by K. C. Finn
“Your second question?” Marax asked.
Lori bit her lip. You don’t want to know. Not really. You already know.
“How?” she began, voice quaking. Marax raised a thin brow. “How do you keep us alive when our bodies become more demon than human?”
“By taking you where all demons belong,” Marax replied. “Through the gate.”
A sour taste filled the back of Lori’s mouth, trickling down her throat. She’d watched the beastly Faunus being shoved through the nothingness, vanishing into that other place. The place that Owe kept calling Hell. Was that what she wanted? To go to Hell? Was it better than dying?
“Marax has a skill for opening and closing portals,” Allardyce explained. “It’s extremely rare, and Matilda doesn’t like it.”
“She wasn’t the only student of the Gatekeeper.” Marax wore another sneer. “She could do this for all of those dying children in the underground wards, Lori. She could set them free in a world where they can live without pain and become the thing they’re meant to. But she doesn’t.”
“Why not?” Lori frowned.
“The D.C.’s promise to humanity is to control the demon threat,” Allardyce cut in. “For Matilda, that means using the Sown to track down errant beasts which have crossed over. Those kids are bait, used to capture and return the real demons to the other side.”
“And we’re supposed to be okay with that?” Lori’s hackles rose.
Marax shrugged. “Who cares about the worm on the hook, so long as you catch the fish?”
“I do,” Lori said. “Because I’m the worm.”
Marax clapped her shoulder again. “Precisely my point. You mustn’t decide anything now, it’s been a long night. But know that you’re welcome here, always. Any service you do me will be repaid in kind.”
Allardyce raised a finger.
“There’s one other thing that you could help Lori with,” he said to Marax. Lori watched him intently. Allardyce spared her a little glance before he carried on. “When we were out in the field running down the beast, Lori began to shapeshift.”
A lump of lead flung itself into Lori’s throat. She clutched at the imaginary blockage.
“I did?” Her voice was choked.
“Your skin did look a lot darker when we first came upon you,” Marax said.
Lori thought about the capture of the Faunus. She remembered being on the wet ground, looking down at her hands. The colour changing from black back to her usual pale skin. She got a flash of that surprised look on Allardyce’s face when they’d been running. She had felt different, like her weight was distributed in different places, her body taking on a new form. What had Allardyce seen when he looked at her?
“I was thinking you could help Lori get control of her transformation,” Allardyce’s voice hitched. “It would be beneficial to us if she could transform at will. And of course, it would help her better understand her gifts.”
Lori looked between the two men, her heart thumping hard again. She held her stomach, fingers knitted tightly over it. There was barely a breath left in her lungs by the time Marax finally spoke.
“Why not?” He smiled. “I haven’t worked with a Cervinae in a long time. It could be a lot of fun.”
He grinned, showing off his long, thin teeth. She wanted to ask him again what he was. Marax was no human, but when he touched her, there was no indication of anything else. He’d avoided the question, and so had Allardyce, so Lori kept her mouth shut. She let the two men lead her across the cavern, and to her displeasure she found they were walking towards Addy. He still had his back to them all, though Tyler was long gone. When Marax made a little coughing sound, the boy turned.
“Addison,” said Marax, “I’d like you to walk Miss Blake home. Show her the tunnel route so that she may come and go as she pleases.”
Lori balled her fists, shoving them into her tracksuit pockets. Addy gave a nod to Marax. They exchanged a few words that Lori didn’t understand, then Addy walked to one of the tunnelways nearby. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. Lori met his eyes, and saw the crumple in his brow. His lip was curved like a kicked puppy. She stomped on towards him, and beyond him into the tunnel. There were no off-shoots to the path, just a sconce-lit way ahead, so she kept walking.
“Hey, I’m supposed to be showing you the way,” Addy said.
She heard his feet slapping the rocky path behind her. He let out a gasping breath as he caught up.
“You knew,” she said.
The accusation left them both in silence. It seemed a long time, maybe a hundred steps. Lori lost count in the semi-dark as her mind wandered in and out of her rage. Addy walked beside her with his head hanging, watching the ground and kicking the odd rock out of his path. Lori trampled over the rocks instead. Her feet hurt from walking so harshly. It wasn’t until she saw a faint white light up ahead that Addy raised his arm, pointing.
“This comes out onto the cycle path by the river,” he explained. “Takes us right to our doorsteps.”
“Fine,” Lori said.
They strode a few paces more towards the light. Day was breaking in the world above, the pair of them stepping ever-closer to it. Until Addy took a leap forward, getting in Lori’s way. She walked right into him before she could stop herself. Her head ached suddenly, visions flashing. Before her, she saw a huge horse made of black ice. The one she’d spotted in the river when she’d seen Addy a few weeks ago. Back when she’d thought it could all still be some wild hallucination.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
As he spoke, his lips broke through the vision. The horse faded off, leaving Addy standing in the white halo of the tunnel’s mouth. Lori had sweat at the back of her neck, her breath coming in gulps.
“You…” she stammered. “When I fell into the river, I was so confused and upset… And you knew. And you didn’t say anything. You could have helped me so much sooner.”
“Oh, I knew earlier than that.” Addy looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was the witness. The one who called Matilda in the first place.”
Lori froze. She listened for the beat of her heart to be sure that time was still moving forward. The thumping echoed weakly from a place that seemed far away.
“Tell me everything,” she said softly. “What you saw. What you did. Who you are. Now.”
Addy leaned back against the tunnel wall, looking out at the breaking day.
“I watched the Cervinae pierce your heart with its foreclaw. I was cutting up the alley to go shopping, and I recognised you from Fir Trees. I did what I could. I took your bag and whacked the demon with it, made it angry. It chased me, so at least I knew you were safe, but that thing could bloody climb. I got about as far as the Eastgate clock when I had to hide. The Cervinae got onto to the rooftops from there. So I called the D.C.. I didn’t want you to be alone, but I knew you wouldn’t believe what was happening if I’d been the one to tell you.”
Lori wound her hand. “Go on.”
“I told Marax, of course. He’s my… master. If you want to call it that.” Addy cocked his head a moment, letting out a sigh. “He asked me to keep watch on you. I had to record your sleepwalking times, tell him about anything you’d said to me. He said I wasn’t allowed to tell you the truth. He wanted that moment for himself, when you were ready to handle it.” Addy’s fingertips rubbed little circles on his trouser legs, over and over again. “I… I’m sorry, Lori. I was looking out for you, really. Not in an honest way, but…”
“Wait,” Lori said.
Somewhere in the last few words, something had clicked in her head. Another connection from earlier that night. Flipping through pages of numbers in the dark doorway of Addy’s caravan.
“That wasn’t a fucking swimming diary!” She turned on Addy, eyes narrow, a new burning in her chest. The freeze was over. “Those are your observations of me, right? Watching me sleepwalk at night and not helping at all? Do you know…”
Her words died on he
r lips.
Do you know how many people I’ve hurt?
Perhaps Addy did. Lori suppressed a gulp, making her tight throat speak again. She didn’t look Addy in the eye, just in case.
“Did you follow me when I was asleep?”
Addy shook his head. Her stomach settled again. “I only took the time when you left your van, and the time you got back.”
“Not any more,” She folded her arms. “And I want those times off you. I’ve got stuff to figure out.”
“All right.” Addy waved his palms at her. “I want things to be peaceful again. If you’re going to train your demon side with Marax, we’ll be spending a lot more time together. I don’t want you to think I’m some total arsehole.”
“Not total,” Lori snapped back. “But it’s close right now.”
Addy looked down. “I know. I felt bad enough about it before you knew.”
His nervy behaviour made sense now. Addy was so collected when he was working for Marax, but around Lori he’d been unsure and awkward from the off. She looked him over, watching as the young man squeezed his palms together, knitting his fingers. The blaze in her chest quelled. She tightened her folded arms.
“If you feel so bad, you can tell me what I want to know,” she said. “What is Marax?”
“What?” Addy’s mouth hung open a little.
“I know he isn’t human,” Lori began, “and he’s not a Sown. And he doesn’t look like any of the other demons I’ve seen. He’s no Faunus.”
“Ha.” Addy began to grin. “Perish the thought.” The words slid out in a great imitation of Marax’s languid tone. “He’d go crazy if anyone thought he was one of those lesser beasts. See, small demons like the Faunus can get through small gates. Little rips in the wall between the worlds.”
Lori gulped. “The Faunus is… small?”
Addy nodded. “Marax is a greater demon. One of the greats. Way too big to pass through a portal, unless it was one that was big enough to rip the world open.”
Lori stepped closer. “So he is a demon?”
Addy nodded again, faster than before.
“Yeah, but his demon form is too big. So… he can only pass his mind through the gate. His consciousness.”
The penny dropped. Lori was sinking, lead weighing down her limbs.
“Hosted. He puts his mind into a human body,” she said. “Demonic possession.”
“You got it,” Addy replied.
Lori’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, swiping the screen to load the new message. It was twenty past six in the morning. Lori’s eyes widened at the text:
MUM: Where the hell are you?
She looked up at Addy. “I think I’d better go.”
He frowned a little, then gave a smaller, slower nod than before.
“See you soon, though?” he asked.
Lori curled her lip.
“I don’t think I’ve got much choice.”
Parents, and people who think they’re parents
Lori’s hand hovered on the wet handle of the caravan door. The autumn morning was damp and refreshing. The world was pale grey all around her. She sucked in a few more breaths of air. No-one else was walking the grassy grounds of Fir Trees. Out here, Lori could hear a pin squelch into the mud. She could think clearly, and there was always so much to think about now. She looked down at her damp tracksuit, now muddied from the tunnel walk as well. She frowned so deeply it hurt her face a bit. The thought returned, the one about how scraggy and awful she must look. This time, it mattered. It would certainly matter to Mum. Lori swallowed, then let her fingers slide around the handle, turning it ever-so-slightly.
Voices erupted on the first click of the door. The handle was ripped from her hands as the van door swung inwards. Mum filled the doorway, standing in her nightie and a wet dressing gown. She had a phone in one hand, clinging to the door with the other. She swung herself backwards, steps unsteady, and screwed her eyes up at Lori.
“Get in here. Now.”
There was a violent yank of Mum’s head. Lori took the few steps into the van, watching her shoes as she tracked a thick layer of pale brown mud onto the old carpet. Another pair of feet lay ahead, and Lori lifted her gaze a little. A man was sitting on the sofa, in the place where he always used to sit, a can of lager in his grip. Lori watched Brian’s eyes travel over her, his mouth open and caught in a half-twist.
“What are you doing back here?” Lori asked.
She stomped past Brian to the narrow gap which lead from the living room into the kitchen. Lori spun on her heel and leaned against a cabinet, arms folded.
“I-” Brian began.
“Brian is back because he realised how stupid he’s been,” Mum cut in. Her harsh lips curved into a watery smile that she gave to Brian. He opened his mouth again, but Yvonne carried on before a single sound emerged. “He left because you were getting sick, Lori. My partner left me because he thought he wouldn’t be able to handle a sick teenager in the house. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
Brian’s eyes met Lori’s for a half-second. He shuffled in his seat, then sipped his lager. He opened his mouth again.
“Well-”
“And now that I’ve spent the last two hours convincing him that everything’s going to be all-right.” Mum’s thunderous voice rose. “You march back into our home looking like a tramp. Have you been out all night?”
Lori tightened her arms, tongue firmly planted against the roof of her mouth.
“Where have you been?” Mum’s arms flailed. She brandished the phone like a hammer. “You weren’t sleepwalking. You took your phone with you. I rung it and realised it wasn’t here.”
Lori’s body had turned to stone, a statue trapped against the cabinet. Heat was rising between her chest and her chin, flames prickling and licking at her throat. Her eyes stung like someone had blown smoke into them. If she moved, the statue was going to break. If she spoke, the fire was going to flow.
“Where were you, Lorelai!” Mum’s free hand curled, gripping thin air. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? And you’re going to stand there like you’re the dog’s bollocks, are you? No answer for me? You’re too clever to be told off by your Mum now, is that it?”
Not a statue, Lori realised. A volcano.
She could feel the lava bubbling, the sparks of new flames flashing down into her legs. Her feet itched to charge. Mum was raging on, her voice growing more broken with every question that Lori refused to answer. Lori grabbed at her stomach under her folded arms, pinching the flesh. She could barely feel the pressure she was putting there, as though her body was detaching from her feelings. A wild flutter crossed her chest, shooting up into her head like the pop of a firework.
Records indicate that partial or full manifestation of the demon form can be provoked by inducing distress.
She had changed once tonight already, when her body demanded something of her that human Lori simply couldn’t do. If she didn’t do something to stop her mother from shouting, it might happen again. Lori clenched her fists, squeezing for a moment. She couldn’t let it. Lori raised a hand against Mum’s railing and wailing, and Yvonne fell silent. Her petite frame sank a little closer to the ground, and she held her phone in both hands, rubbing her thumbs over the worn cover. Lori looked at her legs, the hem of the nightie flapping around her scrawny knees. She was weak and small. Lori’s throat shook.
Not worth the fight, said the cruel voice. You could snap her like a twig.
“I made some friends at the treatment place.” Lori’s palms patted the air in front of her. She took a few steps forward, the security of the wall lost from her back. “One of them called for me last night. I knew you’d say no if I wanted to go out, so I snuck out instead.”
“Disgraceful,” Brian cut in. Lori’s gaze snapped to him. He slugged another gulp of beer down his throat. “Putting your mother through all that distress.”
“This coming from you?” Lori shot back, eyebrows raised.
&
nbsp; The lager can stopped on its way up for another sip. Lori watched it sink down again, Brian’s expression coming into view beyond it. His eyes were hazy, as they so often were, face caught in a low-brow scowl.
“You dare speak to me that way!” He sat up straighter.
“Oh, I dare.” Lori’s voice was perfectly level. A flash of Mum at the breakfast table came back to her, the broken expression when she’d tried to explain why Brian had left. Lori’s chest gave a pang, but when she looked at the beer-swilling lump before her, she had to ask herself if it was such a great loss. And he had the nerve to talk about causing Mum distress?
Brian’s full height reached a couple of inches over Lori’s head. He snarled down with a twisted lip. This was the kind of thing Lori had learned to avoid over the last few years. Getting into arguments with Brian never went down well. He’d throw his considerable weight around, snarling and snorting like the hog that he was, and Lori would always find herself wanting to cry. She wasn’t used to being shouted at. She was a good girl.
Or, she had been.
“Try it,” she said. He didn’t blink. “You’re a bully, Brian.” She took another step towards him. “And you deserve nothing from my Mum. And nothing from me.”
“I don’t know where this attitude has come from, Lori, but you ought to be quiet now.”
Mum’s words were measured, coming out in a low, soft tone. She stood behind Brian, watching the scene with wide eyes. They shone like golf balls in Lori’s direction. Mum’s frizzy hair was quaking too, like it was filling with static. Lori sensed the storm brewing again in the room, tension thick as the humidity in the little van. She was steaming now, the damp trackies coursing with new heat. Inside, her stomach muscles clenched harder than she’d ever felt them. Something had shifted.
Do it.
The voice coaxed, a softer whisper than ever before.
“Come on now, love.” Mum was approaching Brian, one hand reaching for his shoulder. “Lori didn’t mean it. She’s a kid. An angry kid caught out for partying with her mates. We’ve all been there.”