Demon Derby

by Carrie Harris

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, looking around wildly. “More of those things?”

  “No.” I tried to get ahold of myself. “What’s that?”

  She shook the bobblehead. And now that I knew about the soul jars, I imagined I could hear it screaming wordlessly in panic or pain, trying desperately to get the attention of people who would never realize they were looking at an instrument of torture. The worst part? I wasn’t entirely sure I was imagining it.

  “Limited-edition derby bobblehead. They were giving them out at the bar. Didn’t you get one?”

  She thrust it toward me, and I backed up. “No!” Now she was looking at me very cautiously, and I realized I’d better tone it down. If she figured out that I suspected she was a demon, she’d have no reason to continue the charade of normalcy. And from the way Michael had reacted, defeating her wouldn’t be as easy as defeating 693. If you’d call that easy. “You’re losing it,” she said.

  “Uh … yeah. Maybe a little.” I forced a laugh, leaning against the car as casually as possible. “Can you blame me?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Actually, I’m going nuts here. Will you please tell me what the heck is going on? I’ll buy you pancakes. I think better while I’m eating.”

  The rest of the Apocalypsies came out the door then, buying me a little time to figure out how to handle this. They were laughing and shoving each other over some joke that was apparently both very funny and very offensive. And every one of them had a derby bobblehead in her hands.

  “No fighting.” Ragnarocker charged over and clapped beefy arms around each of our necks. “You two need to kiss and make up.”

  “No kissing,” Ruthanasia said.

  “Definitely not,” I echoed. “But things are cool.”

  “Good.” Ragnarocker smelled like the inside of a brewery; either someone had spilled a drink on her or she had a fake ID. Her bobblehead was about two inches from my face. And this close, there was no denying the fact that there was a soul in there. The plastic figure looked ready to cry any second now. If I didn’t get away from it, I might join in.

  I wiggled out from under her arm. “So … uh. Do you have a ride home, Rock?”

  She nodded and jerked a thumb toward Hoosya Mama. “She’s taking me. She owes me one after she elbowed my face.”

  “I did not!” Mama yelled, grinning.

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

  They staggered off down the row of cars, arguing amicably the entire way. We watched them until the red taillights of Mama’s car left the parking lot.

  People spilled out of the bar, until the lot was more crowded than the bar had been earlier. A few people got into their cars, but most hung around outside the doors, chatting and smoking and being generally obnoxious. Apparently the party was over. The rest of the girls clustered around, organizing rides and making plans for an after-after-party.

  I was surrounded by bobbleheads. Within seconds, breathing became a struggle. It felt like I was walking into a tiny, windowless room full of chain-smokers with particularly stinky cigars. The stench wasn’t physical, but that didn’t make it any less real. I started coughing and couldn’t stop.

  Barbageddon pounded me on the back. “You okay?” I nodded, rubbing my watery eyes. At least the coughing gave me an excuse for being teary. “This after-party is lame. Everyone’s invited to my place,” she said. “You want to come?”

  “No thanks. I think if I party any harder, the world might explode from awesomeness.” I grinned, trying to take the sting out of the rejection, and she laughed.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, hobbling off across the parking lot. “I’ll see you at practice. Don’t kill each other!”

  I looked hesitantly at Ruthanasia. It wasn’t safe to be alone with her, but how would I get any info on what was going on if I didn’t take that risk? I didn’t know what to do, and it was only a matter of time before someone noticed my shaking. I just wanted to go home and hide under the covers. But there was no way I could do that after what I’d seen. Which sucked.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to whirl around and take their head off. Didn’t anyone realize I was about five seconds away from losing it completely? Of course, I didn’t want them to realize it, but I was hoping for a little subconscious recognition here.

  “I just wanted to know if you want a ride,” Darcy said. “Unless you’re going to the after-after-party?”

  I looked between Darcy and Ruthanasia, and now I had an idea. This was the perfect way to stay safe and keep an eye on the demon girl at the same time. Pancakes. What could go wrong in the middle of an all-night diner? Especially if I had backup.

  “Actually,” I said to Darcy, “we were just talking about pancakes. You want some?”

  “Gosh, yes,” she gushed. “I’m so hungry.”

  Ruthanasia scowled at Darcy, and the fact that she clearly didn’t want her along made me feel like I’d done the right thing. I relaxed just a little. “Are we waiting for your boyfriend too?” Ruthanasia snapped.

  I wasn’t about to admit that he wasn’t here, because that might be an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. “There’s no way we’ll find him in all this crazy. I’ll text him so he can catch up in a little bit.”

  So I did. And then Ruthanasia led the way through the crowded parking lot toward her car. Navigation was much easier with her in the lead. People tended to step out of the way when they saw her coming, like she had some strange force field of kickassery. Or maybe they were just sensing the fact that she was a demon in disguise. I’d disliked her from the start; maybe I’d subconsciously realized it too.

  She fished a set of keys out of her pocket and pointed toward a surprisingly generic four-door. “That’s me over there. There’s a twenty-four-hour Denny’s not too far from here if that sounds good to you.”

  “Sounds heavenly,” I said.

  “Totally,” added Darcy.

  Ruthanasia leaned over to unlock the car, and I noticed for the first time how thin her face was. Maybe it was seeing her without her makeup for once, but I’d never realized how deep the shadows under her eyes went. I would have thought she had a pair of shiners instead of just one, but it looked deeper than that, the kind of weariness that went down to the bone. She looked fragile—no, that wasn’t the word. She looked damaged.

  Maybe I was judging her too harshly. Michael had admitted he was theorizing about the demon thing. He’d only been here for less than a year; he was still learning too. Maybe she deserved saving just as much as the bobbleheads did.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She sat in the driver’s seat, and I walked around to the passenger’s side and settled down beside her. “Considering what happened tonight, yeah. Mostly,” she said finally.

  Darcy flung the back door open, making us both jump. “So listen,” she said, and for the first time in ages, she sounded like old hyperactive Darcy again. At least something was going well. “You have got to tell me about those funky guys with the crazy faces. You know, the ones you beat the bleep out of in the bathroom?”

  “They were demons,” Ruthanasia said while I was still fumbling for an explanation plausible enough to make Darcy stop asking but dangerous enough to convince her she’d be better off leaving guys like that alone.

  “Yeah,” Darcy said. “I thought so.”

  I gaped. And gaped. Did everybody around me believe in demons? I was tempted to ask about aliens and tinfoil hats to see if they believed in those too.

  “You did?” I asked.

  “Michael told me there were lots of them in the area these days.”

  “He said that?” I felt like an idiot, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “He’s been teaching me for the past few months,” she said. “I’m learning to be a hunter, Casey.”

  “You are? So am I!” I exclaimed. For a moment, I felt relieved because now I could share the burden, but the feel
ing didn’t last long. “But he didn’t tell me that! He’s been training me too. Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “There isn’t anything going on between me and Michael,” Darcy said defensively. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Ruthanasia snorted, but she sounded less caustic than I would have expected. “Yeah, he doesn’t have eyes for anybody but Casey.”

  For some reason, I found myself apologizing to the demon in disguise. “Sorry,” I said.

  She shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “Anyway,” Darcy continued, “he said you were having a really hard time dealing with things, so we agreed to keep my training a secret. I thought he should tell you, but … well, he seems to be struggling too. I think he’s more emotionally involved with you than he’s supposed to be, and it’s dorking with his logic. He doesn’t seem to deal with his feelings well.”

  “Oh,” I said. My stomach plummeted to my toes. Michael didn’t trust me. I wondered what else he wasn’t telling me.

  Suddenly pancakes didn’t sound so good. I’d be lucky if I didn’t throw up.

  “Well?” Ruthanasia asked, looking between the two of us. “Are we going or not? I’m all for having this conversation, but I’d rather do so in a well-lit public place. I’m feeling a little paranoid these days.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Darcy said.

  I nodded, because I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  “Good,” said Ruthanasia. “Because I need coffee. Lots of coffee.

  Darcy shuddered from the backseat. “Ugh. Coffee.”

  “I thought you said you’d drink it in your sleep.” I looked over my shoulder at her. “I never thought I’d hear you turn it down.”

  “Demon hunting changes things.”

  She stared out the window, her face pale and drawn. I would have hugged her if the seat hadn’t separated us.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said as Ruthanasia pulled out of the parking lot.

  Under the bright fluorescent lights of Denny’s, the whole situation felt distant and unreal. Like maybe I should step back for a second and reevaluate, because I was rushing into things without really stopping to think them through. I would have asked Michael, but after finding out that he’d hidden Darcy’s training from me, I was starting to wonder what else he wasn’t spilling.

  I pushed the thought of him aside and sipped my coffee even though I knew it was still too hot. The liquid scalded the roof of my mouth, making my skin all wrinkly and tender. I couldn’t help probing it with my tongue even though that only made it feel worse.

  “So,” Darcy said, not even waiting until the tight-faced waitress was out of earshot, “when are we raiding the demon factory?”

  “Hush!” I exclaimed, and it came out in such an unintentionally loud voice that I think it attracted more attention than Darcy had in the first place. Subtlety wasn’t my strong suit.

  “What factory?” Ruthanasia asked. “I’m lost here.”

  “Yeah,” I added. “Apparently, you know more than the rest of us put together, Darcy. Why don’t you fill us in?”

  It came out a lot more accusatory than I’d intended. I was still feeling a little hurt that Michael had chosen not to tell me about Darcy’s training. But it was the only way she could know all this. Normal people don’t just go, “Oh, wow! Demons! Let’s go kill them!”

  “Michael showed me the factory,” she said. “I really flipped out about it too. How’d you handle it when he told you? When he showed me those wings of his, I nearly died, I was so shocked.” She jumped a little, like she was trying to show us how shocked she was, and the whole table clattered. “Whoops. Sorry.”

  “So he showed you the factory?” I asked.

  “What factory?” Ruthanasia demanded in a voice that made Darcy jump for real this time. It also ticked off the waitress, who had picked that moment to deliver pancakes for Ruthanasia and me and a Moons Over My Hammy for Darcy. She shoved our plates in our general directions like she didn’t want to come into accidental contact with us and contract something. Then she stalked off.

  “Apparently she doesn’t like factories,” Darcy said, deadpan.

  I couldn’t keep from cracking up. It was good to have someone to back me up. Now I wasn’t alone, and that was a good thing. Between mouthfuls of crispy bacon, Darcy and I told Ruthanasia all about the factory and the soul jars.

  “I wonder if Lauren’s stuck in there,” she murmured, staring down at her untouched plate.

  “There’s no way of knowing,” I said. She looked devastated by that, and I knew it was probably all an act, but it felt so real. My mind went straight to Little Casey’s mom. If she’d really sold her soul to help her daughter, nothing could make that right. I was starting to empathize with Ruthanasia despite myself.

  “But there’s no way to know that she isn’t, is there?” she demanded.

  I shook my head.

  “Then that does it. We’ve got to do something about that factory.”

  “I’m totally down with that,” Darcy said.

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  “Have you fought them yet, Darcy?” I asked.

  “Just a couple demon dogs. Piece of cake.” She snapped her fingers and grinned proudly, like demon hunting was a terrific hobby and I should try it sometime. She seemed to have recovered from her bout of nerves in the car, while I was getting edgier by the minute.

  “I don’t think you realize how dangerous this is,” I said. “I’m not talking physical danger. They just …” It was the first time I’d spoken about what 693 had done to me in the park, and it made my hands shake so hard that I slopped hot coffee all over myself. Darcy wordlessly handed me a napkin. “They get inside your head. I absolutely believe they could make you kill yourself.”

  “Well, that’s exactly why we need to do something.” Ruthanasia must have seen the look on my face, because she added, “I mean, it might not be exactly the same guys who took my sister from me, but at least I’ve finally got some way to get back at the bastards. So you can either help me or get the hell out of my way.”

  “I’m going.” Darcy looked at me, her eyes bright.

  “Maybe we should wait for Michael,” I hedged.

  “Why?” Darcy took a big bite of her sandwich and swallowed it down. “He knew we’d go for the factory the minute his back was turned. Why do you think he left? He wants us to do this.”

  There was no way I could let her go alone with a demon. And maybe there would be some way to save Ruthanasia in the process. Maybe she could get her soul back.

  “All right,” I said reluctantly. “Let’s do it.”

  “Tonight,” Ruthanasia said.

  I nodded and shoved a big bite of pancake into my mouth. If we were going to be fighting demons, I needed to carb up.

  It was almost midnight by the time we arrived at the factory. We parked the car at the gas station where Michael had parked his bike, praying that it wouldn’t get stolen while we were battling the forces of darkness. My nerves jangled like wind chimes in a hurricane, partly from the neighborhood we were traipsing through and partly because of what we were about to attempt. This was going to be a real battle, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Not that any of us intended to fire a weapon. I was a hunter, not a gangbanger. We’d come armed with dojo weapons. Darcy had her staff. It didn’t look like much, just a solid length of ash, but it was super sturdy. It would make a good Relic.

  I hadn’t felt comfortable arming Ruthanasia, because who knew who she was going to be attacking? And she’d already taken my necklace. Although, now I was wondering how she’d managed to do that without getting blasted. Did Relics expire? I couldn’t remember Michael saying anything about that, but he’d obviously been selective about what he’d told me. It brought me back to the growing suspicion that he’d been flat-out wrong. Maybe she wasn’t a demon after all. It was a frustrating situation, because I didn’t know whether I should be watching my own back or watching hers.<
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  An empty plastic bag blew across the deserted intersection about a hundred feet away, but otherwise I didn’t see any movement at all. It should have made me feel more secure, but instead I felt nervous. Like a hundred unseen eyes were watching me but I was never quite fast enough to catch them in the act.

  The dingy brick of the factory looked almost black in the light of the flickering streetlamps. A metal gate covered the glass entryway, throwing faint crosshatched shadows onto the floor inside. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I could see the sticker from a security company on the door.

  “Aw, drat,” I said, trying not to sound as relieved as I felt. “Looks like there’s no way in. Guess we’ll have to do this another time.”

  “Don’t give up so easily,” Darcy said. “Let’s look around first.”

  Ruthanasia pressed her face up against the door, trying to get a better look at the lock. “I’d say screw it and break the glass, but there’s no way we’re getting through that gate unless you happen to have a blowtorch in your pocket.” She eyed me. “You don’t, do you?” I was pretty sure she was kidding.

  “It’s locked up tight, guys,” I said. “And we are not breaking and entering. Seriously, let’s come back sometime when we have a plan.” And when we weren’t towing around a maybe-demon who might decide to stab us in the back at any moment.

  “Let’s go around the building,” Darcy said, totally ignoring me. “Maybe the cleaning crew propped the back door open. It’s worth a look, right?”

  I wanted to argue but couldn’t come up with any reason why we shouldn’t at least try. So when she took off down the claustrophobically narrow alley alongside the building, I followed. The ground under my feet crunched, and the dim light made it impossible to see what we were stepping on. Something told me I didn’t want to know anyway.

  We emerged onto the loading dock, which was illuminated by a pair of floodlights with sickly yellow bulbs. But it was still all too easy to see the glint of the huge silver padlocks securing each of the bay doors. Darcy tried the employee entrance in the corner. I just wanted her to get it over with so we could go home and I could go to bed. I was clearly not meant to be a bobblehead avenger.