The Sacrifice of Sunshine Girl

by Paige McKenzie

  No. And I’d like to keep it that way.

  But he’s going to kill her. I thought you wanted to prevent that.

  I intend to kill him first.

  That means—

  Yes, I’m fully aware. There is no other option.

  “Markons can kill luiseach, can’t they?” I say slowly.

  Aidan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. I know.

  “Why did you lie to me?”

  “I did not lie. I simply obscured the truth. I had to protect you. If you knew, you might become frightened and lose your focus. These are dangerous times, and I need you at your best, at your sharpest.”

  I squeeze my fists. I want to yell, scream, demand to know why he always keeps things from me, manipulates me, tries to control me… all in the name of “protecting” me.

  But at the moment my brain is stuck on the other thing.

  Markons can kill luiseach.

  The Book of Prophecy

  Honestly, he started it.

  Or rather, his ancestors did: the Original Ones, the high-and-mighty King Adis and Queen Uiri.

  That war changed everything. Until then the three of us—my brothers and I—ruled the world. The luiseach were… nothing. Mere annoyances, like mosquitoes on a glorious summer night. Under our guidance our dark servants were free to possess as they pleased, gathering energy and more energy every time they performed a soul termination.

  Of course we let the luiseach have a crumb here and there… the occasional moving-on of a light spirit. We wanted them to feel useful, important. Duped into thinking that the balance was actually equitable, that they were fulfilling their stupid, saintly mission.

  Then the balance began to shift in the other direction. The luiseach grew stronger; their number grew. More and more light spirits moved on successfully. Eventually the luiseach started interfering with our soul terminations and even managed to terminate many of our own.

  When Adis and Uiri declared war on us—actually declared war as though the luiseach were some sort of sovereign nation—we were surprised: Were they that arrogant to think they could shift the balance entirely? But we were not unprepared. My brothers and I terminated most of the first wave of luiseach soldiers, and our dark servants managed to capture the rest.

  The luiseach would not surrender, though. Such persistent, pesky mosquitoes. The battle raged on for years, unbeknownst to most of the humans on the planet—among other things, because there happened to be other wars going on at the same time. The tribal conflicts in Europe and China and Africa and so forth. We fought, dark against light, across several continents…

  … and also in the invisible realm.

  That’s where things got messy.

  How did Adis and Uiri know to do that? Sacrifice themselves to fight against Markons in the spiritual plane? That is a highly protected secret from the Book of Prophecy that is known only to the top echelon of our kind.

  In the end I barely escaped.

  My dear brothers perished, as did Adis and Uiri, who remained in the spiritual plane too long.

  After news reached our dark servants that two of their three leaders had been terminated, many of them fled, vanished into the void. The luiseach declared victory, and Adis and Uiri’s eldest daughter, Laoise, immediately took the reins.

  I ordered my remaining servants to retreat. For almost two millennia. It was not an admission of defeat—far from it. Instead, I used the time to mobilize.

  Now the time of mobilizing is over. The prophecy is unfolding. I am ready to engage again, and I have brought some very fine reinforcements.

  One in particular.

  Our victory will be swift, and the aftermath will be glorious. Brutal. Bloody.

  Perhaps I shall get a new hat for the occasion?

  CHAPTER 15

  More Questions

  At noon I head outside to meet up with Lucio and Nolan in the school parking lot. Only seniors are allowed to leave the building at lunchtime, but I managed to sneak out a back entrance. I think Nolan convinced one of the secretaries in the front office that he had a doctor’s appointment. He can be very convincing, not like Aidan-mind-control-convincing, but convincing in that he’s a nerdy, straight-A student with zero detentions on his record so no one would ever suspect him of breaking the rules.

  Outside it seems like the temperature has fallen since this morning—it feels more like November than April—so I button my vintage poodle sweater all the way up to my neck. My fingers stumble on Helena’s gold chain, which I tuck carefully under the collar of my Beatles T-shirt.

  Did the mystery necklace save me from the SUV this morning? Was Helena telling the truth about the necklace’s powers, after all? It has activated at least twice so far—with the SUV and with the Kirsten spirit.

  Why does Helena seem more interested than Aidan in keeping me safe from Dubu?

  Because, news flash, Aidan whatever-your-last-name-is, not cluing me in to the fact that Markons can kill luiseach is not keeping me safe. It’s the opposite, in fact.

  The two guys are waiting for me next to Nolan’s Chrysler.

  Nolan smiles happily when he sees me. Then his smile vanishes.

  “What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” I reassure him.

  “No, you’re not. What happened?”

  “Sunshine?” Lucio pipes up, sounding concerned.

  I can’t seem to keep anything from Nolan. Or Lucio, for that matter. Taking a deep breath, I tell them everything that’s transpired in the last twelve hours, starting with my dream/vision mash-up and ending with the SUV incident.

  “Whoah, what?” Lucio bursts out when I’m finished. “Dubu tried to run you over with a car? Are you all right? Was Aidan with you?”

  “Maybe, sort of, and yes. We don’t know for sure it was Dubu. But Aidan used this ancient silver thingy and found out that a Markon had touched the car at some point. He detected a—what did he call it?—an energy signature.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Lucio says.

  Nolan opens his mouth to say something but clamps it shut and hugs me fiercely instead. The hug is brief, and I barely register the usual queasiness. In fact, I feel warm in a wonderful, swoony way. I’ve missed being held by him; it’s only been a few days but it seems like an eternity.

  Over Nolan’s shoulder I can see Lucio watching us. I experience a twinge of guilt, but maybe that’s dumb? Lucio and I are just friends, and I’ve never let him think it can be any more than that.

  Except for that almost-kiss thing in Mexico.

  Nolan’s lips graze my hair as he pulls away. He clears his throat and extracts his notebook from his pocket and begins busily flipping through pages.

  “I need to write all this down. You said Aidan used some kind of ancient silver object to detect a Markon energy signature?”

  “Yes. He referred to it as a ‘device.’ He said it’s from the Renaissance period. Is that possible? Did they make things like that during the Renaissance? It seemed very… Star Trek, futuristic.”

  “I never saw anything like that at Llevar la Luz,” Lucio says. “But I do know that the luiseach have always been crazy advanced in terms of science and technology. Sunshine, are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. Really. Although…” I sigh. “I need to tell you guys one more thing. Apparently Markons—” I stop, flustered. I’m not sure how they’ll react to this, especially Lucio.

  “Sunshine?” Lucio prompts me.

  Nolan reaches over and squeezes my arm gently, encouragingly.

  “Okay, here goes. Markons can kill luiseach,” I blurt out. “Did you guys know that? Did you, Lucio?”

  Lucio’s jaw drops. Fear flickers in his big brown eyes. “What? No! I didn’t even know Markons existed until, like, three days ago!”

  “Wait a second here. I thought demons and dark spirits were incapable of doing permanent damage to luiseach,” Nolan points out.<
br />
  “Apparently, regular old demons and dark spirits are. But Markons have extra-special powers or whatever. According to Aidan, anyway.”

  “How does Aidan happen to have this information?” asks Nolan.

  “He didn’t give me any details. Besides, I was too busy being super-mad at him for once again trying to keep stuff from me and treating me like I’m a child. Because, you know, I apparently can’t handle the truth. Does he not realize that—”

  Voices.

  I stop midsentence as a couple of senior girls approach the Chrysler. They glance at us curiously. I smile hello at them and pretend to check my phone. Nolan and Lucio pretend to check their phones too.

  The two girls pass by us, talking animatedly.

  “So I heard Melissa tried to poison her boyfriend Omar with rat poison or something. He’s in the hospital now in intensive care,” one of them says.

  “Oh my gosh, that’s horrible. Is everyone going insane around here?” says the other.

  “Yeah, well, did you hear about the—”

  Their voices fade as they get into a silver Mini Cooper. A moment later they drive away.

  I whirl around and gape at Nolan and Lucio. “Did you guys know about that?”

  “I read about it in the Ridgemont Herald this morning. Melissa DeYoung and Omar Hassam, who were seniors here last year, I believe,” Nolan replies.

  “What’s happening? Ridgemont used to be so peaceful. Well, pretty peaceful anyway,” I amend.

  Nolan pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’m not sure. But didn’t Aidan or Helena say something to you about increased demonic activity? This incident sounds consistent with that.”

  “Also the arson at the mall and that nurse at the hospital,” Lucio adds. “I’m going to text Aidan and make sure he knows about the poisoning thing. If not, we need to track this Melissa girl. She might be possessed? Which means we need to unpossess her ASAP.”

  “Good idea,” I agree.

  While Lucio texts Aidan, Nolan pulls me aside.

  He points to his notes. “Listen. The stuff you just told us—something doesn’t add up. Not to bring up a grim subject, but… if Markons can kill luiseach, and a fifth luiseach death would activate the pentagram spell, then why hasn’t Dubu killed you yet? I mean, yes, I know he may have been behind the SUV incident this morning. But what about before? You said you’ve been seeing him for a while now, right?”

  “Um…”

  I bite my lip and scrunch up my nose. Why hasn’t Dubu killed me yet? Not that I enjoy thinking about that prospect. Far from it. But Nolan is right—it doesn’t add up.

  “Also, why you? Why not kill Lucio or Aidan or Helena? They’re here in Ridgemont too. Wouldn’t their deaths activate the pentagram spell too?” Nolan goes on.

  “Um…”

  Nolan is right about that too.

  What are we missing?

  Is there some reason Dubu has picked me to be the fifth luiseach victim? Is it because I’m the luiseach to end all luiseach, as Aidan claims?

  Or does Dubu plan to cast a wider net and go after other luiseach too?

  CHAPTER 16

  Demon Drama Detox

  No, Griffith. This is how you make a rose! Watch and learn.”

  Tiffany Ramirez rolls her eyes like I’m very, very hopeless. She picks up a green pipe cleaner and slowly, deliberately twists it around a blob of pink crepe paper.

  I watch. And learn. And wonder for the millionth time why I let Ashley talk me into joining the spring dance committee. It’s pretty much the polar opposite of everything I’m interested in, not to mention the fact that I’m kind of busy these days with my luiseach duties plus trying to stay alive plus a million other demon-related things.

  But Ashley can be very persuasive. She said I needed some “demon drama detox.”

  Oh, well. I guess it can’t hurt to do normal once in a while.

  Tiffany and I are in one of the large second-floor classrooms—a history classroom, judging by the brightly colored maps and timelines on the walls—with a dozen other committee members. I recognize a few faces but don’t really know any of them by name. Tiffany and I are on decoration duty. Some other people are listening to music demo reels and debating live bands versus DJs, indie versus pop. Everyone else is working on posters or social media. At my old high school in Austin I never went to any dances, so this is all new to me. I don’t even listen to music from this decade—another thing on Ashley’s “to do” list for me.

  Sigh.

  Ashley is right. I do need something to distract me from all the dark stuff in my life these days. I’m trying to save humanity from getting overtaken by demons. I’m also still reeling from Aidan’s very awful and very scary Markon revelation. I knew luiseach weren’t immortal—even though we can live long, long lives, we can also die. We are not invulnerable. Lucio’s parents died, thanks to Helena. I almost died twice, thanks to Helena, and on a few other occasions too, including the demon pit incident in Victoria’s front yard.

  And of course, those four luiseach died—the ones in Japan, Easter Island, Russia, and Australia. I wonder how they died? Did Dubu kill them? I’m sure many other luiseach have died too throughout our long history.

  So yes, I am fully aware that luiseach are totally and completely mortal. Still, the fact that Markons can kill us—that Dubu could kill me, if he wanted—adds a whole other layer of terror to the big picture. It also raises more questions. Am I definitely the top candidate for the fifth luiseach death, the one that’s supposed to take place in Ridgemont? Or are Lucio, Helena, and Aidan candidates too? Does Dubu plan to eliminate one of us personally?

  If it’s me, can Helena’s necklace really save me and, by extension, save the world, as my death would set off the pentagram spell?

  And is all the scary stuff that’s been happening in Ridgemont this past week the equivalent of the “increased demonic activity” that those four other places experienced before the luiseach deaths?

  Enough. I need to start thinking about crepe-paper roses. Even if it’s just for the next hour. Demon drama detox.

  And then I’ll be all refreshed and ready to defend humanity from the darkness…

  “Where’s your friend? Isn’t she supposed to be here too?” Tiffany asks me as she squeezes pink glitter glue onto a piece of crepe paper.

  “Ashley had to stop by the bio lab. She should be here soon.”

  “Awesome. We need lots of volunteers. So do you have a date for the dance yet?”

  “I do!”

  “Wow, really? Who?”

  “My boyfriend!” I love saying those words: my boyfriend. I think I’m still allowed to call him that, even though he’s pretending we’re just friends until the doomsday crisis is over. “His name is Nolan.” I twirl the pipe cleaner in my hand and smile secretly—when Nolan and I first met, in Victoria’s art class, he and I were making pipe-cleaner sculptures.

  “You mean Nolan Foster?” Tiffany shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I can see the appeal. If you like that type. What are you going to wear?”

  If I like that type? “I’m not sure. Ashley wants to take me shopping.”

  “I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?” Tiffany raises one eyebrow and looks me up and down, taking in my Beatles T-shirt, bell-bottom jeans, and pilly, pet-hair-covered vintage poodle cardigan. “No offense, Griffith, but you could use some fashion advice.”

  I blink. I think she just insulted me. Yup, she definitely insulted me. Twice. I try to think of a clever comeback, but I’m so not good at those. If and when I ever think of a snappy retort, it usually happens a week later and in the middle of the night.

  I seethe silently instead. Besides, why am I surprised? Tiffany has never been all that nice to me. Or to anyone, as far as I can tell. Only when she wants something, like my free labor for her spring dance committee.

  “Why are you twisting your rose into a pretzel?” Tiffany asks.

  “What? Oh!”

  “Excuse me, hello.�
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  Tiffany and I turn around. It’s Bastian Jansen from English class. He’s dressed in his usual outfit of khakis, white button-down, and baggy navy blazer, and he’s dragging his rolling backpack behind him.

  He frowns at a flier in his hand—not Tiffany’s flier but a blue one with a picture of a chessboard on it. He clears his throat. “Is this… no, it’s obviously not. The chess club, I mean. Don’t they meet in this room?”

  “On Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Tiffany explains. “The spring dance committee has the room Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Why don’t you stay since you’re here anyway? Bennett, right?” She thrusts a handful of green pipe cleaners and pink crepe paper at him.

  “B-but—” he stammers.

  “Welcome to our little group! ’Scuse me, I need to check on the website design. Sunshine here can show you how to do this. You’ve got this, right, Griffith? Try not to mess it up!”

  She flashes one of her sparkly purple smiles at Bastian and me before making her way over to a computer station.

  I seethe some more.

  “I’m very sorry,” Bastian apologizes. He starts to return the pipe cleaners and crepe paper to the table, but he misses, and they tumble to the floor. He bends down to pick them up. “I should go. I am not meant to be here.”

  “I don’t want to be here either,” I joke. “Peer pressure.”

  Bastian nods and gives me an awkward wave and takes off, pulling his rolling backpack behind him. What an odd guy. I can’t tell if he’s super-shy or what. But I also know what it’s like to be different, so I shouldn’t be judgey.

  In English earlier today and also yesterday I watched him, wondering why he reacted to the Wesley spirit on Monday. But he didn’t do or say anything peculiar—just kept his head down and doodled a lot. Maybe Nolan is right: maybe Bastian is simply extra-sensitive to the spiritual world, as some humans can be.

  I step on something. There’s a faded brown leather wallet on the floor. I reach down to retrieve it.

  I open the wallet. It’s Bastian’s; it must have fallen out of his pocket. There’s a learner’s permit inside with his full name—Sebastian Andras Jansen—and address and birthdate and other personal information. His last address was in Washington, DC. He turned sixteen in January. Next to the learner’s permit is a school ID from somewhere called the Wheedon Academy.