Drop Dead Demons

by Kirk, A

  “I take offense to the word colossal—”

  “—you are still shutting me out!”

  “—and to the word blunder.”

  He leaned in close enough for me to see a vein throbbing in his temple and dried blood smudged along his hairline. “Instead of being with you at the hospital, I had to hide and skulk around the emergency room like some delinquent, eavesdropping, scared to show my face because I didn’t know what you’d told your parents. Then I had to trail you again here and wait hours before I was close enough to make sure you were okay. ”

  “First of all, I thought you’d go to Father Bancroft while I was at the hospital. And second, if you’ve been following me it wasn’t even one hour.” I smirked. “We’ll have to work on your sense of ti—”

  He slammed his hand into the edge of a shelf. The metal dented.

  “This isn’t a joke! And I can’t go to Bancroft. He’ll ask too many questions.” He backed away, his hands coming up to squeeze the sides of his head like he was trying to keep his brain from exploding. “Our regular avenues of help are cut off. Everything’s off balance. I’m scared to death. Then you keep throwing yourself into danger while I blunder along, scrambling to protect you, but I can’t.” He slumped against shelving, rattling plastic and sloshing liquids, bringing a scent of bleach through the air as his voice became haggard. “Because you keep treating me like…I’m the threat.”

  His dark chocolate eyes closed, but not before I saw the pain they held.

  Ah. That was the big deal.

  My own irritation with his behavior started to dissipate. Because his anger wasn’t an element, it was a compound. See, I pay attention in science. An emotional compound of fear, helplessness, and hurt because I didn’t trust him. The pain from that wasn’t hard to imagine given that it wasn’t that long ago I was out of the loop because he didn’t trust me.

  He was silent but for long, slow breaths. I reached out and slipped my hand in his. He didn’t open his eyes, but his fingers entwined in mine.

  I leaned my shoulder against his and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

  After a long moment, he shook his head and said in a rough voice, “Never mind. What’s important is that you’re alright. Your dad fixed you up nicely.”

  I squeezed his hand. “He can fix you up too. Let’s call him.”

  “He’ll ask too many questions. And getting him involved could put him in danger. Neither of us wants that. I’ll be fine.”

  We sat in quiet silence, then he gathered me to him, arms wrapping tight, head resting on mine.

  “When you’re Mandatum,” he said, “the one thing you can always trust is your team, and you’re supposed to be on ours now.” He kissed my hair, then took my face in both his hands and pulled back so he could look into my eyes, his expression intense. “You’ve got to trust that we’ve got your back, trust me, and quit keeping secrets and going off on your own halfcocked. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  And I did. Intellectually. It was just putting the trust factor into emotional action where I was having trouble.

  “But you’re wrong about one thing.” I wagged a finger. “This time I was fully and completely cocked.” I finished with a confident nod.

  Ayden made a choking sound. Sputtered then laughed. Once he managed to gain control, his head tilted sideways and he gazed at me. Then he lifted one brow in a highly suggestive slant.

  “Fully and completely cocked, is it?” Ayden said. “My, my, my. Miss Lahey, the things you say.”

  Oh.

  A blush thundered my cheeks and rolled down my neck.

  “Uhhh, that didn’t come out right. I meant…” Really, Aurora? My hands slapped to my face and slowly slid down, hoping to wipe away the mortification. Wasn’t working. I gave him a pleading look. “You know what I meant.”

  “Oh, well,” he blustered with mock dismay, “I’m thinking all sorts of things about what you meant, and I am absolutely scandalized.”

  “Ayden!”

  “Fine.” He glanced heavenward, his head shaking slightly, an exasperated smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But when this latest crisis is over, you and I are— ”

  “— having a serious make-out session!” Blake burst through the door and filled what little was left of the tiny closet. He grinned with satisfaction. “I told them I’d find you. Can I join in?”

  “No.” Ayden elbowed us past the big guy and led me down the hall toward third period, his arm around my waist. “Get your own girlfriend.”

  “Why can’t we share? You’re such a prude.” Blake lumbered behind us. “Besides, you two aren’t for realsies anyway so she’s fair game. And I’m the best gamer in town.”

  Ayden snorted. “Even if you had game, which you don’t, she’s not fair anymore.”

  I gave him an odd look.

  He blustered, “Uh, I mean, of course you’re fair.”

  “Just fair?” Blake said. “Weak, dude.”

  I smiled.

  Ayden glared at the big guy. “I meant were dating, idiot.”

  “You sure about that?” Blake stroked his chin thoughtfully. “’Cause I know a gorgeous gal like babe wouldn’t want to date a guy who’s stupid enough to think she’s only fair. When did you ask her? Officially.”

  Ayden shrugged. “I didn’t ask…exactly. Blake, this is none of your business.”

  “Nope. Not official then,” Blake said. “She’s still fair game. Come to papa, chickadee.”

  When Blake made a move to put his arm around me, Ayden slapped a palm on Blake’s chest. “Back off. She’s not—”

  “Ow!” Blake yelped and jumped back.

  I smelled burning. Blake put a hand to his torso where his flannel shirt was blackened and burnt.

  Ayden turned pale. “Jeez, man. I’m sorry.”

  He started to brush at Blake’s shirt, but the big guy pushed him off, nonplussed. “Don’t worry about it, dude. I’m tougher than I look. Unlike you. Big baby.”

  He started to move off, but Ayden stopped him. We were almost to my classroom. The door was open and kids jostled us lightly as they headed down the hall and inside as the warning bell rang.

  “You’re right,” Ayden said.

  “Course I am.” Blake folded his arms. “About what?”

  Ayden glanced around, sparing a mildly irritated glance at Blake, then he faced me and spoke softly. “Apparently, I forgot to officially ask you this last night — or this morning, whatever — and I’m in a bit of a time constraint, so sorry for the lack of…finesse in my delivery, but, uh, don’t know how else to say this so…” he lowered his voice further, “will you be my girlfriend?”

  A snorty chortle of laughter escaped before I clamped my hand over my mouth. Blake made a couple of “tsk, tsk,” sounds.

  Ayden cringed. “Yeah, yeah, like I didn’t already know that sounded lame. But I’m under a little pressure here so…are we a go? No more pretend. You and me together. For—”

  “Realsies?” I said, then choked with amusement.

  He groaned. “You’re not helping. A simple yes or no is all I need.”

  I stifled a smile. “Does that mean we’re going steady too?”

  “Ha ha. I’ll take these laughs at my expense as a yes.” He turned to Blake. “See? Official.”

  “Still kinda iffy because you totally butchered that proposal,” Blake said with a disapproving shake of his head. “But I’ll have to coach you later. Right now Matthias wants us all at your house to go over files and books and do the basic treasure hunting stuff. He’s been calling you all morning. Tristan’s in the office taking care of getting us out.”

  “I can’t leave early,” I said. “I practically just got here.”

  “Sorry, babe, don’t think you were invited.”

  I huffed, “What do you mean I’m not invited?”

  “Tell Matthias, I’ll be there after school,” Ayden said firmly. “With Aurora. I’m not leaving her alone.”


  I gave Ayden an encouraging nudge. “Go. You’re exhausted. Clean up and rest at home then get me after school. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Blake offered. “Watch over her like she was my own girlfriend, which based on your sloppy seduction skills, I still claim she is. She’ll be safe with big, bad me.” Blake laid an arm across Ayden’s shoulders. Ayden winced at the contact. “Much better than wimpy Fireboy here.”

  “Fine,” Ayden said. “But I’ll be back. Soon.”

  “Hopefully, with your meager awesomeness restored.” Blake poked a finger through the holes Ayden had burnt in his shirt. “Dude, you owe me a new shirt. Make it silk. Ladies love touching silk. Almost as much as they love touching me. Show him, Aurora.”

  Ayden spun me away from Blake to slip a warm hand on my neck and kiss my cheek. “Take care of her,” he told Blake and headed down the hall. His steps were wobbly enough that he bumped into three people before he made it to the corner.

  I stared at his back, worried. “Blake…”

  “I’ll get Logan to drive him home, babe.” The big guy ruffled my hair. “Be right back.”

  I smiled and meandered into the classroom.

  Someone yelled, “Hi-ya!” and sliced a sword directly at my throat.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I swung my backpack and knocked the weapon from my attacker’s hands. It clattered to the floor, and I saw it was actually the teacher’s wooden pointing stick. Hey, when it was swinging in a blur in my peripherals, it looked like a sword.

  The class erupted in exclamations with my teacher shrieking the loudest.

  “Mrs. Lahey, I didn’t allow you to wait for your niece so you could engage in violence, not to mention the flagrantly inappropriate use of classroom teaching materials!”

  Aunt M eyed her with distaste. “And that nitwit attitude is why you’ll be first to die.”

  The class said things like, “Oooooo,” and “Burn.”

  My teacher’s jaw dropped. Along with, most likely, my grade. Which was something I did not need.

  “Proper tactics and training are essential.” Unperturbed, Aunt M nudged a toe under the pointing stick lying on the floor and flicked it skillfully up into her hand so she could twirl it as she continued to address the students, pacing in front of them like a drill sergeant. “The best opportunity to keep someone on their toes and battle-ready is a surprise assault when they are at the lowest point of exhaustion because that—” She spun to face her rapt audience and point the stick at them. They all jerked back in their seats. “—is when the enemy attacks. You’ll all do best to remember that if you want to survive.”

  The students started clapping and hooting.

  I smiled weakly at my stunned teacher. “It’s been a…difficult pregnancy.”

  Aunt M snorted. “Don’t make excuses to the dead dame walking. I’m providing a useful education.”

  The class went, “Oooooo,” again.

  Oh, jeez.

  “She’s just leaving.” I grabbed Aunt M’s arm and dragged her toward the door saying, “Before you decimate my GPA further.”

  “Don’t blame that debacle on me,” M said.

  She tossed the pointer to the teacher who squeaked in surprise then fumbled and dropped it with a clatter. The class laughed. The teacher didn’t.

  Aunt M looked at her and muttered, “Useless,” then turned to me. “Let’s have tea.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  M looked impatient. “I’m here with Father Bancroft helping him deliver to the drama department some of that medieval paraphernalia he likes to collect. He’s loaning it as props for their next production.”

  Right. Some Shakespeare play. Bancroft being a collector of medieval artifacts wasn’t surprising. After the Kalifera attack at the church, the boys had taken me to his personal quarters to recover, and considering the heavy, carved furniture and ancient battles depicted in paintings and tapestries, it made sense.

  My aunt smiled too brightly. “Join us for tea in the auditorium.”

  And let the two of them hammer me about the horrors of hanging with the Hex Boys? Not to mention, I’d get to be under the scrutiny of a Mandatum bigwig? No thanks.

  So I said, “No thanks,” kissed her cheek, and scuttled back into class. M tried to follow me, but my teacher shut the door in her face, then shook the pointing stick at her as my stunned aunt peered through the small window.

  I grabbed my backpack and was returning the various contents which had spilled out when I noticed something missing. Oh, no. I dug frantically but—

  “Looking for this?” came a voice from the rear of the room. It was Luke Something or Other who sat to my right. He held up the book with the weird spiral on the front and odd language written within the pages.

  As a starting linebacker for the varsity team, he resembled a refrigerator and had a talent for smashing things. He was pleasant enough and paid me little attention except to copy the occasional test answers off me. At this point in my academic career, not his smartest move.

  I was almost to my seat when Mika from gym class, the shy school newspaper slash gossip guru who sat behind him, grabbed my wrist.

  “Hey,” she said with quiet urgency, “tell Matthias I’m helping take care of his…problem.”

  I almost laughed and asked, “Which one?” but she seemed serious. So, having no idea what she was talking about, I nodded solemnly and replied, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

  Yeah, right.

  As I sat down, Luke the Linebacker smiled and handed me the double-spiral book. It looked small in his hand.

  “Thanks,” I said with genuine relief.

  He nodded and the teacher began her lecture, writing on the board as she spoke. I left the leather-bound book on my desk and started copying the teacher’s notes.

  “It’s a fascinating elixir of ancient languages,” Luke the Linebacker said quietly.

  There was an odd lilt to his voice, but I didn’t pay much attention until he reached over and tapped his pencil on the leather spiral-covered book. Then he touched the pencil to his cheek as if pondering some great mystery.

  “I recognize Latin, of course, but this manufactured language brews within the complex elements of Etruscan, Lepontic, Camunic, as well as Ancient and Demotic Greek.”

  “Demonic Greek?” That sounded scary. How would this guy know?

  “I said, Demotic, little dove. Nothing to do with demons.”

  The breath froze in my chest, sending icicles to stab my gut. I turned toward him slowly. And stared. When he finally faced me, I could see the whole of his eyes shimmering pink. The same color when a certain someone poofed in and out of existence.

  “Rose,” I breathed.

  He smiled, showing lots of teeth.

  “Hello, dove,” he said in that odd voice. Like it was coming from a radio.

  “How are you doing this? What are you doing?” My gaze flicked around the room at the unsuspecting crowd before settling nervously on Luke the Linebacker. Who wasn’t Luke the Linebacker at all. At least, not in this moment. “Are you here? Somewhere? Don’t hurt him. Or anyone.”

  “I’m not in your proximity,” he said mildly. “But since this body is, I can commandeer his mind as a temporary vessel. I will leave all unharmed. Now, as for the manuscript you have acquired, the language inside was fashioned by an individual possessing an inordinate capacity for words. I imagine it to be Flint’s favorite Scriptor. Such a unique gift that one possessed.”

  “A what?”

  Not-Luke the Linebacker said with annoyance, “Have you not read the files?”

  “Been a little busy,” I shot back, feeling on edge because this wasn’t creepy at all. It was freaking terrifying. “You know, trying to do some psycho’s bidding so he won’t kill me.”

  “Miss Lahey, do you have something to say?” the teacher asked.

  I jumped, knocking my notebook off the desk. “No, ma’am.”

  By the time I picked up th
e book, Mika was running her index finger slowly down Not-Linebacker’s spine. He turned to her. Her breath caught, her eyes glazed over, and a small moan escaped her lips. She leaned forward. He flicked his fingers and turned away. Mika flopped back, looking dazed.

  “What the heck?!” I hissed. “I said don’t hurt anyone.”

  He chuckled darkly, “Trust me, she felt no pain. Perhaps I could show you?”

  “No thanks, Romeo. Just show me what you know about this gibberish.” And get out of this poor kid’s head. And my classroom. And my life. Ugh!

  “Pity,” he shrugged. “However, this gibberish is anything but. I believe it to be a code used as a secret communique amid a unique few who understand its encryption. You can’t translate it?”

  “Other than Divinicus Nex and Bellator, no. Can you?”

  “Alas, not. But I think you are supposed to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Flint targeted you years ago.”

  “Again, why? How could he know me? I wasn’t even born for another hundred…” My voice trailed off as chills goosebumped over my body. I spoke slowly. “He was targeting the next Divinicus.” I shook my head trying to break free some answers. “But still, why?”

  “Read the file,” he said then turned to Mika who had started touching him again.

  The door burst open and Blake strode in holding a bundle of individually wrapped flowers and wearing a red cape that didn’t make it much past his shoulders.

  “Hey, dudes and dudettes, greetings and deliveries from the King of Courtship, the Principal of Passion. Principal, get it? ’Cause we’re in a school. Okay, let’s see who my first love victim is.” He shuffled through a stack of pink notecards.

  Rose, in Linebacker’s body, had been doing the hand flutter thing at Mika when Blake waltzed in. The interruption had made Rose turn toward the front, and in that instant, Mika made her move.

  She launched out of her seat with a throaty cry. Her entire all-in-one desk/chair was flung sideways, colliding into another student with a crash and yelp as she threw herself onto Not-Luke the Linebacker, crashing him and his desk to the ground. She wrapped her arms around him then latched her lips onto his like a bloodsucking leech.