The Demon Notebook (10 page)

Rachel simply grinned in reply but, as she bounced the ball between her legs, her hand unexpectedly missed it on the return. It flew upward, catching her on the chin with such force that she stumbled, tripped, and kicked the ball right out of the court. She slid to a stop on her knees, wincing with pain as her skin was grazed badly.

“Uh-oh,” said Grace.

The crowd was suddenly quiet, disappointed by the abrupt break in the spectacular sporting feats. Rachel was equally disappointed but climbed to her feet seemingly determined to continue.

“Say you're hurt,” Grace muttered to herself. “A sprained ankle. Say you've a sprained ankle.
Come
on
, Rach!”

But even if Rachel had heard her friend, Grace knew she wouldn't have conceded. She was obviously having far too much fun being queen of the court, and she wasn't about to give in. She ignored the Agnes captain's crooked sneer and got back into the game.

But, within minutes, it was clear that the spell had run its course. Rachel became red-cheeked and sweating as she fumbled the ball again and again. The fickle, embittered crowd started booing. Her own team, delighted by her sudden ineptitude, constantly passed her the ball, triggering one embarrassing blunder after another and more points for the opposing team.

Even worse than Saint John's team not caring about the score was the fact that the Agnes team seemed determined to settle an entirely different score altogether. Led by their relentless captain, they took every opportunity to plow into Rachel at full speed, knocking her to the ground countless times and earning stern words and occasional foul calls from the referee. But still the carnage continued.

By the time the referee announced an ultimatum, threatening to end the game if there was any more roughhousing, Rachel was a quivering wreck. She barely heard the whistle to restart play, only focusing on the wall of Agnes players that rushed toward her when it was too late. Kelly had kindly tossed the ball at her, which bounced off her stomach, before the Agnes captain barreled into her, landing heavily on top of her as Rachel hit the floor. The rest of the team followed suit, and soon she was buried, gasping for air, beneath the snickering pile of girls. The referee gave the whistle a final, piercing blow.

Smiling widely as the referee and Mr. O'Dwyer shouted stern words about the importance of safety during inter-school games, the Agnes girls got to their feet and strolled leisurely to the locker rooms, leaving Rachel lying still, and sobbing, on the ground. Grace and the others ran to their injured friend.

“God, Rachel, are you okay?” Grace said, gently taking her friend's arm and helping her to her feet.

“I think so,” Rachel sniffed, cradling one side of her face. “Think my knee's sprained. And my face got a good hit.”

A painful welt was already emerging on Rachel's cheek.

“You all right, Rachel?” Mr. O'Dwyer said flatly, coming over to inspect her wounds.

“Hurt my leg, sir,” she said, attempting to smile. “I don't think I'll be able to stay on the team.”

“Oh, eh, that's okay. We'll, eh, we'll have to manage without you. Make sure you get some ice on that bruise, okay?”

“How relieved was he?” Rachel muttered as he walked off. “Now that I'm garbage at basketball again.”

“Not to worry,” said Jenny brightly. “You still had your day in the sun, didn't you?”

“Half a game,” Rachel said, still holding her swelling cheek. “I had half a game in the sun and then I got humiliated in front of the
whole
school. It's not fair.”

“No, it's not,” Grace agreed. “But what
has
been fair since this whole nightmare started? I'm really sorry, Rach. I hope you're not too upset.”

“I'll live,” Rachel groaned, catching a glimpse of her swollen face in the gym office window. “But no concealer's going to cover up
that
. Come on. Let's get out of here. I'll get changed at home. Don't want to run into that ogre from Saint Agnes. Or anyone from our team, come to think of it.”

“Sure. I'll get your stuff,” said Grace.

She ran ahead to the changing room, leaving Adie and Jenny to escort their limping friend out of the gym.

The next two days turned out to be the worst, so far, since the whole sorry business had begun. Rachel fended off abuse from Kelly and the rest of the basketball team, not to mention random students who had watched her stellar performance turn dismal on the court. Grace continued to deflect the blind affections of James O'Connor, who appeared to be getting more and more upset by her endless rejections. And all four of the girls avoided the spine-chilling politeness of the non-Una, certain that at any moment she would drop the façade, not to mention another wall of lockers.

By Friday afternoon, they were utterly exhausted.

“I can't do this anymore,” Adie moaned. “How long is this going to go on? Where's the red scarf?”

“I don't know,” Grace replied. “But I'm not looking forward to seeing it. Opening a well full of demons? I can wait a lifetime before having to do that.”

“I'd rather that than this,” Adie said. “This waiting is horrible. And everyone at school hates us now, since the basketball game.”

“Thanks,” said Rachel.

“Sorry.”

“I'm with Adie.” Jenny sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Well, then,” said Grace, “let's go check the hedge.”

They walked out together to the football field. The red scarf was there at last, flapping crazily in the breeze. The girls pushed their way through the hedge, untying the scarf as they went.

The door in Wilton Place was left ajar. They went straight in and down the hall to the kitchen where the Old Cat Lady stood waiting.

“All righty,” said Mrs. Quinlan, leaning both hands on the table. “Let's begin.”

“It looks complicated,” said Jenny, eyeing the selection of small cloth bags and porcelain containers laid out in front of her.

“It
is
complicated,” replied the woman. “So pay attention. If you mess this up, you're in big trouble.”

“There's no need to get mad at us,” Adie whined. “We'll do the best we can.”

“I mean you're in big trouble with the
demons
, twit, not
me
. Leave your brain at home, did you?”

“Sorry.”

“Can I go on now?” said Mrs. Quinlan. “Or are there going to be any more pointless interruptions?”

She paused for a moment, then nodded and returned to the matter at hand.

“First of all, we have some banishing potions. They're the ones in the little cloth bags. As I said before, for the duration of the incantation, up until the very end when the well mouth becomes a Dyson, the occasional demon may be slipping through. Before it grabs hold of someone in this realm, it's not very strong. It can be banished quite easily by showering it in this stuff.”

She picked up one of the bags and held it at either end of the bow that kept it tied shut.

“In order to administer the potion, one grabs hold of the bag like so, forcefully pulling apart these two ties. The bundle will open, and the powder inside will disperse, hopefully all over your demon, which will then be banished back home. Try and aim it well, and don't get any of the powder in your eyes. All clear so far?”

The girls nodded solemnly.

“If you are slow and stupid, which my experience of you tells me you are, and you fail to banish the demon at this early stage, it may succeed in grabbing hold of one of you. We then move on to the porcelain cups.”

Grace gulped and took a deep breath, paying close attention to the woman's instructions.

“Full possession is a process that can take up to a minute. One can spot a person possessed by the eyes, which take on an unusual and luminous color. During these crucial seconds, the demon is not yet properly seated and can be ejected by the use of this clever little potion. Smash the container at the unfortunate person's feet and repeat the word
exitus
three times.”

“That doesn't sound too difficult,” said Rachel.

“The
difficult
part of this procedure is ensuring that the potion is inhaled by the subject. When thrown to the ground, the potion sublimates into a thin smoke. The subject must be held still over this smoke until it is, at least, partially inhaled. When the eyes have returned to their normal color, the demon has been evacuated.”

“What happens,” Grace asked tentatively, “if we don't get the subject to inhale the smoke before the demon is…properly
seated
?”

“Then, my dear, you have doubled your trouble. You'll be down one useless, stupid schoolgirl, and up one scary possessed demon-child.”

“Oh.”

“And now to the main event.”

Mrs. Quinlan opened a cupboard behind her and pulled out a large bowl, filled to the brim with a dark purple substance, of which the girls could already catch an unpleasant whiff.

“Ick!” said Rachel. “It smells
gross
!”

“Well, get used to it,” said the woman, planting the bowl in the center of the table and securing a Tupperware lid over it, “because you'll be covering your face and hands in this stuff.”

“
What?!
Why?”

“Because that's what the incantation requires. You four become the poles—north, south, east, and west—you become the mechanics of the changing state of the well mouth. So to speak.”

“Fantastic,” said Jenny.

“I have prepared the necessary verse, to be spoken by the North Pole,” said Mrs. Quinlan.

“We have to go to the Arctic?” exclaimed Adie, confused.

“To be spoken by the
person
who
represents
the North Pole,” said Mrs. Quinlan through gritted teeth. “You're giving me a headache.”

“I see,” said Adie, red-faced.

“Here's a small diagram outlining the necessary positions you each have to take around the mouth of the well,” the woman continued. “Smear the concoction on your faces and hands, say the verse, and wait for the incantation to run its course.”

“And deal with any demons that pop out in the meantime.” Grace frowned.

“Indeedio.”

“How will we know when it's over?”

“Oh, you'll know.”

“And how will we know if it's worked?”

“Find your friend,” the woman replied. “If she's still possessed, it didn't work. If she's back to normal, it did.”

Grace sighed, slid the plastic bowl of purple gunk across the table, and picked it up. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell.

“What's in that stuff?” asked Adie.

“Oh, lots of things,” said Mrs. Quinlan. “Herbs and soils, insects and fish parts, a little excrement, a frog's heart, some eggshell—”

“Where did you get a frog's heart?”

“From a walrus. Twit.”

The old woman gathered the smaller potions together and placed them in a large tweed bag.

“Now, take good care of these brews,” she warned. “And if you're not using it until Monday, keep the purple stuff in the fridge.”

“My mom's going to love that,” muttered Grace.

***

Monday lunchtime was the only conceivable time that the girls could perform the incantation. They needed to ensure that the non-Una would be in the building, that teachers and students would not be coming in and out of classrooms, and that they would have time to complete the process without missing any classes and bringing attention to their activities. Luckily, being the newest, farthest away part of the school, the P block had not yet become a popular haunt for any regular groups during the lunch hour. With any luck, the girls wouldn't be disturbed.

“Ugh!” Jenny exclaimed, as Grace pulled the lid off the bowl of congealed purple gloop. “That smells even worse than it did on Friday. Did you keep it in the fridge, like Old Cat Lady said?”

“Yes, I did,” snapped Grace, reeling from the stench herself. “And my mom wasn't too impressed. I had to tell her it was for a science experiment. Not sure she believed me.”

“Do we really have to spread that stuff all over our faces?”

“Yes,” Grace replied firmly. “We're going to do exactly what Mrs. Quinlan said. This needs to work. And try not to drip it onto the floor.”

“Who's worried about getting in trouble with the janitor when we've got a potential bunch of demons on our hands?” said Jenny.

“I'm worried. We don't need anybody asking questions about this stuff.”

“Right,” said Rachel, stooping tenderly down to kneel on her uninjured leg and marking the carpet with a piece of chalk. “Here's where we all have to stand. Grace, you're at the top there. Adie, you're opposite her and Jenny's opposite me. Everyone ready to go?”

The others nodded in unison, then reluctantly scooped up handfuls of the purple goo and began smearing it over their faces.

“I think I'm going to be sick!” Adie retched.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Grace mumbled, trying desperately not to inhale the stench, “and careful not to get it in your eyes.”

Standing on their markers, they looked at each other with apprehension.

“I'd just like to point out,” said Jenny, holding her purple-stained hands out in front of her, “how completely ridiculous we look.” No one argued. “I just hope that crazy Old Cat Lady isn't playing us for a bunch of fools.”

“Me too,” said Grace, “because if she is, we can say good-bye to Una forever.”

“Not to mention the Beast,” said Adie.

“Let's get started then,” Rachel interjected. “Grace?”

Grace took out a crumpled piece of paper with Mrs. Quinlan's scribbled verse and cleared her throat.

“We stand above an open portal,

Linking demon realm and mortal,

East and West and North and South,

Will alter, now, this hellish mouth.

Take back our uninvited guest,

And rid us of this wicked pest,

What's yours is yours, call back your kind,

And grant to us our peace of mind.”

Deep in the ground, far beneath their feet, a low rumbling began. The sound grew and grew, and soon they could feel the vibrations tingling through their bodies. Small drops of foul-smelling purple gunk dripped from their faces and hands as the floor trembled underneath them.

“Does this mean it's working?” whispered Adie.

“Shh!” Grace hissed. “Keep your eyes open!”

They held their positions around the well, keeping their eyes peeled for any hint of unwanted visitors. The trembling continued until there was a sudden and violent movement in the air. The floor didn't budge, but the girls felt a rapid drop, like they were flying down the track of a giant roller coaster. They struggled to stay on their feet and fought back the urge to be sick as the motion, coupled with the fetid stench of the potion, turned their stomachs. Everything began to shift from side to side then, forcing the girls to grab on to one another to keep from falling. Rachel flinched in pain, leaning heavily on Adie's arm.

“I can't stay standing!” she yelled. “Grace!”

“Just hold on!” Grace shouted, squeezing her eyes shut against the overpowering nausea.

“No!” Adie screamed. “It's…it's one of
them
!”

Grace opened her eyes. Adie was staring, terrified, at the center of their circle. A thin, dark swirl of mist curled up from the floor, formed a handlike shape, and gripped the carpet with its claws. A second hand grabbed on, dragging up a pair of shoulders, like a fallen climber hauling himself over the edge of a cliff.

“Jenny! The little bags!” shouted Grace.

Jenny let go of Grace and rummaged in her pockets. Pulling out one of the cloth bags, she held the ties in both hands.

“Watch your feet!” Adie shrieked.

Jenny looked down just in time to see the demon lunge for her ankle. She fell over backward, kicking her feet into the air and smacking onto the ground hard enough to make her teeth rattle in her head. The bag slid across the floor, finally stopping near the exit.

“Get another one,” Grace cried. “Quick!”

Jenny snatched another bag from her pocket and sat up, with her head still spinning, gripping the ties in both hands. Leaning forward, she wrenched the ties apart and shut her eyes against the falling powder. The others watched the fine dust settle over the demon, now visible up to the waist. It opened its mouth in a silent scream as the particles landed on it in tiny burning fires. They dissolved the shrieking creature until nothing remained but a small dark patch on the carpet. Meanwhile, the deep underground rumbling continued.

“It's not over yet!” Grace gasped, grabbing hold of Jenny's arm as she rejoined the circle. “Keep watching, everyone!”

Jenny's lip trembled as she spotted another gathering of dark mist in the same spot.

“There!” She pointed, already fishing another bag out of her pocket.

Yanking the ties apart, she looked down to watch the dust settle, but the demon was too fast. It lashed out with its misty hand, snatching Rachel's ankle. The dark powder singed its surface, but then rolled uselessly down its back. Jenny gazed in horror as the creature dragged itself out of the floor and pushed its face into Rachel's shin. Little by little, it disappeared and Rachel's eyes turned a deep, luminous shade of green.