The Demon's Grave

by E. M. MacCallum

“You started to.”

  “That’s right. We saw Robin and blah, blah, blah,” Phoebe sat at the edge of her seat, refusing to remove the hiker’s pack. “It was kind of weird. Hadn’t had that dream since I was a kid.”

  I thought of the spiders that had scampered through my last few nights. “What kind of dream?”

  Phoebe started cracking her knuckles. “It was one where people were in my house and my family was being hurt and I couldn’t do anything to help them and they kept trying to tell me things but none of it ever made sense.”

  “Do you remember what they were saying?”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes when I wake up but that’s about it.”

  “It’s kind of a coincidence. I had an old dream about spiders.” I played with the zipper on my bag.

  Phoebe leaned back as far as her pack would allow. “I didn’t know that. I remember that spider dream you used to have. With the scorpion, right?”

  I nodded after a hesitation, feeling my heart skip a beat. I’d forgotten about the scorpion. “Has there been anything weird other than just nightmares?”

  After a prolonged silence I glanced at her and she motioned frantically for me to continue.

  “Messages,” I paused avoiding her stare. “I’ve been getting really messed up messages.”

  “Like what?”

  I told her about my notebook, the shower and the mirror. I told her everything, keeping my voice down as I rambled for the rest of our ride. It felt good to tell someone. Inch by inch I was pulling free from the anxiety.

  Phoebe held the inquisitive expression even during the strangest portions of my story. I had hoped that she had an answer to solve my problem, but she wasn’t offering any right away.

  “I thought maybe it was a warning,” I said.

  “You didn’t have any weird experiences yesterday though?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s the note?” Phoebe asked.

  I stared at her for several seconds, feeling the panic beginning to rise in the back of my head. She didn’t believe me. Would she tell anyone else? The rest of the gang might laugh it off, but my mom wouldn’t and I had no idea how my dad would react. “Um…‌it’s at home.” I decided to omit the fact that I’d thrown it out.

  Phoebe looked toward the back of the bus, not divulging a hint of what she might be thinking. “Have you told anyone else?”

  “No,” I said, too quickly, “please though, Phoebe? Don’t tell anyone.”

  Turning her head back to me, she didn’t make eye contact, but offering a slight nod. “Maybe it was just stress, Fuller.”

  She did think I was nuts.

  Only Phoebe and Cody knew why my family moved to Leland when I was younger. I kind of wanted to keep it that way.

  “You’re probably right.” The lie strained my voice.

  We fell quiet for several seconds, sitting side by side as the bus stopped to let on more people.

  The snap of each one of her knuckles was producing an internal flinch. I wanted her to stop acting nervous and support me, but she wasn’t helping me like I’d hoped. Persistent, I tried to move the subject forward, hoping to jostle the protective-Phoebe I had depended on all these years. “Thought about talking to him, but…‌”

  She snorted and the old-Phoebe presented itself again. “You’ve always avoided him. He’s not a bad guy, you know. He helped me when Re…‌” Her tongue seemed to tie itself.

  So Aidan knew what was happening between Read and Phoebe. I felt the knife twist in my chest. Phoebe and I had been friends since we were kids, we told each other almost everything. When did this stop? I wondered, hurt.

  “At the Splitz party four months ago,” Phoebe continued as if she hadn’t stopped, “he paid for Robin and Cody’s cab. Read seems to like him and Read normally just likes things with tits. I mean, that in itself should say something. If you think about it, Aidan was always moved around because of his parents, we’re kind of his first friends.”

  “He told you that?” I asked.

  “No, Read did once. Aidan’s not out for pity.” Phoebe snapped a disapproving glance in my direction.

  Raising one hand defensively, I said. “Okay, okay, he’s an awesome piece of work. I’m a bitch with low self-esteem or some lame psycho-analytical bull crap.”

  Phoebe burst out laughing, making me jump. She patted my arm as the bus pulled up to our stop. “Come on, you sarcastic, psycho bitch. We have a party to start.”

  Stepping down the tall steps we were on the four lane avenue just a block from Aidan’s‌—‌according to Phoebe. The houses were well kept and older with mowed lawns and rainbow inspired flower gardens.

  Waiting for me to catch up and the bus’s doors to close, Phoebe said. “I think you’ll be just fine. Once the finals are over in a few weeks we’ll have all summer to avoid Aidan if you want.”

  I tried to smile, finding it difficult. “I shouldn’t be trying to avoid him,” I admitted reluctantly. “I should be getting to know him. I just get a freaky vibe off of him.”

  Phoebe cocked her head to the side, her pale eyebrows raised in question.

  Shaking my head I waved it off. “Forget about it. It’s not important.”

  She cleared her throat and Phoebe’s playful tone darkened. “Well, don’t go telling anyone else about the messages. At least not yet,” Phoebe’s dark green eyes met mine. “If you see or hear more, talk to me. K?”

  I almost glared at her. This was the end of my argument. She wasn’t willing to hear me out. Though if I were her, I wouldn’t want to believe my friend was insane either.

  After a hesitation I nodded. “I’ll talk to you.”

  The overcast of awkward silence hovered until we turned onto Shirley Street. Phoebe started to crack her knuckles again and I tried to find something interesting in the older houses. One in particular had chalk writing on the individual bricks. A child’s wobbly, block writing proclaiming that it was the R-O-B-I-N-S-O-N-H-O-U-S-E. Then below it said: R-O-B-B-Y. Robby Robinson…‌poor kid.

  “So,” Phoebe whistled. “How did your essay go with Professor Chase?”

  I could have hugged her. “I think I did okay, but then today she gave us another pop quiz.”

  “How exciting,” Phoebe sneered. “I told you English majors were jerks.”

  I tried not to smile. “It would have been fine except for that random bonus question.”

  “Hey, at least you got a chance to up your mark. I don’t think McCaully takes questions from our text books. What was the question anyway?” McCaully was a hated prof of Phoebe’s. He taught a biology class while my Professor Chase taught my Classic Authors class.

  “Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together. Who was that quote by?”

  Phoebe snorted and popped a piece of gum in her mouth, offering me some.

  “Yeah I got it wrong too.” I politely declined the Juicy Fruit.

  “Who quoted it? Shakespeare or something?” Phoebe stuck her tongue out, the gum wrapped around the tip. She crossed her eyes for added effect.

  Rolling my eyes at her, I was smiling. “Johann W. von Goethe.”

  “Bless you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He wrote Faust.”

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “Forget I asked. I don’t know how you can even study English as a major. You speak it, read it, what else is there to know? The way online trolls are now-a-days, no one in thirty years will know that the word ‘you’ contains more than one letter.”

  “Aren’t you just glass-half-full today,” I said and was hip checked hard enough to stumble off the sidewalk.

  Catching my balance I giggled and realized I was feeling better. Phoebe and I talked about a few good memories from the past year, both of us careful to avoid both Read and Aidan’s names. Phoebe was fond of the time the two of us and Cody sat around and mixed pop rocks with Pepsi. We were only eight at the time and were convinced we were badass
until Cody freaked out and started to cry. He thought our stomachs were going to explode and wanted Phoebe to call an ambulance. Instead, we found Cody’s dad and all he could repeat was that Cody must have been constipated. That summer we learned that mixing pop rocks and Pepsi wasn’t deadly, but also the definition of constipation. We held that over Cody’s head for an entire school year.

  Shirley Street was a quiet little suburb with overgrown trees and lengthy front lawns. Unlike the newer areas, there was actual space between the houses.

  Phoebe’s cell phone went off, playing a Metallica song. “Cody?” She asked with a brilliant smile. “You better have gotten me my schnapps, or I’ll be pissed.”

  We saw the house number and Phoebe motioned for me to go ahead of her.

  I stopped in my tracks. The Birket residence was a single-story brick home with brown shingles and overgrown shrubs. The windows were dark, leaving not hint of life beyond the glass. Twisting, I looked to Phoebe, pleading with my eyes.

  She produced a very disappointed sigh and said into the phone. “Yeah we’re here already. Fuller was just about to let Aidan know we’re here.” Stepping into me, she shoved the flat of her hand into my back, pushing me up the walk. My sneakers clomped along the narrow sidewalk with the shove. I slowed afterward, hoping she’d be off the phone by the time I reached the door.

  Unfortunately, I think she kept talking to Cody‌—‌who we all know rarely speaks‌—‌on purpose.

  Fine, I straightened my spine. I’m not a little kid anymore. She was right to make me do this alone. Though it didn’t mean I’d have to like it. Maybe Read was here ahead of us. If Cody was on the phone with Phoebe that meant he and Robin were still behind.

  The hair-raising prickle snaked under my skin. I smoothed out my camisole and jean shorts with one hand, trying to make my twitch look natural. Aidan was approaching the door, I knew.

  Phoebe’s voice droned on behind me between barking laughs and the occasional crude joke.

  As I raised my free fist to knock, the door swung open.

  Aidan popped into view and I swallowed the shriek, jumping instead.

  “Hi Nora,” he said looking past me at Phoebe, then that stare zapped me and his lips formed a polite smile. “You’re the first to arrive.” He sounded pleased.

  At least one of us was a good liar.

  My attempt to match the enthusiasm was awkward so I ditched the quivering smile. “Phoebe’s just on the phone with Cody.” I thrust a thumb over my shoulder. I felt like an idiot trying to make a conversation out of the obvious. Looking back, Phoebe waved at Aidan.

  “Uh huh,” Aidan stepped out of the way, inviting me in with a sweep of his arm.

  Here goes nothin’.

  I forced my legs to move until I heard the door latch behind me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With Aidan behind me, the familiar vibration of his closeness made me shiver.

  With a jerky hand, I brushed invisible hair behind my ears to look around.

  The house was small and convenient, retaining a lingering musky scent.

  Heavy curtains were all drawn, the lamps attempting to brighten the dark space. I’m pretty sure his parents had managed to collect every book with unrecognizable symbols and languages just to taunt a visitor’s intelligence.

  The walls were filled with graceful oil paintings beside masks from Africa and Asia. The house held a dim atmosphere, making it almost eerie. At my feet there was a brown, shag carpet and the far end of the living room there was a one wall that was entirely made of red bricks. Shelves were overflowing with foreign treasures. The furniture was (not surprisingly) dark as well. A sofa sat adjacent from a fifty inch television screen while a leather Lay-Z-Boy snuggled against the far wall beside a mahogany side table. I could almost hear my mother decorating their house.

  Noticing my pause he said. “My parents are archeologists. They’re off in Mexico at the moment.”

  “Working?” I asked.

  “No, vacation, but knowing them they’ll probably find another sponsor or project while they’re there.” Aidan motioned me to follow, leading me past the television and into the red and white kitchen filled with shiny appliances.

  The kitchen almost looked like a show-home, especially compared to the living room. The contrast between the two rooms was almost like I stepped into an entirely new house.

  I set my duffel bag of clothes on the floor and plopped my grocery bag full of chips, chocolate and jujubes on the kitchen table.

  Aidan tracked my movements, leaving ample room between us. He’d dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans but there was something different in his look. One thing I noticed right away was that he bothered to shave the stubble and his hair had been combed for once. I’d been so used to the disheveled, sleepy look that I realized I was staring and he was staring right back.

  Rigid, I lowered myself into white chair at the table. The looming silence rang more shrilly than the brakes on the bus. It made the creaking chair beneath me sound damn near explosive.

  To alleviate the tension, I attempted a nervous smile. When he didn’t smile back I asked, trying to keep my voice soft so not to disturb the quiet, “We’re not supposed to go, are we.” It wasn’t a question and I’m not sure what made me blurt it out like that, except that the silence was making every second feel like minutes.

  “What?” Aidan’s straight eyebrows pinched before he pressed his fingers to his temples and looked away.

  Sighing, I took a deep breath, preparing myself to say something that I wasn’t entirely prepared to say. I had no intention of telling him about the messages but maybe I could say what I was feeling? A smidgen of what I was thinking? Ooooh, that could be awkward afterward.

  Luckily, Aidan’s raised his hand to hold me off and cleared his throat before he brought probing pale eyes back up to meet me. “Nora,” he said as if saying my name might make his teeth stop gritting. “Everyone is pumped to go. If you don’t want to go, then don’t. I’m not forcing anyone…‌”

  He had a point. Though I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  “…‌Especially you.”

  Ouch.

  “But I think they’d miss you.” His shoulders wouldn’t relax and he stared blank-faced at the fridge instead.

  “Why not have something at your apartment or we could find a place near a lake?” I asked, wishing his fists would uncurl. I shifted in the creaky chair again and winced.

  “For starters, this doesn’t have noise constrictions and it’s free,” Aidan opened the fridge. “Want anything to drink?”

  The question was simple enough, though it somehow seemed inappropriate. My heart was beating a thousand times a second, my throat was closing up and my hands were sweating. Of course I didn’t want something to drink! “There’s been nightmares…‌”

  “You want me to tell everyone to go home because of nightmares.” His eyes flickered over the refrigerator door and found me.

  There it was.

  “You too?” This time my throat did close and the words came out a whisper.

  Shutting the door with a jerk, Aidan leaned back against the cupboard and crossed his arms. “Everyone has nightmares, Nora.”

  Why was it each time he said my name it sounded condescending?

  “Mine was about spiders,” I tried to coax. “Phoebe’s had some too.”

  Aidan’s gaze turned icy and he shook his head at me. “Listen, I know you don’t like me.”

  I opened my mouth to politely protest, but nothing came out.

  “And I don’t know what reason I gave you,” he continued, “but I would really like to go this year. I know it’s selfish of me because they were your friends first, but I’m willing to keep out of your way and I’m sure we can both have a good time.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say. To avoid his eyes, I focused on his boyish nose and clasped clammy hands together on my lap. He’d caught on to my discomfort after all, and why wouldn’t he? I didn’t hide it as well a
s I should have. He’d probably be happier if I didn’t go. It explained why he’d sometimes bail if I showed up unexpectedly to certain parties throughout the year. If I were him, I wouldn’t want me there either.

  What was I thinking? Asking him to change the venue because of nightmares? Of course, he’d scoff at some silly girl with a head full of nonsense.

  Not looking up, I croaked. “I’m sorry.”

  At the edge of my vision I could see Aidan go rigid, as if he expected a trick.

  I peeked at him, my chin tilted down to try and hide my scarlet face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

  Yes, I did and I knew that, but I wasn’t about to tell him. I was already feeling rather disgusted with myself.

  “No?” He didn’t sound convinced. “I like you and your friends. You’re some of the only people I don’t feel like an outsider with. Have you ever been alone before, Nora? Like really alone?”

  I didn’t answer, couldn’t. It would mean thinking about it.

  Taking my muteness for a negative, he continued. “My family moved around so much I hardly had time to make a friend before we were moving again.”

  Not wanting to feel the weight of guilt any longer I blurted. “I’ll come. But only if you still want me to. If you don’t, which I don’t blame you, I’ll tell everyone I’m sick.”

  Aidan hesitated before finally shaking his head. “I would really like it if you came.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He attempted a polite smile which failed before he could look away.

  The doorbell rang and we both jumped at the same time.

  “I’ll be right back. Ok, Nora?”

  He didn’t look or wait for an answer before heading through the archway.

  Alone, I mulled over our conversation. What a nice awkward beginning to a sleepover, I thought, leaning my head back against the wall and rolling my eyes heavenward.

  Phoebe’s barking laughter from the entry made me feel instant relief. She and Aidan weren’t alone when they walked into the kitchen.

  Read was following close behind. “Hi Nora,” he greeted, sitting next to me. His dark hair was gelled to perfection. Why he wasn’t a model or actor, I’d never know.