind them. The apple fell from her hand and bounced onto the floor as she grabbed the plastic knife that Nash had been using. She jumped to her feet, while trying to remember everything that Thomas had taught her. But as she spun around, instead of seeing a demon knight looming down on them, all she could see was a ninth grader picking up his lunch tray; suddenly, Cassidy realized that she was standing up in the middle of the cafeteria wielding a plastic knife.

Earth, please, swallow me now.

The ninth grader looked at her like she was a weirdo, and Cassidy sat back down and felt the color rise in her cheeks. Then she wiped her brow as a surge of unnecessary adrenaline pumped through her body, reminding her just how unprepared she was for any of this.

“Are you okay?” Nash looked at her in concern.

“Not really,” she admitted. What if that
had
been a demon knight instead of some random kid? Would she have fought it in the cafeteria in front of everyone? Was that how these things worked? Because if so, she suddenly had a new appreciation for superheroes, who made the whole saving-society thing look so easy. Her throat felt dry as she turned to Nash in horror. “I really don’t think I can do this. It’s—”

“Going to be tough? It’s going to hurt? You’re going to get demon goo on your favorite preloved nana dress?” Nash asked, his calm, familiar voice anchoring her and pushing away the last of her panic. “Yeah, I think so, too. But Cass, for whatever reason, you’re the one who has to do it.”

For a moment Cassidy stared at him before letting out a groan. “You’re just saying that because you want to keep reading the grimoire and talking to Thomas about what it’s like in the fourteenth century.”

“Well, yes, that is true,” Nash ruefully agreed as he squeezed her hand. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not right. You can do this. Trust me, I’m a genius. We will find the Black Rose, and you will do all of your fancy fighting stuff, and it will be fine.”

“What will be fine?” a voice asked, and they both looked up to see Reuben dragging a chair back from the table and slipping his thin frame into it. Today his emo hair was poking up in six chunky spikes, and he had his favorite chain belt on, the one he saved for special occasions. He smiled at them both as if they’d been expecting him.

“Reuben? What are you doing here?” Cassidy blinked.

“What do you mean? I’ve been texting you all day to say I would meet you here, and since you
are
here instead of outside in the freezing cold where you and loser-boy normally sit, then that can only mean one thing. That you feel the same way I do.”