The Complete Demonblood Saga

by Penelope King

  “Gross,” I mutter, and pick up my pace.

  Loud and obscene shouts come from Corrine’s trailer, and my heart stops. But then the yelling is followed by raucous laughter, and I let out a long breath. A moment later, the busted screen door swings open violently. A woman I recognize as Corrine’s mother stumbles down the two wooden steps followed by a skinny man with a long, greasy mullet and pockmarked cheeks.

  “Well lookie what we got here, Jolene. Some pretty ‘ung thang here lookin’ like Bambi who lost her mama,” the man says with a salacious smirk. “Did you lose your mama, sweet Bambi?” His eyes feast over my body before settling on my chest. The curvaceous woman with overly-bleached hair and wearing clothes two sizes too tight, laughs as if it’s the funniest thing she ever heard. She almost trips over her five inch spiked heels and grabs the skinny man for support, all the while puffing on a cigarette. I stand there unmoving, not sure what to do.

  “Wait a minute, don’t I know ya?” she slurs, blowing smoke in my direction. I try not to cough as I nod.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m a friend of Corrine’s. My name is Liora Greyson.”

  Her eyes narrow and she steps closer to me. The man watches us curiously as she glares at me with an intoxicated anger.

  “She been telling you lies? That why you here?” Corrine’s mother spits out, and takes a long drag from her skinny cigarette.

  “Ma’am?”

  “She’s a liar. A dirty little liar and she spreads her filthy lies everywhere. I won’t stand for it. I won’t tolerate it, hear me, missy? The tongue of the devil!”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am.” I figure it’s best to just play along. She seems totally out of her mind.

  “So go on now. Git. Denny and me are off to get party supplies, and I don’t need the likes of you stirring up more trouble. That girl needs to learn her place and I won’t be havin’ no lies. Hear me? So go. Go on now. Git. And don’t come back.” She waves me off with a handful of long, bright pink fingernails.

  “Uh, yes ma’am. Sorry.” The man still hasn’t stopped staring at my chest, and I hurry away, disgusted. They stumble off towards an old white pick-up truck, and I duck around the corner out of sight.

  Once I’m sure they’ve gone, I return to the trailer, surprised to see Corrine sitting on the front porch, her head held low, her stringy hair covering her face.

  “Hey,” she mumbles as I sit beside her. “Sorry ‘bout that. She’s been on a tear lately.”

  “Hey, Corrine,” I whisper. She raises her head, and I gasp. “Corrine! What happened?” Her black eye is purple in some spots, yellowish in others. Her nose has a funny bump to it I don’t remember seeing before, and her puffy mouth bears a vicious gash on her lower lip.

  “It looks worse than it is. Promise. But I didn’t really wanna show my face at school, for obvious reasons.”

  “But—but—what happened? Were you in an accident or attacked or something?” I stammer, unable to get over my shock. I never expected to find her like this, and my heart aches.

  She shrugs and drops her head again. “It’s all very Afterschool Special.” She lets out a deep sigh. “Drunk mom has druggie boyfriend. Druggie boyfriend tries to have sex with drunk mom’s daughter. Daughter fights back and tells mom. Daughter gets the crap smacked out of her. You know…the usual.”

  “Oh, Corrine, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” I whisper, rubbing her back consolingly.

  She peeks at me through her dishwater bangs. “Ask your grandma if she wants to adopt me?”

  My heart sinks into my gut, and my stomach twists in knots. I knew Corrine had a tough home life, but I had no idea it was this bad.

  “Corrine, you have to go to the police or something. They can’t get away with treating you like this—”

  “There’s nothing the police can do. It’s their word against mine. And besides, what would happen to me? I turned seventeen a few months ago. Foster care? Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. And I have no money, no job, no nothing. I’m stuck here.”

  “Corrine, there’s gotta be something we can do.” I rack my mind trying to find a solution. Obviously staying with me is out of the question. But maybe… “I have an idea…what if I gave you some money? Would that help?”

  Corrine looks confused. “I don’t see how…”

  “Money…to stay at a motel or get your own apartment or something.”

  “I’m a minor. Mom would just call the cops on me…”

  “Well, what if—”

  Corinne shakes her head and holds up her hand. “I know I gotta get out of here. And someday I will. But it’s usually not this bad. This was kind of an unusual fight. Normally you can’t see the marks. I’ll be fine in a few days. No worries.”

  I bite my lip and stare at the ground. Clearly something has to be done…

  “How’d you get here?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh, um…a car…”

  “Where’d you park? I don’t see it anywhere.”

  “Uh…around the corner.”

  “Why? And why’re you acting funny?”

  I let out a guilty sigh. “Don’t be mad, but Tristan drove me. I had him park down on the street around the corner…”

  “Ahhh. Didn’t want him to see the sort of trash you hang out with?”

  “Corrine, you know that’s not true! I did it out of respect for you, not because I’m ashamed of you!”

  She twists her hair around her finger and chews on her lip. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. Don’t know why I’m being a bitch.”

  “Oh, please. You have every right to be a bitch right now. I don’t know how you’re being so cool and collected after what happened—”

  “Liora, just stop. Please,” she whispers hoarsely. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. Your pity hurts worse than being punched in the face.”

  “I’m sorry…I just wish there was something I could do for you.”

  “Me too. If there is I’ll let you know,” she says.

  I nod and pat her knee, feeling helpless.

  Corrine glances around. “So where’s Tristan? Waiting for you in the car?”

  “Yeah, I asked him to stay there while I came to check on you.”

  “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight for five seconds,” she mutters, looking down.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Even though I secretly agree with her sentiment, for some reason it’s more offensive having someone else point it out like that.

  “I just mean, you’ve stuck to him like white on rice since the moment he came to this school. It’s like Kieron never existed or something, and instead, you totally jump on the next guy who shows you attention and completely ignore everyone else—”

  I spring to my feet and face her. “What do you mean I completely ignore everyone else? Hello! I’m here checking on you right now!”

  She looks away, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. “I gotta go back inside.”

  “Corrine, wait. Don’t go yet. C’mon. Let’s talk.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to fight with you, too.”

  “We’re not fighting, we’re talking. C’mon…are you mad at me or something? If so, spill it,” I plead.

  She sits back down and brushes her hair back from her face. The frames on her glasses are bent, and the lens has a tiny crack in it. She sighs and clenches a fistful of hair. “I’m not mad at you…just kind of disappointed, I guess.”

  “Disappointed why?” I ask, confused.

  “I dunno, I just never thought you’d be the type of girl who’d drop everything for some guy and completely shut out the rest of the world—”

  “Corrine, what are you talking about? I don’t do that!”

  “Yeah, you kinda do. You didn’t do it when you were with Kieron. With him, you were totally yourself, just better. Happier. But when you’re with Tristan, it’s like no one else exists or matters except him. And you…I dunno…it’s like you’re disappearing or somet
hing.”

  “You’re imagining it,” I whisper hoarsely.

  “Oh, am I? Do you realize this is the first time you and I have had a conversation like this since he arrived on the scene? Where you’re looking at me and talking to me and actually hearing me? Not like I’m just some second-best space-filler who’s only good until someone better comes around? I feel like I’ve been some invisible third-wheel with you guys. Like at lunch or something…I’m sitting there trying to talk to you, but you’d never even know if I was there or not—”

  “That’s not true—”

  “Yeah, actually, it is. I swear, sometimes it’s like he has you hypnotized or something. You get this glassy, far-away look, and the way you look at him with your adoring big, blue eyes…well, it’s gross! Seeing you with Tristan…well, I don’t like it. Not one bit. It makes my skin crawl. You didn’t ever act like this with Kieron…with him you were much more normal.”

  Oh, sweet, naïve Corrine. If only you knew how altogether not normal Kieron and I are….

  “You’re just jealous,” I snap. “Jealous that I have a guy that likes me and you don’t.”

  “Oh, I promise I’m not jealous of that. Especially when the guy is as creepy as Tristan.”

  “Creepy? What makes him so creepy? Is it because of his scars? Are you really that superficial?”

  Corrine looks confused and annoyed. “What scars?” She shakes her head and stares at me like I’m a crazy person.

  “Oh, don’t be patronizing. Is he too ugly for you or something? After all, we all know Kieron was Mr. Perfect, right? Mr. Flawless-Hotty-McNaughty. Well, he left. And he’s not coming back. So what if Tristan has a less-than-perfect face? I don’t care about that at all. Ever heard about a thing called ‘inner beauty’? I know it’s a foreign concept with most people—”

  “Seriously, Liora. What’re you talking about? What scars? Did Tristan get in some sort of accident or something?” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a quizzical look.

  I roll my eyes. “Why are you acting like an idiot?” I stand to leave. This is a total waste of time. Why bother trying to show I care? Clearly, I’m not welcomed or appreciated here.

  I take a few steps, but Corrine jumps up and grabs my arm. “Please, Liora…don’t go. Let’s not fight. You’re my only friend.” I hear the pleading in her voice, and when I turn around, there are tears in the corner of her bruised eye. My heart softens, and I take a deep breath.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head.

  “Me too,” she says. We go back and sit on the steps outside the trailer porch. I notice she hasn’t invited me in, but I don’t mind. I certainly don’t want to run into her mother and that awful guy again. Best to be out here where I can keep an eye on things.

  “Um, at the risk of making you upset again…can you please explain to me what you mean about Tristan’s scars? Maybe I misunderstood you. Have you seen him with his shirt off or something?” Her eyes are wary, and a blush hints at her plump cheeks.

  I let out an annoyed sigh—I can’t help it. I don’t want to be irritated with her, but why is she acting like a complete idiot? “No, I haven’t seen him with his shirt off,” I say as if I’m talking to a five-year-old child. “I am talking about the fact that half of his face is covered with wicked scars that go all the way down his neck. And maybe further, I don’t know, because I haven’t seen him with his shirt off.”

  Corrine looks at me flabbergasted as I continue speaking unnaturally slow. “And his sister Casandra has them too, only they’re all over her arms and hands. We both stared at them their first day because it was so shocking…”

  Corrine opens her mouth, then closes it again and puts her head down. She’s quiet for several moments, then finally whispers, “Liora, did you smoke some pot today?”

  “What?!”

  “Or take some pills, maybe? You don’t seem drunk…” She leans forward as if to check my eyes a little closer.

  I jerk back. “What the hell, Corrine? Why would you think that? If anything, you’re the one who’s acting like a dumbass. Maybe you got a concussion and suffered some brain damage—”

  “Stop!” she croaks out. “This is ridiculous! Tristan doesn’t have any scars on his face, and neither does his sister! She’s in my gym class. I would know. We stared at them that first day because they were new. And really good-looking, like they were rich or something. Of course we’d stare. But not because someone has some scars. Neither one does. Tristan’s skin is so smooth, it looks practically airbrushed. So yeah, call me a dumbass, ‘cause I have NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!”

  With that she jumps up, goes inside the rickety trailer and slams the door.

  ~~~

  “You okay over there?” Tristan slides his hand up my thigh as we cruise down the highway. I turn my attention from the whizzing scenery and stare at him. Yup. Big, fat scar. Plain as day. Corrine must be more blind than I thought. But why is my stomach so knotted and heavy?

  “I’m fine. Just worried about Corrine.”

  “Ahh, she’ll be fine in a few days. The flu is no picnic, but she’ll survive.”

  I nod, returning my attention to the passing countryside. I feel a little guilty not telling him the truth about Corrine. I know something has to be done, and I have to help her. But for some reason I don’t want Tristan involved.

  “Pull over,” I say suddenly as we pass a decrepit-looking gas station.

  “Here? In the middle of nowhere?”

  “Yeah, go to that gas station back there. I…I have to pee. Please.”

  “Sure thing.”

  As he turns the Jag around, my mind races. He parks near the entrance, and through the store’s dusty windows I see a woman. “Would you do me a huge favor?” I ask.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Will you buy me a large Sprite? I forgot my wallet. You can get it for me while I’m using the bathroom.”

  He shrugs. “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Nope. Just the drink.”

  The middle aged woman hands me a key attached to a large wooden plank and points me toward the back. “Try not to touch anything in there, honey,” she calls out after me.

  The smell of the unisex bathroom is nauseating, and I hold my breath as long as I can. Finally I breathe through my shirt, trying to muffle the putrid odor. When I think enough time has passed I push open the metal door, welcoming the fresh air.

  I hand the key back to the cashier and see Tristan outside the window behind her, leaning against his car. “Did you see where my friend went? The one with the scars on his face?” I ask innocently.

  “I didn’t see no boy with no scars, honey, but that boy you came in with just stepped outside not a moment ago.”

  My heart thuds ominously in my chest, and I catch my breath. I inch closer to the counter and lock eyes with the woman. She seems normal. “Do you wear glasses?” I ask her.

  “Nope. Perfect vision. Why?”

  “Did you actually get a good look at him or were you just concentrating on ringing him up?”

  She seems flustered for a moment as she pats her poufy brunette bob. “Well, I was doin’ my job, but you can’t blame a girl for looking, can you? He’s quite an attractive young man. Probably the most handsome I’ve ever seen in these parts. He your boyfriend?”

  “Are you telling me you got a really good look at his face and didn’t see any scars? Nothing?”

  She frowns and shakes her head. “Nothing but the Good Lord’s image.” She narrows her eyes and shifts them out the window to where Tristan is looking in. “You two up to something here? You playing some sorta game with me?”

  “No, ma’am. Have a nice day,” I say, and scoot out the door.

  “I don’t think I want to go back to school,” I tell Tristan once we’re back on the road. “I have a really bad headache. Can you just take me home?”

  He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “I don’t believe you.”

  My
chest clenches, and I concentrate on sounding casual. “What do you mean? Why would I lie about that?” Lucky…Lucky, are you in there? Can you hear me? I think I might be in trouble…

  Tristan lets out an easy laugh. “Oh, I know you better than you might think.” He flashes me a wicked smile. “I know you’re lying to me. And I know how freaked out you are right now.”

  Lucky wake up!

  “Your friend. Corrine. She wasn’t sick. She was hurt. And you’re worried about her. So worried, I think, you gave yourself a headache. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’ll drop you off at your place. Just lead the way.”

  I could cry with relief. And once Tristan pulls away in his snazzy convertible, that’s exactly what I do.

  Chapter 14. Liora

  It’s not even noon, and Tatiana will wonder why I’m home so early. Hopefully she’ll understand once I tell her what happened with Corrine. But I don’t quite know what to make of this thing with Tristan.

  Instead of going into the cabin, I wander through the woods to my special spot. It’s a small clearing by the creek beneath the cover of an ancient White Ash tree. As I lean against its corky bark and listen to the tinkling of the stream as it cascades gently past the glistening rocks, my mind starts ticking forward…and backward.

  A slow fog is gradually lifting from my mind…but at the same time, I’m becoming more confused. Physically, I feel fine. Better than I’ve felt in a long while. Stronger. More alert. More focused. It’s as if I can see things more clearly.

  So why is it that when I look at Tristan, I no longer like what I see? And why can’t anyone see his scars but me?

  I don’t know what this means, and I definitely need to ask Tatiana. I’ve had some of Lucky’s weird abilities bleed over into my world before…and I know she has psychic powers. Is it possible the scars are going to happen to him in the future?

  No, that’s not it. He’s already acknowledged them, as well as the ones his sister bears. So Tristan knows he has scars, he knows his sister has them. I can see them, and he knows I can see them. Corrine doesn’t seem to be able to see them, and neither did the lady at the gas station.