Demonosity

by Amanda Ashby

  “I don’t have details. It just looked like a book. A big old leather book. Oh, and there were loads of diagrams in it. None of which made sense.”

  “That settles it,” Nash said in a firm voice. “I’m coming over to your house this afternoon to see this mysterious book. Oh, crap. We’ve got to go.”

  “What?” Cassidy found herself being tugged in the opposite direction from their class. She ground in her heels and folded her arms, but before she could say anything else, she caught sight of Celeste Gilbert and three of her friends all marching directly toward them. Cassidy turned to him in surprise. “Um, since when do you know Celeste and her crew?”

  “Since never,” Nash retorted in a low voice, his head cocked as if trying to calculate the statistical probability of being able to run away before they reached them.

  “So why are they heading in our direction?” Cassidy asked with interest.

  Nash let out a sigh. “For some reason she’s got it into her head that I would make the perfect Mercutio. She seems to think that my natural good looks will help bring in a bigger audience, and she keeps nagging me to come to auditions next week.”

  For a moment Cassidy just stared at him, and then she burst out laughing. “That might just be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, trying and failing to imagine Nash taking part in a group activity. It was just too ridiculous for words, since “playing well with others” wasn’t exactly one of Nash’s strengths.

  “I’m pleased that you find it so amusing,” Nash retorted. “But right now that’s not really helping me.”

  “Sorry,” Cassidy mumbled as Celeste finally reached them and stood so that her pert cleavage was aimed directly at Nash. Cassidy had to fight to stop herself from laughing. The truth was that, while just about every other sophomore guy would die to have Celeste Gilbert give them the time of day, she had managed to pick the one guy who was immune to that sort of thing. Cassidy was sure that there was a life lesson in there somewhere.

  “Nash, anyone would think you were trying to hide from me.” Celeste pushed past Cassidy as if she wasn’t even there so that she could lay a hand on Nash’s arm. Nash flinched.

  “Nash, is that true? Have you been hiding from Celeste?” Cassidy grinned, earning her a nudge in the ribs from her friend. However, Celeste still didn’t even acknowledge Cassidy’s presence. Instead, she took out a flyer (from where Cassidy didn’t know) and pressed it into Nash’s hand.

  “Of course I haven’t, Cassidy.” He gave her a dark look. “I’ve just been busy. Very, very busy.”

  “Well, you’re going to need to make some time because the auditions are on Monday after school, and I won’t take no for answer. You would be so perfect for the role,” Celeste said with the authority of one who was used to getting her own way. Then she gave him one last searing look with her wide blue eyes and nodded to her friends that it was time to go.

  Cassidy watched them all leave before she turned to him and grinned. “Oh, Nash, you just have to do it. You do, you do,” she mimicked, earning herself a withering glare just as the final bell rang.

  “Do I look like I’m laughing? If you tell anyone about this, I will make you catch the bus for a week,” he informed her.

  “Okay, I’ve had my moment.” Cassidy held up her hands in surrender before wrinkling her nose. “How does she even know you?”

  “I’ve got no idea.” He shuddered. “Ever since last week she’s been trying to corner me. She’s very persistent.”

  “Probably because she’s not used to guys ignoring her. I bet she sees you as a challenge.”

  “Yes, well, not as challenging as I find her.” He shuddered again. “And now we’d better get a move on before we get a tardy slip.”

  At the end of the day Cassidy sat cross-legged on a patch of grass by the parking lot, staring at the blank screen of her cell phone. She knew she would see her dad soon when Nash took her to the hospital, but she also knew that if her mom didn’t text to tell her how it had gone, then she was probably going to go insane. Seriously, how hard was it for the woman to pick up her cell phone?

  Cassidy moodily grabbed another Cheez Doodle and popped it into her mouth while wishing that she’d bought Pringles instead. As she chewed, she looked around for Nash. She’d had an art class for last period while he’d had advanced geekoid-something-or-other class, and now she was waiting for him; he had his mom’s car, which meant she didn’t have to catch the bus.

  She pushed her sleeve back and looked at the black rose tattoo. It was still tingling, and at least three people had thought it was a real tattoo. Not that she cared. She was just about to run her fingers over it when a faint gust of wind raced around her. Cassidy looked up just in time to see a single brown feather floating lazily in the air. As she watched, it softly came to rest in her lap.

  Without thinking, she picked it up and unconsciously brushed it across the back of her hand. The down was soft as velvet and the color of the darkest chocolate, shot through with swirls of pale gray. It was mesmerizing, and she found herself getting lost in the rich tapestry of colors and—

  “Man, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice suddenly said, and before Cassidy knew what was happening, Reuben had flopped down on the grass next to her, his skinny, denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him. Cassidy blinked for a moment as she realized that she’d been so lost in her own private world she hadn’t even noticed him approach. As she dropped the feather back into her lap she thought she heard the rustle of wings, but when she looked up into the nearby tree, there was nothing there. Then she realized that Reuben was staring at her expectantly, a familiar expression on his face. Her stomach lurched, and suddenly all thoughts of the feather were forgotten.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, while privately cautioning herself to ignore the way his cheap aftershave still managed to make her go all Pavlov’s dog whenever she smelled it. Thankfully, Reuben seemed indifferent to her confusion as he gave her his trademark smile, exposing what Nash liked to call his genetically unfortunate teeth.

  “That’s what I like about you, Cass, you’re so modest that you don’t know your own charm. I just thought it would be nice to hang out again. It’s been too long. And . . . oh, hey, Cheez Doodles.” He leaned over and popped one into his mouth before giving her a friendly nudge on the shoulder.

  “Er, Reuben, you do remember that we don’t date anymore, which I’m fairly sure means that you’re not allowed to help yourself to my Cheez Doodles.”

  “Don’t be like that, Cass.” He tried to reach over for another one, but Cassidy smacked away his hand. “After all, we were so great together. In fact, I’m not sure why we even broke up.”

  “I do believe that it was because you found your tongue stuck down Natasha Bennett’s throat and then a week later it was down Tracey Marsh’s throat. And after that, I think it was either Katie or Katrina’s throat—I always get the Hobson twins mixed up. Now, why don’t you go sit with all of your preppy friends, since they seem to be enjoying Kiss an Emo Boy Month as much as you are.”

  “I can’t,” he suddenly said in a sulky voice. “They’re all, ‘Travis said this. . . . Travis said that. . . . Travis has a cute butt. . . . Travis has the best tan.’”

  “What?” Cassidy blinked at him. Reuben was many things, but random wasn’t normally one of them. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you on drugs?”

  “I think he’s talking about the new guy, Travis Lenoir,” Nash said as he wandered toward them with the same effortless, casual ease with which he approached everything.

  “Yeah, well, if you ask me, he sounds like a dick.” Reuben pouted.

  “Lucky no one asked you then.” Nash gave Reuben a dismissive glare, not bothering to hide his disdain—though sometimes Cassidy wasn’t sure if it was because of how Reuben had treated her, or because Reuben had once had the audacity to tell Nash that Leonardo da Vinci was a hack.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know why you’re so s
mug, Nash Peterson, since no one is looking at you anymore, either,” Reuben retorted.

  Nash shrugged. “Difference is that I don’t give a damn. Now piss off, Reuben, and go find another rock to climb under, or—”

  But before he could finish, Cassidy’s cell phone signaled that a text message had come through. Her hands were shaking as she opened it, and then she turned to Nash and grinned, oblivious to the fact that Reuben was still there. She held up the screen so he could see the message:

  The surgery all went well. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.

  FIVE

  “Cass, stop smiling. There is nothing pretty about my having to wear a pink hospital gown,” her dad grumbled an hour later, but Cassidy couldn’t help it. She had been scared of walking into the room in case he looked different, but he looked exactly the same—well, except for the gown—which really was bright pink. Plus, according to the doctor, the partial knee replacement had been a total success.

  “So can you really come home tomorrow?” She perched on the side of the bed, careful not to bump his heavily bandaged knee.

  “Yup.” He nodded to the crutches that were leaning against a nearby chair. “I’ve got a physical therapy session here at the hospital in the morning, but then they’ll do home visits for the rest, and if it all goes well, I should be back on my feet in a few weeks. Looks like your tattoo really worked.”

  Her mom, who was over in the corner filling out hospital forms, muttered something, but Cassidy ignored her as her fingers automatically went to her own tattoo, which was still tingling. She was just about to ask if his tattoo felt tingly, too, but before she could a nurse bustled into the room with an array of tablets for him to take.

  After that they hung out with him until visiting hours were over. Thankfully, her mom had yet another crisis at the office, so Cassidy was able to spend the rest of the night IMing with Nash and giving him a play-by-play of just how great her dad was feeling.

  She was still smiling about it the next morning as her Health teacher droned on about the importance of a well-balanced diet. Next to her, Nash—in his own unique way—appeared to be listening intently while in reality he was discreetly reading the large leather-bound book that she’d found in her bag after their trip to the mall. She probably would have forgotten to bring it for him if he hadn’t made her get up during their IM conversation and put it directly into her purse before she forgot.

  He had hardly said a word to her since she had given it to him earlier. However, unlike Nash, the rest of the class was fidgeting and yawning as Mrs. Miller moved the discussion on to exercise. Cassidy idly played with the long feather that she’d found, running the length of it down her cheek before turning her attention to the invitation Nash had thrust at her earlier.

  It was for Cade Taylor’s Halloween party.

  As always, it was addressed to him not her, and the number of times she’d just tagged along as his “plus one” didn’t bear thinking about. Not that that would be happening for this party, since she had no intention of going. She folded up the invitation and leaned over Nash’s shoulder to see if he’d found anything exciting in the book, when a murmur echoed around the room. Cassidy looked up to see a tall guy walk over to Mrs. Miller and hand her a note, at the same time giving her a jawbreaking smile.

  Cassidy widened her eyes. Since the whole Reuben disaster, she hadn’t been paying much attention to guys—which was actually quite easy, since, with the way she dressed and her refusal to wear more than a smear of lip gloss, not too many of them were beating a path to her door. But there was no denying that the guy standing at the front of the class was completely gorgeous, with a beauty that might rival even Nash’s own.

  However, while Nash was all alabaster skin, gothic punk clothing, and brooding good looks, this guy was like bottled sunshine, with warm dark eyes, a tangle of wild curls, and was that a hint of a dimple? Also, unlike Nash’s tall, thin frame, there was nothing skinny about this guy. Judging by his wide shoulders, slim hips, and defined chest, he would probably be signed up for one of the many sports teams by the end of the day. Finally, Mrs. Miller, who seemed to be just as mesmerized as everyone else in the class, coughed.

  “Class, this is Travis, and he’ll be joining our class beginning today.”

  So that was Travis. Suddenly, Cassidy understood just why Reuben had been so pissed off yesterday, since there was no way his dyed hair and faux-emo talk could ever compete with Travis. Mrs. Miller pointed to an empty seat a row away from where Cassidy was sitting, and Cassidy watched, fascinated, as he slowly made his way over, looking slightly uncomfortable with all the attention he was commanding.

  Boy, did Cassidy know that feeling. Well, not because she was a new guy with movie-star good looks that everyone wanted to drink in, but rather because, just after her grandfather had died a little over five years ago, there had been talk that his electronics company had been borrowing money from the workers’ pension funds.

  Of course it had all been a big lie, but no one seemed to care about that, and for a week or so Cassidy’s family had been the news du jour. Thankfully, not long after that the costume for the school mascot—an oversize badger—had gone missing, and the whole thing about Cassidy’s grandfather had faded away. But she had never forgotten how much it sucked to be the center of unwanted attention.

  As Travis walked past he looked at her, his mesmerizing dark eyes full of confusion. Cassidy shot him a sympathetic smile while resisting the urge to reach out and squeeze his long, tapered fingers, which were so close to her they were almost brushing the desk.

  Travis paused to study her face, a curious expression tugging at his lips as his dark eyes drilled into hers, as if trying to convey something important to her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it made her skin tingle, and by the time he had moved past her, her whole face was flaming so much that she was fairly sure there was steam coming out of her ears.

  She turned her head and watched him casually slip into the seat he had been allocated, stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of him. He looked at her again, and Cassidy felt her cheeks burn so brightly that she spent the rest of the period with her eyes fixed firmly on Mrs. Miller, who was reminding them about an upcoming quiz.

  When the bell finally rang, Cassidy gathered up her things just as Nash, who hadn’t even seemed to blink since Travis had joined the class, suddenly leaned over. “Okay, so what the hell was that about?”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” Cassidy feigned surprise as she busied herself with putting her pen into her purse.

  “Oh, you know, all the smoldering eye contact that was going on between you and our new guy, Mr. Lenoir,” Nash said, as Travis made his way to the door before turning and once more staring at Cassidy. This time there was no denying the yearning expression on his face. Then he turned and disappeared into the hallway, and Nash coughed. “Exhibit A.”

  Cassidy’s face once again started to burn with a combi-nation of excitement and confusion. “So you saw it, too?”

  “You’d have to be blind not to,” Nash informed her as he carefully put the leather book into his satchel and stood up. “So what’s the deal? Have you already met him or something?”

  Cassidy shook her head so quickly that her thick hair swung into her face. “No, I’d never even heard of him until Reuben talked about him yesterday. So what do we know about him?”

  “Well, I know that he seems to like girls with reddish-brown hair who wear their grandmother’s clothing and refuse to polish their Docs.”

  “It’s not my grandmother’s,” Cassidy retorted as she glanced down at her seventies-style dress, which she’d pulled in at the waist with one of her dad’s old leather belts, while totally ignoring the boot-polishing comment. “And that’s not what I meant. Do you know what he’s doing here and how long he’s going to be around?”

  “Why, so you can ask him to prom?” Nash asked, and Cassidy lightly punched him in the arm as they walked toward the quad to eat th
eir lunch in peace and quiet.

  “Yes, Nash. I want to ask him to prom, and then we can get married and have lots of children. That’s what happens when teenagers stare at each other for five seconds.”

  “Well, not wanting to pick apart a long-held tradition of angst and pain, but my way would actually be a lot more sensible. Think of all the time and effort it would save.” Nash slung his arm over her shoulder in a companionable manner as they walked.

  “What, so then everyone would have more time to spend reading books on ancient astronomy and science?”

  “Exactly. All this love business just gets in the way of things, although, from a theoretical perspective, it does make for interesting study. Perhaps if you and Travis go on a date, I could tag along and observe.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” Cassidy assured him as they reached their favorite table outside and slung their bags onto it before sitting down. Nash pulled out an expensive lunch box that was no doubt filled with his favorite tapas, while Cassidy got out a far less exciting sandwich. “Not that anything’s going to happen. I mean, did you see how gorgeous he was? He’s hardly going to be interested in me, and even if he was, I’ve got far too much going on even to consider it.”

  “Hey, I might not feel the normal urges, nor understand how they work, but even I know a hot, hormonally charged look when I see one,” Nash corrected her. “Now, if we’ve finished talking about this, do you want to hear what I’ve discovered about your mysterious book?”

  “You can understand it?” Cassidy immediately put down the mutilated ham with mustard sandwich that her mother had forced upon her that morning and flushed as she realized that she’d been so distracted by the unexpected attentions of Travis the New Guy that she’d completely forgotten about the mysterious book.

  “Not exactly.” He shook his head as he carefully lifted the book out of his satchel and opened it up. “The closest I can guess is that it’s written in some kind of Middle French.”