A Demon Made Me Do It
Demonblood Series #1
A novel
by
Penelope King
Copyright © 2011 Penelope King
Smashwords Edition
http://authorpenelopeking.blogspot.com/
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The poems of Lord Byron, William Blake, and Paul Laurence Dunbar are used under the fair use act and are in the public domain.
Chapter 1. Liora
Whoever says Hell is the worst place imaginable obviously never spent a day at Dove Creek High School. There needs to be an inscription on its front gates reading, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind is the soft hum of my teacher’s voice, but I pay no attention to his words. The clock on the wall ticks by so slowly I swear it actually stops a few times. I close my eyes and try to imagine a happier place—anywhere but here, doing anything but wasting my life pretending to belong in a world that hates me.
“According to Dante, the eighth circle is reserved for those who have committed treacherous acts of fraud and deceit…” Mr. Sodenberg drones. I love how he has the ability to make a journey through Hell seem less interesting than a trip to the dentist.
To be fair, I’d already read Inferno when I was eight years old as part of my early demonhood education. Although that was nearly nine years ago, I still have perfect recall of each and every word, as with anything else I’ve ever read. Listening to it being discussed in class is as exciting as re-learning the alphabet without all the fun of singing the catchy tune that goes along with it.
I half-open one eye to peek outside the window. Bare bones of tree branches tremble in the wind. Soon it will be winter. Soon the snow will come. Then, not only will I be stuck inside a classroom for most of the day, my lazy afternoons in the woods will be limited even more. I’ll be trapped in the small cabin I share with Tatiana, my guardian.
Trapped. Story of my life.
Trapped in this classroom, trapped in my body, trapped in the daylight, trapped in this false world. Trapped in limbo with no escape in sight.
It’s cold outside, so when my skin starts suddenly warming up, I know something’s wrong. As the sun-burning sensation slowly spreads up my neck, I begin to panic.
Oh, no. No, no, please no.
“Liora Greyson!” Mr. Sodenberg’s angry voice and a book cracking against his podium snaps me to attention. I raise my head from the cradle of my arms and shoot him an icy glare.
“What?” My voice doesn’t belong to me anymore. It sounds like me, but it’s not.
He scowls at me from behind his reading glasses. “I’m sorry if our discussion on Dante’s Inferno is interfering with your naptime.” The rest of the class titters, except for my friend Corrine Wilson, who looks at me with concern.
“Yeah, mind keeping it down? Whah Whah Whah. That’s what you sound like.” I can’t stop the words coming out. My heart sinks and I close my eyes. Realizing I still have some control over my own body, I place a hand over my mouth. But it’s too late; the damage has already been done.
Again.
Shocked gasps mix with nervous laughs and disapproving sneers. Mr. Sodenberg’s face puffs up red and his normally squinty eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets.
“Principal’s office. Now.”
Great. What else is new?
“…and you tell him that you are no longer welcome in my classroom. I will not tolerate this type of behavior.”
“Yes, sir.” My hand rises to my head and gives a snappy salute before I’m able to force it back down. I grab my book bag, ignoring the superior looks from my classmates. They enjoy seeing me get in trouble, as if watching the weird-freak-girl getting punished for being a weird-freak-girl makes them feel better about their simple, ordinary lives. But no matter how strange they think I might be, they’d be terrified if they knew the real truth.
As they should be.
A cool blast of air stings my face as I trudge down the school’s breezeway. I zip up my jacket and debate walking right past the principal’s office and right off campus.
I lean against a rusted locker while weighing my options. Either deal with a smart-mouthed demon hijacking my body and getting me in trouble, or, face an angry witch waiting for me at home if I ditch again.
Awesome.
Dante never covered this part in his guidebook through the nine circles of Hell. He only wrote of going to a place where demons punished sinners after their deaths. Nowhere does he mention the personal hell of having to share a body with a living demon who could torment at will, but I’m sure he would have appreciated the cruel irony. Perhaps this could have been his ‘tenth circle’.
After a few moments I decide to take my chances with the principal. My body temperature feels back to normal, so I think I’m safe for now. I can only pray. The secretary, Ms. Fleming, doesn’t even ask why I’m in here, she just gives me her usual hateful glare. I take a seat on an ugly orange chair, stare at the old Civil War photographs on the wall, and ignore her dirty looks.
Principal Winters opens his door and clears his throat. “Miss Greyson, come in.” He definitely isn’t happy to see me. But that’s the reaction of most people. Some, like Ms. Fleming, openly despise me. Others try to act nice, but I can always tell they feel uncomfortable. It’s all about the eye contact—or lack thereof. People tend to look off to the side when speaking to me, or just glance for a nanosecond before averting their gaze. Maybe eyes really are the windows to the soul, and they don’t want to see how ugly mine is.
“So, Liora, what brings you here today?” He relaxes in his chair as if we’re going to have a nice chat about the weather, his eyes focusing on the wall behind me.
I actually like Mr. Winters. He sort of reminds me of Santa Claus, and unlike his repulsive secretary, he genuinely seems to care about the students. I even give him some credit for trying to be nice to me.
“I may have nodded off in English class. Mr. Sodenberg wasn’t happy about it.”
“Ahh, yes.” He nods as if he understands completely. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Fine.”
“How are things at home?”
“Perfect.”
His smile fades. “How is your grandmother these days? I know you take care of her by yourself and that must be quite a burden for you.”
“She’s great. Absolutely no trouble at all.”
He frowns, determined to solve me…to fix me. Yeah, good luck with that.
“Are you bored in your classes, Liora?”
Why, yes. Yes I am, Principal Winters. I am bored out of my freakin’ mind! This place makes me stupider by the minute!
“No, I’m fine. Academically challenged. Intellectually stimulated.”
He ignores my sarcasm. “I’m going to be straight with you, Liora. I’m becoming very concerned with your behavior lately…”
That makes two of us…
“…this is the fourth time you’ve been sent here in the last two weeks. Skipping classes, the incident in gym…”
“I told you, that fight wasn’t my fault,” I interrupt, but there’s no point in arguing. I’m pretty sure he won’t buy my ‘a-demon-made-me-do-it’ excuse, but I’m half-tempted to say it anyway. But then he’ll just send me to the school guidance counselor aga
in, and she’ll tell Tatiana she’s concerned with my mental health again. Tatiana will have to smooth things over again and get mad at me again. Pass.
He leans forward in his chair and shuffles some papers on his desk. “There is no question you are academically gifted. Your test scores are consistently the highest in your class and your grades impeccable, despite your apparent lack of effort. Your future is wide open for any number of incredible educational and professional opportunities, if you so desired. Yet you don’t appear to care at all, and this concerns me. You seem to enjoy mocking anyone who tries to help you. I just wish I knew where this poor attitude of yours comes from.”
Trust me, you don’t want to know. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better. More caring, less mocking. I promise.” I force a smile and hope that’s the end of it.
But my optimism quickly turns into dread when the familiar stinging creeps up from my stomach, over my chest, and down my arms and legs. She’s back.
I need to get away from here. Unfortunately, Principal Winters still wants to chat. He opens a file and carefully peruses its contents. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and take several deep breaths, focusing all of my energy on remaining present and in control.
I am Liora Greyson… I am Liora Greyson… I am Liora Greyson.
But Her electric threads of fire spread throughout my body like a swarm of army ants marching to battle. A battle I will lose.
“Have you given any more thought to your plans after graduation? Mrs. Collins has reported you’ve skipped all of your college prep counseling appointments. As a senior, you don’t have much time left to get your applications in. I have taken the liberty of finding some schools…”
I am Liora Greyson. I am human. I am here. This is my time, not yours…
My silent chant goes unheeded. It’s futile to ever try to fight Her. Her energy overtakes me and again I’m nothing more than a mere spectator—a silent, powerless passenger in my own body. She fixes my gaze hypnotically on Mr. Winters, who instantly freezes and stares back.
“Mister Winters, excuse me, Principal Winters, thank you for your concern, but there’s no need to worry about me anymore. I have things figured out and will be just fine. I’m leaving now, and you won’t stop me. In fact, you’ll forget you even saw me today. Everything’s cool as far as Liora Greyson is concerned. She’s your favorite student. You adore her.” My voice sounds sweeter than sugar drenched in honey.
Still holding the file in midair, Mr. Winters nods robotically.
“You may speak.”
“Th-th-thank you…th-th-thank you for c-coming in. P-please let me know if I can h-h-help you with anything…anything at all…”
“Thank you, kind sir, I’ll be sure to do that. You have a nice day, now. Ta ta,” I sing and exit his office. One look at Ms. Fleming silences her into submission, and she stares at me like a petrified toad.
Somewhere between the dried-up flower beds outside the offices and the cracked sidewalk, Her invading force recedes, allowing me to regain control. But there is no way I’m staying in school for the rest of the day with Her acting up, regardless of the consequences waiting for me at home.
Fighting back tears of frustration, I weave my way through the collection of old pick-up trucks and rusty hand-me-downs populating the student parking lot, my mind a muddled mess. Why is She showing up when it’s not her turn? Nighttime belongs to her, but the day belongs to me. And why is Tatiana forcing me to participate in this ridiculous charade of being a normal teenage girl anyway? Clearly it’s impossible. I am anything but normal and trying to act as if I am is nothing more than a masochistic exercise in futility.
But despite everything I’m feeling at this moment, it’s the helplessness that bothers me the most. Not having control over my own life. Always being at the mercy of others with powers greater than mine.
I am so freaking over it.
“Hi there, Miss…excuse me?” I don’t even notice the lanky guy leaning against the side of a shiny black pickup truck until he calls to me. I want to ignore him and keep moving, but I can’t. His voice is like an invisible lasso pulling me back.
“Yes?” I turn around slowly, wary of the stranger witnessing my mad escape. If he’s one of the school’s security guards, I’m sunk.
He slowly jogs toward me, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. This whole idea of lame, wanna-be- rent-a-cops actually providing us with any sort of ‘security’ is such a joke. All they do is bust students who don’t follow the rules. They’ll never be able to protect anyone from the real dangers lurking right under their noses.
But as he gets closer, I’m relieved to see he’s just a boy. My age. He shouldn’t care that I was ditching. I give a furtive glance around the parking lot. We’re all alone.
“Hi,” he says.
I don’t know who he is, but he’s not from around here, of that I’m certain. His shiny leather boots appear to be new and expensive and his cable-knit sweater straight off a Ralph Lauren model. But it’s the jeans that give him away. All the guys around here wear Levi’s like they’re an assigned uniform. This boy has on designer jeans. He seems out of place at a backwoods high school deep in rural Virginia. He should be strolling around a majestic estate in the English countryside or on a yacht in some ritzy ditzy marina on the coast.
“Hi,” I say, even warier now.
He grins, and his dark blue eyes catch the early morning sunlight. He’s much taller now that he’s standing right in front of me. I tilt my head to meet his amused expression. “Are you a student here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Technically, I guess.” Bring it on, Mr. Fashion Police Wanna-Be.
He chuckles, and brushes his ebony hair away from his face. “Well, then, maybe you can help me. I’m a little turned around. I’m supposed to go to the registration office to enroll for classes, but I’m not sure where it is.”
“You’re gonna start going to school here?” My pulse inexplicably speeds up at my question.
He nods. “Yup. Senior. Sucks having to start over now. Oh well.” He smiles, and I can’t help but think he could have been in a toothpaste commercial with those perfectly straight, white teeth. Definitely not from around here.
“Why would you come here?” Oh, yeah. That was smooth. I should’ve signed up to be the town greeter.
He laughs again. “Sorry?...this is Dove Creek High School, isn’t it? Home of the Fighting Spartans?” His eyes move to the large blue and white sign behind me, but never lose any of their affability.
“Well, yeah…I mean…did you just move to town or something? Like, on purpose?” Wow, am I really one of those girls who turns into a total idiot when talking to a cute guy?
“Yeah, a few weeks ago. I came to live with my uncle. He works out at the Flintridge mines. You seem so surprised. Don’t new people ever move here?”
I actually have to think about this for a moment. “Maybe, I guess. Most people just can’t wait to get out, is all. Small town. Smaller people. Not a lot going on, no reason to be here if you don’t have to be…”
Okay, I am officially one of those idiot girls. Whatever happened to ‘Hi, welcome to Dove Creek! We’re so happy you’re here. My name is Liora Greyson and I’ll be your friendly guide…’?
“I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me occupied,” he says, the twinkle back in his eyes. I like his eyes. Not just because of their cobalt color, but because they aren’t afraid of mine. “Besides, I like small towns. I’ve lived in big cities my whole life. It’s nice out here. Peaceful…quiet. You can hear yourself think.”
I scrunch my face. Why does he say that like it’s a good thing? I’d do anything not to hear the thoughts that roam through my head. Especially lately, with Her being so psychotically obsessed with suicidal vengeance.
Instead of giving him a reply that will really convince him I’m a complete freak job, I take a deep breath and point to the scene of my earlier crime. “The administration office is over there, under the archway by the flowerbe
ds. Go down that little path and it’s the first door on your right. Don’t pay any attention to the secretary. She’s a nasty troll with a stick up her butt.”
“Got it, thanks.” He squints as he surveys the unique architecture. “That sure is a strange looking building. It doesn’t even look like a school.”
Oh, I got this one. Only heard the story a million and a half times. “That’s because it used to be a Jesuit Monastery. It’s almost two hundred years old. Believe it or not, those are the original stained-glass windows.” I indicate the rotunda where broken colors catch the sun’s rays. “It was used as a hospital during the civil war, and afterwards they converted it into a school.”
Surprise colors his face. “You mean to tell me you go to a school that used to be a church?” he asks in disbelief.
“I don’t think a monastery is exactly the same thing as a church. Besides, it’s not like it’s a religious school now or anything…”
“Still…”
His reaction is confusing so I shrug again, my default response when I don’t know what to say or do. The history of Dove Creek High is a source of pride for the town-folk; I’ve never seen anyone bothered by it before. And that was my only small-talk ace up my sleeve. Great.
“Is there a place of worship in there? An altar or a prayer room?”
And now he’s freaked. Good going, Liora.
“Um…well, the building with all the stained glass windows used to be a chapel. But now we just use it as the auditorium. No one actually prays there.” Maybe’s he’s some sort of religious nut? Figures. All hot guys have a major flaw somewhere.
He considers this for a moment. “Fascinating,” he finally murmurs. When he catches my quizzical glance he quickly adds, “I just didn’t expect such a small town to have such an interesting landmark is all.”
Shrug number five. “It’s about the only interesting thing about this place. It’s all downhill from here.” Yup. I’m nothing if not consistent.
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