Demon (The Faery Chronicles Book 2)

by Leslie Claire Walker

  “She was just talking,” the Singer said. “Going on about the classes she takes every day. Living at Beth’s house. How crazy Beth’s mom is.” Her tone dropped half an octave. “How she’s such good friends with Amy.”

  “How uncomfortable for you.”

  Beth looked up at both of us, eyes huge behind her glasses. “You could cut the tension with a machete.”

  “Thanks for the sarcasm. Can we get back to the part where she’s missing?”

  “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, anyway—if it’s anyone’s fault,” the Singer said. “Melody has a way of getting under people’s skin and doing what we least expect.”

  That was the key. Melody said she’d gone to the house, but it wouldn’t be Beth’s house, would it? The next place I’d think to look would be Oscar’s. Then my house. Maybe Amy’s, especially with that crack Melody had made to the Singer. But who’d want to go there and listen to Amy’s folks in the attic chow down on squirrels or rats or whatever? No one, that was who.

  The last place Melody would ever go was her mother’s house. The place where her stepfather beat the shit out of her. Where her mother had made it plain that Melody didn’t matter. That love was a lie.

  “Beth, you know where Melody used to live?” I asked.

  She nodded. “We went there with her to pick her up a box of stuff after her mother booted her.”

  “Tell me how to get there.”

  “I only know if I go,” she said. “It’s a thing. I have terrible memory for directions. I have to see places. Landmarks. Then I can tell you which way to turn.”

  “This from the school brainiac?”

  “I inherited it from my grandma. Sorry. I know the address, though. It’s in Sugar Land.”

  “That’s too far away for her to be zoned to our school,” I said. “That’s even too far away for bussing.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “Then how’d she get in?”

  “Probably the same way she does everything else,” I said.

  Mr. Landon wandered in from the back yard. He looked a little dazed around the edges. There were crickets in the rolled hems of his pants. “My grass is purple. Did you know that, Rude?”

  “I didn’t notice.” Clearly, he didn’t know about Melody rabbiting. Just as clearly, he didn’t look like I should tell him. He looked like he needed to go to bed.

  The Singer held his gaze. Her words shimmered as they rolled off her tongue. “We’ll fix it, Franklin. Why don’t you hit the hay? We’re fine here, especially now that Rude’s up.”

  He nodded. “Wake me if you need something. Or when it’s all over.”

  “Count on it,” she said.

  He toddled off.

  “Did you spell him?” I asked.

  “With everything I had left. It’s going—the gift.”

  “You’re human.”

  “Not yet, but it’s close.”

  My mouth curved in a wry smile. “I don’t know whether to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “How about not?” She looked at Beth. “Melody’s house. How far away are we talking?”

  “Thirty minutes? Maybe more with the cars we’ll have to move out of the way.”

  The Singer sighed. “If you have to see where we’re going, we can’t take my shortcut.”

  Under the ground. “Kevin told me about that. About how fast and asphyxiating it is. Also, if your faery powers go—” I snapped my fingers “—then we’ll be stuck under the ground. Any cars left here that we can borrow?”

  “No,” she said. “All gone.”

  “We can take the nearest abandoned one, then.”

  “Assuming the keys are in it.”

  Beth closed the book. “I can hotwire a car.”

  We looked at her.

  “Theoretically, that is. I read how in a book.”

  “That works,” the Singer said.

  Maybe. “If we can find one that doesn’t need to scan a chip to start.”

  “That would be key,” Beth said. “I’m a geek, not a professional car thief.”

  I left a note for Mr. Landon in case the Singer’s magic words wore off and he woke while we were gone. I put too much information in it, which he didn’t need, but if Kevin or someone else came home, they’d have everything they needed to know. Or at least everything we could give them.

  The late morning sun stung my eyes badly enough that I went back inside and pilfered a pair of Kevin’s sunglasses. They helped a little, but not completely. I still had a hard time looking at the expanse of the sky. Even the white wisps of the clouds dazzled too much.

  No one else out and about in the neighborhood, though the unmistakable purr of a lawnmower drifted from several blocks away. The sound jangled my last nerve.

  We walked in the direction of school past empty houses whose dark windows looked like hollow eyes. Cars crouched in some of the driveways, but most of them were locked behind garage doors. Made sense, seeing as the apocalypse had happened pretty late. A lot of people would’ve been home. We checked every one we could get to. None of them had keys inside—why would they?

  Beth didn’t like any of them for stealing, so we kept moving.

  She watched her feet, following the uneven lines of asphalt patching the city used to fix the street. The Singer hummed to herself. I tried not to go crazy. Zach chased three squirrels. He caught zero.

  The sign at the front of the school didn’t help. Too normal. As if in spite of the world having gone to hell in a handbasket, somebody still cared about grades and mums festooned with glittery ribbons.

  PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCES – OCTOBER 1

  HOMECOMING – OCTOBER 15

  GO CARDINALS!

  It could all still happen. If we succeeded.

  If. Such a small word. Even thinking it felt like walking a wire over the Grand Canyon without a net.

  No one had picked up the trash on the school lawn lately. We stepped over cigarette butts and crushed diet soda cans and a pink plastic barrette. One of the cheerleaders had left her pompoms propped against a brick pillar by the front door. The breeze rattled the red and white plastic.

  In the front parking lot by the principal’s office, we found an ancient four-door Chevy. No keys, but it had possibilities. Also, it smelled like week-old French fries, and ungraded homework covered the floorboards.

  Beth used some choice four-letter words that even I wouldn’t, and she sliced open the heel of her hand on the hard plastic of the steering column, but she made the thing run. It had half a tank of gas. Good to go.

  No one wanted me behind the wheel. No one wanted me as close to the wheel as the front seat, either. So Beth rode shotgun. The Singer drove.

  It took her a while to get used to the fact that a four-door junker responded differently than a school bus. Too much lead foot on the gas pedal. Stopping short enough to leave rubber on the road and throw us into the rigid straps of our seat belts. I had to hold onto the dog to keep him from flying into the front of the car.

  The Singer managed to get us to the freeway. Highway 59, headed south. Wove around an abandoned food truck to get us up the ramp and took it as easy as she could, finding us clear concrete to drive on. A billboards advertised the newest ice house—happy hour Monday through Friday from 2:00 to 4:00. The one after that, diamond rings guaranteed to make your girlfriend fall in love all over again. And the one after that, and the world’s most badass exterminator service.

  Beth squirmed in her seat. “What do you think will happen when we get there?”

  “Besides my kicking Melody’s ass?” the Singer asked.

  “You really think you can do that? No offense, but she’s getting more powerful and your juju’s not exactly running on all cylinders.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. I’d almost forgotten how helpless I’m becoming, but now I feel so much better knowing that any minute I’m not going to be able to help my friends. Even better, I could become a liability.”

  “Sorry,” Beth said.

&nb
sp; The Singer shook her head. “No, I am. So you know, I did okay when I was human.”

  “Put the beat down on a lot of chicks, did you?”

  That earned Beth a half-grin. “No. I only fought when I didn’t have another option. But my right hook didn’t suck.”

  I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the backs of their seats. “She’s way ahead of us. Has been the whole time.”

  “You’re not lying,” the Singer said.

  How, though? I closed my eyes. Called myself every name I could think of.

  Beth turned to look at me. “What?”

  “We forgot something,” I said. “Back in the kitchen when you read the book, Singer. All the stuff we need to complete the spell. We sent people after every one of those things except what we already had or had easy access to, like Melody with her blood and you with your song. Everyone had a job to do, right? But there was one thing that nobody knew what it was.”

  The Singer’s eyes widened. “The blood of the guilty.”

  “Kevin said he could tell just by looking at Melody that she had someone in mind. It didn’t occur to me to think about who. Here we are heading to the house where she lived a nightmare. I can guarantee you the guilty person is her stepfather. Or her mom.”

  She nodded. “I agree.”

  Beth laid a hand on the Singer’s arm. With every word, her fingers tightened. “But she’s not going to kill them, right? She just has to take their blood, like she has to take her own. That’s all, right?”

  I took in the color of Beth’s light, which had gone from bright to sickly yellow. The library smell of her, gone from the comforting smell of old books to moldering paper. The confusion in her eyes. The prayer for reassurance in her grasp.

  She wanted to believe that Melody was still the same girl she’d met at school. That no matter what else happened, Melody still had a moral center. Something innately human about her that made sense.

  “No,” I said.

  The Singer’s fingers tightened around the wheel.

  Beth turned around in her seat to look at me.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but no,” I said. “What her stepfather did to her—what her mother did—was unforgiveable. Do you really think she’ll show them mercy? They didn’t have any for her.”

  Beth’s eyes filled with tears.

  I tried to gentle my voice. “I know a lot about gates between worlds. About what it takes to open them. If the spell calls for blood, no matter how powerful the blood, a little bit won’t be enough. It’ll have to be a lot. A sacrifice.”

  “She’s going to sacrifice herself?”

  “The entire spell revolves around her,” I said. “She’ll take just enough blood from herself to get the job done. The others, though—that’s another story.”

  She turned away. She let go of the Singer’s arm, the skin white where her fingers had dug in.

  Hard truths. They had to be told. Hearing it in my out-loud voice made it feel too real. Made the car start to feel too small to contain me. My skin started to crawl. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Davies,” the Singer said. “Look. Other side of the highway.”

  Another car wove through traffic at speed. A police cruiser with a familiar license plate.

  The Singer honked the Chevy’s horn to get their attention and pulled onto the left shoulder, coming to a jarring stop. We climbed out of the car. The others did the same.

  I drew the air deep into my lungs. It brought only small relief. I didn’t even have enough energy to give Officer Burns a hard time or pat Zach on the head when he pressed against my leg.

  A sheen of sweat plastered Burns’ hair to his skull. Mud splotched his uniform, pants ripped at the knees. He limped over to the retaining wall and rested his hands on top. His pinky ring glinted in the sun.

  Behind him, Officer Reid and Stacy didn’t look any worse for wear. Stacy held the jar of living fire in both hands, close to her body.

  “Good job,” I said to her.

  Burns turned his head and spat. “She’s not the one who had to tangle with the gator.”

  “I know. I saw.”

  “I thought you did,” she said. “I felt you there.”

  I hadn’t figured on that. Then again, it was her spell that let me see.

  Reid adjusted his gun belt. “Where are you people headed to? You’re supposed to be at the house.”

  The Singer filled them in on Melody.

  “Sonofabitch,” Reid said. “We should follow you.”

  I nodded. We needed to stick together. To back each other up. I thought about the note I’d left. How long it would take for Malek and Scott and Kevin and Amy to get back home. To see it. To meet up with us.

  “I want us to get to Melody sooner than later,” I said. “I have a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.”

  “You should get in touch with the others now. Before we get going again,” Stacy said.

  My thoughts exactly. “With your spell, I’ll be able to see them. I just have to figure out how to communicate with them once I do.”

  The corners of Stacy’s mouth turned down. “I didn’t think about that when we did the magic. I should’ve—”

  The Singer interrupted. “I think I can help with that.”

  Her voice. Her words. I looked at her sideways. “You sure?”

  “I don’t have a lot left. I can let it fade away—” she glanced at Beth “—or I can use it.”

  I looked at the ground. Weeds growing from cracks in the concrete. A long strip of rubber from a blown tire. Broken glass. I couldn’t sit there. Didn’t want to sit in the car.

  I lowered myself to the ground by the car and leaned into the driver’s side door. The road felt warm through my shorts. I crossed my legs in front of me.

  The Singer settled there, grit scratching the leather of her pants, the peacock feathers of her halter fluttering in the breeze. The sun warmed her shoulders. Turned her hair into strands of fiery copper.

  She took my hands in hers. The strength in her grip bolstered me. She met my gaze without blinking. Depths of time echoed in her eyes—the last of her fae immortality? She brought all of herself to this moment. Everything she’d ever been and was now and ever would be. It humbled me. I understood why Kevin loved her.

  “This could end us both,” she said. “Make me human. Make you Destroyer, all the way. You should know that if you kill me, you’ll have to face him. Tell him what you did. Pay whatever price he demands. You understand?”

  Kevin.

  “I don’t ever want to do that,” I said. “Not any of it.”

  “Then don’t take my life.”

  “I promise, Singer.”

  She didn’t say anything about not making promises I couldn’t keep. She squeezed my hands. “I’ll follow you, like before.”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

  I thought of Kevin and Amy. They’d gone to Buffalo Bayou, near downtown. The city had built a popular jogging trail there. I’d walked up and down its length under the curve of oak and pine and alder and willow branches. Climbed up and down the slope of grass that led to the water.

  My intuition rose from the bowl of my belly. Wound its way up and around my spine. I grabbed hold of it for all I was worth. I told it where I wanted to go. Rode it into the sky across miles of roads, over concrete and steel, to a particular spot at the water’s edge. Through the eyes of the grackles in the trees, I saw them.

  They’d parked the Explorer in the lot and gone down to the bayou, which smelled like wild water—rain, and water that’d seeped from the soil. The catfish that hugged the bottom. The snakes that slithered close to shore. The water had a muddy, green look to it.

  I caught scent of the people there, too. Two humans. The former god with his poisoned blood. The mostly-fae with the amazing wingspan and the distant attitude.

  Three of them stood right beside it, reeds brushing their knees. The sun glinted off the current—and off of Malek’s bald head.
Scott said something that made Amy laugh. A brittle laugh that the slightest touch could break into a million shards. The wind blew her hair into a tangle of blue-black feathers. She looked so much more relaxed than I’d seen her in months, with none of the nervousness that she’d shown at Kevin’s house.

  Kev paced behind them. He watched Amy like a proverbial hawk. He grimaced at her, too, like being in such close proximity hurt him. Or like he had to force himself to be there.

  Who knew what he felt? What it must be like to be human and to have that humanity stolen a little bit at a time until you didn’t recognize yourself at all?

  The Singer.

  I felt her presence. The shine of her consciousness beside me. The scent of patchouli. She focused on Amy.

  Who held a mason jar in one hand. Twisted the top off with the other. Bent to scoop water with a trembling hand. Her light, her colors—shrieked anticipation. She’d been waiting for something, and whatever it was, it was near. The closer to the water, the harder she shook.

  She froze when Kevin’s cold voice cut her. “It has to be gathered from the heart of the current.”

  She glanced at him. “You couldn’t have told us that before?”

  “I just realized.” He tacked an apology to the end. An afterthought. “Sorry. I’ve never made living water before.”

  “That means someone has to swim out,” she said.

  Scott sighed. “It’s not gonna be you, Amy. You suck at swimming.”

  “I do not.”

  “I grew up with you, remember? We had swim lessons together.”

  “I was five,” she said.

  “And you still haven’t gotten any better. Bonus, the water’s totally nasty. I’ll go.”

  She shook her head. “The current’s too strong.”

  It was. Even the bird’s eye view showed me that. However fast the water moved on the surface, the undertow would be a lot worse.

  “I’ll go,” Kevin said.

  Scott rolled his eyes. “Wings. Not the most aerodynamic appendages in the history of the world. They’ll get caught on something.”

  The most logical person to volunteer for the swimming? Malek. But he didn’t lift a finger to sign that he’d do it. In fact, he hadn’t looked at anyone except Amy. He kept his gaze tuned to her still.