I shouldn’t have believed him. He’d been in disguise twice. He’d lied to me several times. But I believed him about the summoning spell. “Can’t you just look through the books and see what they have?” I didn’t want them all to be destroyed. That would devastate Mr. Barry. He worshipped books.
“I was trying to do that. But it’s going to take too long and besides, I’m not entirely sure which book might lead to which other information. I’m not fluent in German and even if I were—Fallin, this is dangerous stuff. A lot of people have been affected already and I don’t want to take chances on anymore. This kind of information can get passed around like wildfire and people have no idea what it is really about.”
Mr. Barry was not going to walk in here any moment and tell me this didn’t have to happen. Wherever Mr. Barry was, it was bad news. I had seen him yesterday and I’d hoped that he would come in today and tell me everything had been taken care of. Instead, this guy had come in. That said plenty in itself.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“We’ve got to set fire to this room,” he said, and in such a bland way that it sounded perfectly reasonable.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“We’ll pull the fire alarm,” he said. “And make sure everyone gets evacuated before there’s any danger. The books will burn quickly and will be gone by the time the fire department arrives and saves the room and the school.”
But we weren’t going to be having German class in here anytime soon. Then again, without Mr. Barry, what would be the point of German class? The principal would get a real substitute and the thought of that made me depressed.
“There’s no other choice?” I asked.
“There are lots of other choices,” he said. “But they all lead to more people disappearing, dying, or having their lives ruined. I don’t want that on my conscience. What about you?”
I sighed. “Matches?” I asked.
He handed me matches.
Ordinarily, burning down your own classroom is not something that you’d think of as a necessary evil. Burning down a teacher’s precious store of books is a bad, bad thing, and you will get in a lot of serious trouble for doing it. You deserve to get in serious trouble.
Unless, of course, there are demons running wild at your school, summoning spells in German are spreading through your whole town, and people are going missing left and right. If that’s a problem for you, you may have to deal with it in a drastic way.
Using the matches to set fire to Mr. Barry’s book gave me no pleasure, let me assure you. I felt sick with grief, although part of that was for what had happened to Mr. Barry. I didn’t ask the janitor/substitute guy, although I was pretty sure he knew. I wasn’t ready to hear it yet. One terrible thing at a time.
“I think that’s good enough,” he said, when the fire had started on four different ends of the room. “We should get out now, before we have to deal with smoke inhalation. You know, that kills more people than fire ever does.”
“You don’t have some magic spell that makes you immune to smoke inhalation?” I asked him.
“Afraid not. I don’t really have any magic at all.” He sounded serious—and rather regretful.
“But you’re a demon fighter, aren’t you? You had that knife. You knew how to find Carter and that demon woman at just the right time?”
“Just an ordinary knife. Out of a hotel kitchen, in fact. And I knew about Carter because I’ve started to get an instinct about these things. It’s not magic, I assure you. It’s just experience. And not one I would wish on anyone.”
The flames were rising higher. I could see the air start to shimmer around me. I could feel the heat starting to make me drip sweat—which was evaporated as soon as it touched the air.
“I want you to teach me,” I said. “I want to know about demon hunting.” My whole life, people had been asking me what I wanted to do when I grew up. I’d never had a good answer. Mom wanted me to be a nurse. Dad wanted me to be a lawyer. I’d always thought maybe it would have something to do with my weight training. A personal trainer or something.
But it was suddenly clear to me, with all the flames around me, the feeling of excitement that I felt when I should have been running away screaming—I knew what I was meant to be. A demon fighter.
“Let’s talk about that later,” he said. He reached for the door.
I could hear a sizzling sound, and then his face went strangely bland again, even more than before.
The door swung open and we both ran out.
He headed for the fire alarm about twenty yards away. I think he must have marked where it was beforehand, because I couldn’t have found it that fast. The school was going to be filled with people screaming and running in about ten seconds, I thought. He’d do a disappearing act and I might never see him again, unless he decided for some reason to come back and teach me how to be a demon fighter. I couldn’t see any way to make him do that, though, except begging him.
“I could be good at this,” I told him. “I want to help people. And kill demons. Someone must have taught you. Don’t you think you could teach me? Make me an apprentice or something?” I felt like I was talking about Harry Potter, which was for little kids, and that made me feel stupid, but I didn’t know the right words.
“No one taught me,” he said. “I had to teach myself.”
“Well, then, you could help me learn faster. I could do it better.” Was that the right thing or the wrong thing to say? Sometimes guys are so touchy about girls competing with them. But he wasn’t a guy. He was old. He wouldn’t look at me like that at all. Would he?
“Look, I’ll think about it, all right?” he said. “But as soon as I pull this, I need to go.”
“You’re not going to leave without telling me your name, at least,” I said. He didn’t seem so forgettable to me anymore, and I wanted a name to put with his face.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.
“Why not?” I asked. Did he think I would tell the cops?
“A name matters,” he said. “Maybe I’m not ready to give it to you. It has power.”
I shook my head. “So I have to guess it or something? Like in that fairy tale? You’re the little man who offers to spin the straw into gold? Rumpelstiltskin or something?”
“The miller’s daughter has to guess his name,” he said. “She makes lists and lists of names, and they’re all the wrong one. When she gets the right name, he stomps his foot on the floor and gets swallowed up into hell.”
“You saying you’re going to get swallowed into hell if you tell me your name?” I said skeptically.
“My name isn’t Rumpelstiltskin,” he said.
“If you don’t give me your real name, I’m going to call you that anyway.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Rumpy for short maybe,” I said. “Or stilty? No, that doesn’t work. Tiltsky?”
“I guess I’ll have to live with that,” he said, his blue eyes staring carefully into mine. They didn’t seem so ordinary then, though the color didn’t change. They seemed—young somehow. Like he remembered what it was like to be in high school, to be the odd person out wherever you went, to never know who you really were or who your real friends were going to be. “I’m sorry, by the way. About all of this. It’s going to be hard after today, and I apologize for that.”
He pulled the fire alarm and then started to run. I tried to run after him, but it turns out that he runs a lot faster than he looks like he could.
Chapter 6
Most of the rest of the school day was spent outside, in lines, waiting for the fire department to come in and put out the fire. It would have been boring except that I was terrified that someone would place me at the scene of the crime and I’d get all the blame for it.
“Fallin, what’s wrong with you? You look either like you need to throw up or like you need to punch someone,” said Georgia.
“I saw him again,” I whispered to her.
>
“Who?”
“The janitor. The one who threw that knife at the demon and saved Carter. He was in Mr. Barry’s classroom. He set fire to it.”
Georgia looked around at the adults who were standing closer to the building as the firemen went in and out. “Are you going to tell someone?”
“Tell them what? That demons are real and people are making bargains with them? I don’t think that would go over very well.” And the fact that I was black would not make me sound more rational to them.
“But if he’s dangerous, then what are we going to do?”
“My current plan is to get a little dangerous myself,” I said.
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised by that. Fallin, seriously. You can’t do this all on your own. There’s bad stuff going on here. Really bad stuff.”
“Which is why I’m not going to tell anyone. I mean, look at the economy. The state of social security and health care. The government. The wars we’re currently involved in.” I waved my hands at the adults.
“And you think this janitor is more to be trusted than they are?” said Georgia.
“I think he’s—interesting,” I said.
Georgia smiled. “Interesting? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word to describe a guy before.”
“He’s not a guy. He’s—like eighty years old.” Or maybe only sixty. But still, it was icky to think like that. I just wanted to know about his demon hunting skills. That was it. No more than that.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with feeling attracted to someone,” said Georgia.
“There is if it’s someone who’s way old. He could get arrested. I could get arrested. You remember what happened last year.” One of the seniors had admitted to having an affair with the drama teacher, Mr. Wells. It was pretty creepy to the rest of us. He was at least sixty years old and had been teaching at the school for years and the thought that he might have been having affairs with a lot of the girls in the drama program was really upsetting. He claimed that Ariel was the first time, but no one was really sure that was true. She ended up leaving before the school year was over, and he was fired. They hired a new teacher, a woman this time who no one would think about having an affair with. But the stress about what happened still lingers. A teacher is just over the line. No one here even talks about having a crush on a teacher anymore, like we did in junior high quite innocently. It’s not fun and it’s not funny.
“I’m pretty sure you aren’t the one who would be arrested,” said Georgia.
“But ew!” I shivered. Every time I went past the drama room, I felt a little sick. I’d taken a class from Mr. Wells my freshman year. I’d liked him. I’d thought he really understood students. I just hadn’t been interested in drama. I didn’t like the extra spotlight that came with being on stage, and I didn’t like to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
“Fallin, you’re smarter than most guys our age. And more mature. I can totally see why you would go for someone older. And it’s not like he’s actually a teacher, so it’s not like Mr. Well at all.”
“I’m not going for him, Georgia,” I said.
“You sure?” she said. She seemed disappointed suddenly.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“It’s just that—you haven’t gone out with anyone for years.”
“There’s a reason for that. No one asks me out,” I said.
“Have you ever considered that there might be a reason for that?”
“Duh,” I said. “Because they all look at my skin first. And also because they don’t think I’m girly enough.” I twirled around in a circle, then realized that I was sort of insulting Georgia, who went out tons. And was pretty girly when she wanted to be.
“You don’t think it could possibly be the fact that you give off a certain repelling vibe?”
I stared at Georgia. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t have to look at me like that. You must know that you make them all feel like they are dirt under your feet. Which mostly they are. We all are, aren’t we?”
“No, you’re not. No, I don’t do that, Georgia. Why would I do that?” And why would she accuse me of doing that. I started tearing at the grass in clumps. It was the only thing I could do, since there wasn’t a punching bag nearby for me or any weights to lift. Unless you count Georgia, of course. Somehow, I didn’t think she would be all that happy for me to use her as a weight.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Well, what about this janitor? What’s his name?” Georgia was very good at changing the subject.
I wasn’t so good at it. I kept tearing at the grass. I knew Georgia noticed what I was doing. I also knew she was not looking at me doing it, and working hard not to tell me to stop doing it.
It made me wonder about what she said about me. Did I really make other people feel bad? Did I frighten guys away? If they couldn’t handle a strong woman, then wasn’t that their fault, not mine?
“He wouldn’t tell me his name. He said something about names being too important to demons. But I think he just didn’t want me to know his name. He’s hiding something.”
“I see.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you like a secret,” said Georgia. “Or at least, it intrigues you. And you like being intrigued. It makes you think harder and it makes you feel smarter.”
“And you think I need to feel smart?” I asked.
“Smart or strong,” said Georgia.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being smart or strong. I don’t have to pretend to be weak just to get some stupid high school guys to date me.”
Georgia’s cheeks went red.
“I didn’t mean—” I said. I really hadn’t. Or at least, I hadn’t meant to say that out loud like that. Georgia was my friend, my only friend. I couldn’t afford to lose her.
“It’s weird. I don’t remember anything about him. He seemed so forgettable to me.”
“I think he tries to be forgettable, somehow. It’s part of the reason he can fight demons so well. He can go places that other people can’t get to. He looks so unassuming, no one would stop him.”
“And you can’t ever do that,” Georgia murmured. “You can never be the invisible one. Not here, anyway. Not in Utah.”
“Well, that’s true. But why does that matter?”
“No reason, really. They do say that opposites attract, Fallin.”
“I’m not attracted to him. He’s old enough to be my grandfather. My dad would have a fit. My mom would—want to give him a physical or something. And besides, it’s practically obscene. What would people think?”
“Since when did you care what anyone thought?” said Georgia.
That was when they finally decided that the school was safe for us to go back inside. It was second lunch, but they said everyone should go get lunch, even though that would mean long lines. Georgia always had school lunch and I had home lunch, so I avoided her and went to my locker. I wasn’t hungry, it turned out.
I passed by Carter’s locker and saw he was there, too. He looked better than he had on Friday night, but he also looked a little lost.
“Carter, can I talk to you?” I said.
He stared at me. “I don’t really want to talk about that.”
“Fine. I didn’t want to talk about that, either. It’s about something else.”
He didn’t look like he believed me. He kept his hand on his locker. “What, then?”
“I just wanted to ask you a question, all right? I want you to answer me honestly. Can you promise me that?”
“I suppose,” he said.
“I just wondered if you’d ever thought of asking me out.”
“On a date?” he said, sounding surprised.
“Yes, on a date. I’m not asking if you’d ask me out. I’m not saying I want to go out with you or anything. I just wondered—” I stopped because this was not going well. This was the kind of thing you talked about to
other girls, not guys.
“Sure, I’ve thought about it,” said Carter.
“What? You don’t have to lie to me. I mean, you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”
“But I used to think about it. You’re—well, you’re pretty. But—”
“But I’m black,” I said.
“Well, there is that. And also, you’re kind of intense.”
“Intense?”
“Strong.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“It makes me sound like a wimp to say that, doesn’t it? Fallin, I like you. But I also like cayenne pepper. It’s a strong flavor.”
“I’m cayenne pepper?” I said.
He put up his hands. “You said you wanted me to tell you the truth. I’m trying to tell you the truth. It isn’t you, it’s me.”
“That’s what people always say when they mean that it’s not them,” I said.
“My mom told my sister once that there are some girls who are just not going to find someone in high school. They have to wait until the guys are more grown up.”
That sounded like something else that people said when they meant that there was something wrong with you.
“OK. Thanks,” I said. I’d had enough. Maybe I was strong, but there is such a thing as too much truth all at once.
“Friends?” asked Carter.
“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid I’ll make you look bad at the gym if you’re not nice to me,” I said. I meant it as a joke.
It didn’t look like Carter thought it was very funny.
“Friends,” I said. I thought of Rumpy, or whatever his name was. He’d never been afraid of me. He looked me in the eye and saw me as an equal. He thought I was strong, and he liked it.
Maybe there was just the teensiest bit of truth in what Georgia had said. I liked that about him. What was wrong with that? That didn’t mean I was attracted to him. Because ew! It just meant that I liked being treated the way he treated me.
“Hey, Carter. One more thing.”
“Uh, OK,” said Carter.
“How did you get that demon? I mean, you had to summon it, didn’t you? To make the bargain?”
The Gift of the Demons Page 5