by Duncan, Lex
Ms. Hayworth pivoted around in her seat to blow the juice out of her nose and into a Kleenex. “But you're eating it anyway.”
You couldn't be picky if you were poor because you never knew when your next meal was going to be. Not that I had to worry much about that now, but old habits died hard. And the chances were high that I'd end up homeless again after St. Agatha's got tired of dealing with me. So, yeah. I was going to eat my cat food steak and I was going to like it.
“Are you doing anything fun tonight?” Ms. Hayworth asked between bites of peaches.
I never did anything fun. The last time I tried, Max got possessed and a crazy guy tried sacrificing dozens of people on a roof. “No? Should I be?”
She blinked. “It's Halloween.”
“That's today?”
“I was thinking about wearing a costume, but it's against the dress code, so―”
“Halloween is today? Are you sure?”
“Unless my calendar is lying, yes. I'm sure.”
I shoved another bit of steak in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. I'd completely forgotten about Halloween. Halloween. My favorite holiday. What was wrong with me? Was I getting sick?
“I'm volunteering at the church's trunk-or-treat,” she continued. “You can come if you'd like.”
Instead of laughing, I tried not to do the rude thing for once and chased my steak with a forkful of gray beans. It wasn't Ms. Hayworth's fault that the idea of volunteering at the church made me want to gag. That place needed to be burned down as far as I was concerned. “Uh, no, thanks. I think I'm just gonna...Watch a movie or something. Steal candy from unsuspecting kids.”
She gave me a look that sat somewhere between ashamed and horrified.
I waited to see if she'd catch onto the joke. She didn't. “I'm kidding.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Of course you are.”
“Jeez, Ms. Hayworth, what kind of person do you take me for?” I furrowed my brow a bit and pretended to be offended. “I'm not that mean.”
She paled. “No, no, I didn't―”
I sighed. “Ms. Hayworth?”
“Yes?”
“I'm kidding again.”
“...Right.”
The bell rang twenty quiet minutes later. I dumped the contents of my tray into the garbage, said goodbye to Ms. Hayworth in a manner that couldn't be misconstrued as rude or horrifying in any way, then hauled myself up the stairs to algebra class. I wasted the entire period doodling.
As soon as the final bell rang, I grabbed my stuff from my locker and rode the bus back to St. Agatha's. When I stepped off, I saw the faint outline of a black car parked up front. A fancy black car I'd grown quite familiar with over the past month and a half. My stomach squeezed.
A ways up the drive, I convinced myself that it wasn't Dante's car. It couldn't be Dante's car. He made his feelings perfectly clear when he kicked me out of his house. No way he’d come here to visit me. No way he'd compromise his pride so quickly.
Nope, no way. No way because, the closer I got, the more I realized this car wasn't his car. It was Aralia's. I'd have recognized that bedazzled steering wheel cover anywhere.
“Aralia?” I burst into my room to find her sitting on the bottom bunk while Sadie practically cowered in the corner.
She squeaked, hand flying to her chest. “Beatrice! Who―who is this? Do you know her? She―she just came in and she said she was looking for you and I tried to get her to leave but―”
Aralia leaned back on Sadie’s bed, rings sparkling on her fingers. “Calm down, darling. I'm not as scary as I look. For the most part.”
“It's okay, Sadie,” I said. I grinned from ear to ear. “She's a friend.”
Sadie had nothing to say to that. She busied herself with her book of poetry instead. Sylvia Plath. I’m sure the nuns loved that.
“Right, now that the messy introductions are over,” Aralia patted the spot next to her. “Why don't you sit down here and tell me how you're doing?” I would have happily done so if she'd let me talk. But she didn't. Before I could get a word in edgewise, she sighed a heavy sigh and grabbed my hand, yanking me down on the bed. “I know you've only been gone a couple of weeks, but honestly, Beatrice, it's been a nightmare.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean is that Dante's gone mad. Absolutely mad.”
“―You wanna expand on that or―”
“―First, he kicks you out for no reason and then he's kicked Max out, too! Booted the little troll out of the basement last week. Can you believe that?”
“Wait,” I said. “He kicked Max out, too? Seriously?”
“No, Beatrice, I'm telling you all this for sport.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, seriously. Now it's just me and the dog. It's tragic.”
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit pleased. Dante kicking Max out was proof he wasn't trying to “protect” me like I thought. Or if he was, he was trying to protect Max, too. But...
From what?
“Wow,” I said, “that's―”
“It's horrible!” Aralia exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Positively horrible. I hate it. He disappears for hours at a time, he looks awful, he never returns any of my calls. You need to slap some sense into him. I've tried, but he won't listen.”
“What makes you think he'll listen to me?” He never did before and he didn't have a reason to start now.
She stared at me for a beat, then said, “oh, Beatrice,” in that way of hers. That vaguely sympathetic way that bordered on condescending.
“Why do you always do that?” I asked.
“Do what?”
“I say something and you're like 'Oh, Beatrice.' What? What did I say that was so wrong?”
“Oh, Beatrice,” she groaned. “You're so dramatic!”
“Aralia!”
She grabbed my shoulders and gave them a shake. “Get it through your head, girl, the man adores you.”
The witty retort I'd prepared died on the tip of my tongue. The man. Dante was the only one of those we'd been discussing. And Aralia claimed he adored me. Part of me wanted to laugh. The other part wanted to scream. I opted for a question instead. For Sadie's sake. She didn't like sudden noises. “Are you high?”
“No, but you are if you think otherwise.” Her hands returned to her lap and she let out another sigh. “But that isn't why I came.”
“Why did you, then?” I appreciated the subject change. I didn't want to think about Dante...adoring me. Especially when my feelings toward him at the moment were less than affectionate.
Her dour expression lifted, quick as flipping a switch. “It's Halloween, darling. We have to celebrate.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“You and I are going to go back to the house and,” she held up her index finger, “wait for it...”
I waited for it.
“Carve pumpkins, of course! Maybe watch a film or two. I figured you'd like that better than going out, considering what happened last time.” She cut me a barbed look. “Leave it to you and Max to shut down the only decent night club in town.”
Pumpkin carving and a movie? I could live with that. Literally. Unless the pumpkins got possessed and tried to kill me. Which, honestly, wouldn't be much of a surprise at this point. But there were a few things I had to verify first before I agreed. “Dante's not going to be there, is he?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “He told me earlier that he had something to do tonight. Wouldn't give any specifics, of course, but I suppose that's to be expected.”
Good. That was good. “Are we letting Max in on this little party of ours?”
“God, no,” she made a face like she'd been sucking on a particularly sour lemon. “It'll just be you and me, darling. And your friend over there, if she'd like to come.”
“Well?” I looked to Sadie, smiling at the thought of her wandering Dante's giant, decrepit house.
She didn't appear to have h
eard me. Those poems hogged all her attention.
“Sadie?” I tried again.
She jumped, head jerking up. “Y-yes?”
“Do you want to come with us?” I asked gently. “Have some fun?”
She blinked. “We're not allowed out after eight.”
Aralia looked scandalized. “Eight? My God, they've already cloistered you. How sad.”
“You don't have to if you don't want to,” I said, glaring at Aralia. Since I met her, I felt the need to protect my nervous roommate. We'd bonded over my demonic pop quiz last night and she really seemed like a nice person. A nice person who'd known too much pain in her short life.
She reminded me a lot of Rosie. Minus the possessed part.
Sadie managed a weak smile, holding up her book. “It’s, um, it’s okay. I have some reading I’d like to do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure. Thank you, though.”
“Are we done here?” Aralia stood, wiping the imaginary dust off her skirt. It didn't matter what the weather was like, she always wore really fancy clothes and shoes I'd break my ankles in. I both envied and admired her ability to walk in them.
“I think so,” I said, “if Sadie's positive she doesn't want to go.”
She nodded vigorously.
I stood, raking a hand through my ratty hair. “Then I guess we're done here. Oh, and Sadie?”
“Yes?”
“Could you, uh, cover for me? Please? Tell them I'm sick or something?” I knew I was asking a lot of her. We weren't exactly best friends, but she struck me as the honest type. The type who couldn't lie her way out of a paper bag. I hoped for both of our sake's that she upped her game tonight.
“I can try,” she said, looking and sounding none too sure of herself.
“You can do it, darling,” Aralia said, giving me a push toward the exit. “We believe in you.”
She brightened a bit. “You do?”
“Yes, yes, go Sadie, you're a star,” Aralia opened the door and shoved me through it. “We'll be leaving now. Thank you, dear.”
“Bye, Sadie!” I called on my way out. “And thanks!”
Aralia's heels clicked staccato on the hardwood as we walked down the hall. “Thank God we're getting out of here. This place is giving me a rash.”
Twenty-Three
Returning to Dante's house was an odd experience. Sure, it'd only been a couple of weeks, but the nature of my departure made it feel like an eternity.
It was nice to be back, though.
I missed it. I missed the noises. I missed the way it creaked in the wind, the way the crickets chirped, the way I could hear the fireplace crackle from my bedroom. St. Agatha's was too quiet. My apartment was too noisy. This house was just right. I missed it.
And Mo missed me.
“Hi, Mo!” I opened my arms to receive the one hundred ten pound dog that came barreling toward me from inside the house. He tackled me to the ground with a loud yip, smothering my face with slobbery dog kisses. I gave his head a vigorous scratch. “Yes, hi, buddy, I missed you too!”
“You're disgusting,” Aralia said. I saw the lower half of her body walk past me while the upper half was blocked by Mo's sizable head. “He shouldn't have been able to get out here. I shut the door when I left.”
Giving him a scratch behind the ears, I pushed him away and got up. “He probably heard me coming and busted it open. I'm a big deal, you know.”
She snorted. “Oh, of course you are.” She approached the deck, then froze. Her hand reached out to brush the door frame and her lips moved with words spoken in a whisper so soft it almost got lost in the breeze. “What in God's name happened here?”
Mo and I went to join her, a sudden sick feeling flaring in my stomach. Hearing Aralia sound anything less than confident scared me. The last time she sounded so shaken was when she thought Dante was going to die performing Max's exorcism.
“What's going on?” I asked, peeking around her.
The foyer was trashed. The couch was overturned, a mess of garbage strewn across the floor. The rest of the house fared no better. The kitchen? Trashed. The bathrooms? Trashed. The TV room? Sacked. The only rooms that weren’t completely a wreck were our bedrooms and Dante’s study. Or so we assumed since it was locked.
“This is ridiculous,” I said as we went back downstairs to begin our cleanup. “I thought you said you warded this place.”
“I did,” Aralia snapped. “Anything even remotely malevolent shouldn't have been able to get past the fountain.”
“Maybe the wards were broken?” I didn't know crap about wards or magic. It just sounded like a better explanation than the alternatives.
“I strengthen them monthly, there's no way―” she broke off, hiking her skirt up to reveal a series of knives strapped against her thigh. Choosing one for herself and shoving one at me, she narrowed her eyes at something in front of us. Something I couldn't see with my weak human senses. “Stay still, Beatrice.”
I stayed still. Gripped my knife. Readied myself for a fight. Morgenstern stood beside me, his ears pinned to his skull. He saw it, too.
Aralia took a step. Then another. And another. A growl built in Mo's throat. The house was dim and dusty, the dying light of the evening scarcely penetrating the darkness. I held my breath. Waited. Waited for something, anything to happen.
And then it did.
With a horrible caw, a crow came zipping out of the shadows in a violent streak of black. Aralia ducked and I hit the floor. The crow flew out of the house and Mo gave chase, jaws snapping.
After a moment of sheltering in place, I lifted my head. “What the hell was that?”
“I don't know,” Aralia said.
The proverbial floodgates burst open. A breath later, the rest of the crows rushed out. Dozens of them poured from the shadows, cawing and flapping and screaming. I covered my head with my arms and screwed my eyes shut, the racket ringing in my ears until they ached with it. Even when the last of them emptied out, the noise still remained. I groaned and rolled over onto my back. “I'm getting really tired of things flying at me, you know?”
“Get your arse up, Beatrice,” Aralia huffed, her tone telling me that she felt the same way. Twice now we'd been attacked by angry things with wings. It was getting old.
I got up and kept my knife close just in case another crow was hiding somewhere. “So, the house is trashed, an entire flock of crows just so happened to be lurking around, and what else? There's always something else. Wanna take bets on what it is?”
She turned on me, her face spasming with rage I didn't really think I warranted. “Do you think this is a joke?”
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. My therapist said good humor was key in keeping my temper in check. Since I couldn't ignore the birds or the wreckage, I tried for something lighter. It obviously wasn't working. “Look, Aralia, I don't think any of this is funny but I'm sick of constantly worrying about what might be around the corner. I want to find the bastard that keeps harassing us like this and I want to hunt demons, but I also just kinda wanna watch a movie or two. Is that so bad?”
She hesitated, opening her mouth to speak before closing it again. The second time she did so, words came out. “I...suppose not. This was my idea, wasn't it?”
“And it's a good idea,” I said, surrendering her knife to make my point. There would be no more demon hunting tonight. “Which is why we should clean this place up and just act normal for a few hours. Deal?”
She slid both our knives into their thigh-holsters and nodded. “Yes, all right. Deal.”
“Okay, good,” I smiled. I went to put the couch upright when a thought occurred to me. “Wait. Where's Mo?”
“Killing those crows, I hope,” Aralia didn't seem at all concerned about our canine companion. She grabbed the couch, using her succubus given strength to hoist it up to its normal position. “Ugh, I can't believe this.”
I picked up a few shards of glass from where the window had been b
roken, then went to the door to look for Mo. It'd be getting dark soon and I didn't want him out there alone. “Mo!” I yelled. “Morgenstern! C'mon, boy, come inside before Aralia locks you out!”
She shooed me away. “Stop fussing over the dog and get me a broom.”
“He could get the bird flu or something.”
“He's not going to get the bird flu, Beatrice.”
“You don't know that!”
“I do know that,” she said, stomping off to find the broom herself.
I scanned the yard again. “How?”
The groan of opening doors and rustling clutter sounded from the kitchen, then Aralia reappeared with an old yellow broom in hand. “That dog isn't your standard fleabag, Beatrice. He's possessed.”
“What?” I asked that question a lot. Because I was Beatrice Todd, the butt of every joke. I was starting to think they had meetings on what they should and shouldn't tell me. Yeah, the dog's possessed. But that's not important information or anything. “Mo's possessed? Why didn’t anyone think to tell me this?”
She shrugged, sweeping up the glass I missed. “You never asked.”
“Uh, I never asked because why would I?” Mo passed as perfectly normal. Not a trace of demon on him. Unlike that dog at the church so many moons ago.
“It's a long story,” Aralia said, sounding annoyed. “Dante found him a few years ago and he was dying and, like I said, the man cares too much about everything, so he performed a little summoning ritual and here we are. Here Morgenstern is, I should say.”
Panting heavily, Dante's possessed dog came padding into the house like he hadn't just been hunting a flock of murderous, home invading crows. Blood stained his muzzle and a wide scratch festered above his right eye.
“You okay, buddy?” I crouched down, taking his big head in my hands. “Did those mean birds get you?”
He whined. For a demon dog, he was awfully gentle.
I kissed his nose. “Don't cry, Mo, we'll fix you right up. You'll be all better soon.”