The First Sacrament (The Demons of Stone Chapel Book 1) (7 page)

“I'm not,” I said, pushing myself upright. Wiping my traitorous tears away, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin a defiant fraction. Beatrice Todd didn't cry. Not where other people could see her do it, at least.

...But, God, was it tempting. The safe little lifeboat I managed to crawl my way onto was really starting to take on water. Demons weren't just creatures who lurked in alleyways anymore. They didn’t exist solely in memories of my parents, in breaking newscasts or Rosie’s frail body. They were way,
way
too real and they were getting too close for comfort.

How could I be so stupid?

Aralia's boots clicked across the floor. “Beatrice, you mentioned you heard a scratching noise last night?”

I nodded.

“Then you might want to see this.”

Hurray. More encouraging news. I wondered what horror awaited me behind door number two! I tried to appear as calm as possible as I got to my feet and turned around.

Claw marks, dozens of them gouged in the surface of the far wall. Proof that I wasn't paranoid or crazy. I shuddered to think what would have happened if I'd gone to investigate.

Dante, who'd been standing there in his typical strong-but-silent type way, looked up at the ceiling, then back to me and Max. “Don't you have class?”

“No,” we said in unison.

I nudged Max with my shoulder. “Yeah,
Max
, don't you have class?”

“Not until tonight,” he replied, nudging me in return. “Don't
you
have class?”

Dante reached into the pocket of his coat and tossed a set of keys to Max. “Take Beatrice to school. We'll handle things here.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. He should have known better than to order me around. “I can't
leave
.”

“Why not?” He sounded serious.

The gossip magazines would've been heartbroken to know that Dante Arturo, hero of the people, wasn't actually
good
at people. He sucked at social cues. “Because this is
my
apartment. All my stuff is here. No offense, but I'd rather not leave the two of you here with all my, uh, business.”

Like the thongs Rosie bought me as a joke for my birthday last year. Why hadn't I burned those yet?

“I assure you, Beatrice, I have no interest in your personal life,” Dante said flatly. He glanced at Max. “Go and come back here after you're done.”

Max started to leave, but I put a hand out and gave him a little push back toward the couch.

“Hold on,” I said, glaring at Dante. “I'm not a piece of furniture. You can't just send me away when you're done with me.”

Max's mouth fell open. Dante's did the opposite. A muscle jumped in his scruffy jaw. “Excuse me?”

I couldn't decide if I was angry or overwhelmed or both. I went with both. “Look, Dante, I really appreciate that you came over and I really appreciate that you keep helping me, but I'm not a couch and I'm not a dog. You can't just order me around and you shouldn't do that to Max, either.”

Silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket. Intimidating as he was, I forced myself to hold Dante's gaze. He wouldn't respect me if I backed down now, and for one reason or another, I
wanted
his respect. I wanted him to see me as more than a bratty orphan who kept abusing her phone privileges. I wanted him to...like me. Or, at the very least, tolerate me.

“It isn't safe for you here,” he said. He was proving himself to be quite the stubborn superhero. “And you need to go to school.”

I sighed. Another useless argument, starring Dante Arturo and Beatrice Todd. He was right, though. It wasn't safe for me here. Not by a long shot. I didn't have anywhere else to go, but I couldn't stay here unless I wanted to become a corpse. At least I wouldn't be giving Marion the satisfaction of evicting me. And, you know, I guess I had to go to school.

“Fine,” I said. “I'll go, but not because you told me to.”

He looked vaguely amused by that. “Of course not.”

It took every scrap of restraint I had not to roll my eyes as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. I hoped I had everything I needed. If I didn't? Oh well. I already had detention. What was Headmaster Vance going to do? Ground me?

Max and I were on our way out the door when Dante's hand caught my wrist. I stiffened. It was warm, made rough by years of hard work. But it wasn't like the movies. I didn't feel electricity where our skin met. Time didn't slow to a grinding halt. It was just a hand. A hand I wanted to slap off.

I looked over my shoulder. “What?”

His lips parted as though he had something meaningful to say, but instead of saying it, he only dropped his hand and grimaced. “Have a nice day, Beatrice. And wipe the blood off your face.”

Seven

The sun was out and the sky was blue for the second day in dreary Stone Chapel. That had to be a new record. I sat in the passenger's seat of Dante's sleek car while Max drove me to the severe turreted building that was the city's esteemed high school. It would've been a relatively short ride if I hadn't begged him to take the long way.

“Dante isn't a bad guy,” he said as we drove past the docks. The ocean rocked lazily against the shore. “He just doesn't get a lot of...social interaction.”

I doused a tissue I found in my backpack with a mini bottle of hand sanitizer Max found in the glove department and wiped my face. Not an ideal solution, but it'd have to do. “What does he do all day? Hunt demons and brood?”

Max laughed. “You'd be surprised. If you ask me, he doesn't do enough for himself. He's all about the cause.”

“The cause?” I balled the tissue up and stuffed it in the cup holder. A little something for Dante to remember me by.

“Yeah, y'know...The fight against evil and all that.” He shrugged. “
I don't think I've ever met anyone so dedicated to his job.
”

And the world was better for it. Dante saved countless lives over the years. He did what no one else seemed to be able to. Despite being overbearing, the fact that a lot of people still viewed him as some harbinger from Lucifer pissed me off. Especially now that I'd gotten to know him. Sort of. “How'd you join up with him anyway?”

“He was my professor for awhile,” Max said.

“Your
professor?
” This was new.

“Yeah, he wasn't permanent, but he taught a class on demonology over at Cromwell a couple of semesters ago. I had to wait in line for three hours to sign up, but it was worth it.”

Cromwell University, named after the city's founder, was Stone Chapel's second claim to fame. It was all the way on the other side of town. I didn't get over there very often, but from what I'd seen, it looked like the Vatican and featured a giant statue of the archangel Gabriel in the middle of campus. It was foremost in demonic research, so I guess it made sense that Dante taught there. Made me wonder what kind of professor he was. Probably the type who made the final exam worth half your grade.

“I take it you liked it, then?” I asked. The pointed spires of the church peeked up out of the skyline, omnipresent. I looked away.

Max took a right down Ballard Street. We were nearing the high school. “Yeah, it was amazing. Dante was really good, believe it or not. That lecture hall was packed every day.”

“Were you the teacher's pet or something?”

He gave his glasses a bashful nudge, shrugging again. “More like the annoying guy who asked questions every ten seconds. I never shut up.”

So Max was one of
those
people. Good to know. “I'll bet Dante enjoyed that.”

“I think he did. A lot of people were too afraid to do anything but stare at him, so I took it upon myself to be
that
guy.”

Another right turn and we were pulling up to the high school. I told him to park across the street. I was already two hours late. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“I created Armageddon Now during Christmas break,” Max said when we were stopped. “I like your handle on there, by the way. Very cool.”

I was glad someone got the reference. “Thanks. Yours is kind of boring, though.”

“Hey, it was the only thing I could think of at the time.” He paused, his grin lessening. “But, yeah, I created it after my dad died and—...”

“Oh.” That wasn't what I was expecting. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.” He tried smiling again. It didn't work. “Anyway, uh―...It was just me and mom. Until Dante gave me a call. Guess he noticed the website and remembered me from class. Offered me a deal.”

Oh, so he'll offer
Max
a deal, but he won't offer
me
one. Unfair. “And?”

“He wanted me to work for him. Keep putting the truth out there. In exchange, he'd help me and my mom with the bills and stuff. Hell, he paid off my tuition.”

“Wow,” I said, thinking of the check I'd received in the mail. “That's...generous.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I told him not do, but he insisted, so.” He shrugged again. “Here I am.”

“Do you live with him?”

“Sort of? Mom lives in Vermont. I moved up here for school, but I'm a junior so I'm not required to live on campus.”

A flock of sparrows gathered around a puddle in the sidewalk next to the car. They flapped around, minding their own business, and then, out of nowhere, a crow landed and the sparrows scattered in a twittering flurry.

Wow. Crows were jerks.

I turned back to Max. “So...you do?”

He drummed his fingers along the leathery surface of the steering wheel. “Yeah, I guess. It's pretty cool. Way better than a dorm room.”

Huh. Interesting. Maybe if I batted my eyelashes and asked a ton of questions, Dante would let
me
move in, too. Of course, that would mean giving up my luxury apartment. “What about Aralia? What's her deal?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “I've been working with the two of them for months now and I can't figure her out. I'm not even sure what she does, y'know? I do the tech stuff, Dante's the hunter...but Aralia? I don't know.”

Another mystery I had yet to unravel. Unfortunately, it would have to wait until after school. I sighed, opening the door. “I'd better go. My next class starts in like fifteen minutes. Ms. Kepler is a stickler for punctuality and I've already got detention.”

“Detention?” Max said. “For what?”

I got out of the car. “Punching someone.”

He lifted a brow. “Damn. You're hardcore, Todd.”

“You know it.”

We said our goodbyes and he drove off in the direction of my apartment, leaving me to face my figurative doom. Alone. In my pajamas.

***

Headmaster Vance pulled me into his office after Ms. Kepler's biology class and freaked out over my being late, then proceeded to chastise my choice in clothing. I tried to explain what happened in less...creepy terms, but he wasn't having any of it and ordered me to spend my lunch period in the library with my new best friend, Ms. Hayworth.

It occurred to me when I walked through the door that I'd never really talked to her before. I only came in here when I had to. She didn't seem to mind, though.

“Oh, hello,” she said from behind the circulation desk, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She put her plastic fork down and pushed her cup of peaches away. “You're Beatrice, right?”

Looks like my reputation preceded me. “Yep.”

She smiled. She wasn't the stereotypical old lady librarian. She had the glasses down, but the rest of her was fresh out of college. Auburn hair, green eyes, eager expression. “The Headmaster called and said you were coming. Sit wherever you'd like.”

“Okay” I shuffled over to the nearest table. The television in the upper corner of the wall flickered on. No one ever told me this place had a TV. I'd have to rethink my visiting hours.

“Sorry,” Ms. Hayworth said. “I don't usually do this, but I just got a text from my mom to turn on the news.”

I picked at the slice of pizza on my lunch tray, popping a rubbery pepperoni in my mouth. “I won't tell if you won't.”

The channels blipped by, alternating between static and soap operas, then stopped on the face of a perfectly coiffed brunette standing in front of rundown warehouse blocked off with bright yellow caution tape. The banner below her proclaimed breaking news.

Her concerned voice filled the room. “Good afternoon, I'm Candace Walker for Channel 10 News reporting live from a press conference held by Mayor Michael Bishop in regards to the mass homicide uncovered in this very warehouse Saturday evening. New details have emerged―Oh, here he is. Let's listen in.”

The camera zoomed away from Candace to a ridiculously handsome older man with thick silver hair and a three piece suit. He stepped up to the podium and confronted his audience of reporters with a stern grimace and a clearing of his throat.

“Good afternoon,” he began. He sounded strong, commanding. Mayoral, even. “As you know, a horrific act of violence was uncovered here two days ago. I am working closely with the police department
and
the federal authorities to bring this depraved killer to justice. I'm standing here today to tell you, the people of this city, that we will
not
tolerate this violence, nor will we continue to let it happen. We take crime
very
seriously and hope to bring a quick resolution to this case.”

Ms. Hayworth migrated from her desk to my table and sank into the chair beside me, bringing a forkful of peaches to her lips as Mayor Bishop continued his speech.

“Though we will not be releasing the names of the victims at this time, I extend my condolences to their families and wish them all the best in these trying times.” He paused, glanced down at the podium, then back up at the audience. It was completely silent. Everyone was enraptured by our charismatic leader. “Details about this case are sparse at the moment, but we are working tirelessly to give the victims and their families the answers they deserve. That being said, if you know anything about what might have happened here, please contact the police department. Thank you.”

Assuming that was the end of his speech, the audience erupted with questions. Who did it? Do you have any leads? What precautions are you taking to ensure this doesn't happen again? Cameras flashed and the entire crowd shifted forward toward the podium, desperate to get the first scoop.

“Mayor Bishop!” One man shouted. “What about the allegations of demonic activity? Is there any evidence to support that?”

I sat up. Max said in his post on Armageddon Now that the evidence was all there, that it was obvious. That the demon at work was extremely dangerous. How could there be any doubt?

Mayor Bishop leaned into his microphone. “While we don't want to rule anything out, everything we've found thus far points to more human hands.”

Wait,
what?
Was he seriously denying that a demon had a stake in this? Max was going to be pissed.

Ms. Hayworth looked troubled. “I hope he's right. Lord knows we don't need any more demon trouble around here.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, picking another pepperoni off my pizza. “We really don't.”

***

School passed by without further incident. No demon attacks, no blood symbols, no snide comments about my pajamas. I didn't even see Jason. When the final bell rang, I made my way back to the library to start my first day of detention. Crooked stacks of books filled the tables and Ms. Hayworth scurried around them, scribbling on a clipboard as she went.

“Ms. Hayworth?” I put my backpack on her desk. She didn't answer. Just zipped around the stacks like a deranged wind-up toy in a cardigan. “You okay over there?”

Again, no answer. This was awkward. I watched her do another lap, waiting to see how long it'd take her to realize I was there. Then, as she went around the third time, I decided enough was enough and tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped so high that I wouldn't have been surprised if her feet left the ground.

“Beatrice!” She gasped, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “You―you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I said. “You were, uh...
distracted
.”

She readjusted her glasses, smiling sheepishly. “Yes, well, I apologize. I tend to have a very one track mind when it comes to work. I get so focused on one thing that I don't pay attention to anything else and...” She trailed off. “I'm rambling. Sorry.”

I decided to change the subject before we found something else to apologize about. “So, this is what detention's like, huh?”

She nodded. “For now, yes. I'm reorganizing the shelving system to make more useful materials easier to find. It's a lot of work, but it'll be worth it in the long run.”

It
looked
like a lot of work. At least I wouldn't be scrubbing toilets. “What do you need me to do?”

She tapped her pen on her clipboard in thought, then pointed it in the direction of the group of shelves labeled 'LOCAL HISTORY.’ “You could start by taking all those books off their shelves? You don't have to do anything with them. Just stack them up in alphabetical order and I'll do the rest later.”

Stone Chapel was a city obsessed with itself, and it showed in the dozens of books I had to move from the shelves to the floor. There were compilations of letters from prominent citizens, three copies of
Stone Chapel: A History
, and, of course, the entirety of The Cromwell Diaries.

Back in 1784, the city’s founder, Elias Cromwell, began putting to paper his journey from Rome, to England, to the New World. What resulted was something local historians called The Cromwell Diaries, a near mythological account of the founding of the city. As the story went, Cromwell was born in England, moved to Rome when he was eighteen to study Catholicism, then moved back to England when he was 33 to spread the good Catholic word. He got tired of England’s anti-Catholic sentiment at the time, however, and sailed to the New World to found a place where people of all faiths (mostly Catholics) would be welcomed.