by Eliza Nolan
“Are you hurt?” Her eyes, dark with circles, are wide with fear, and I realize she’s misjudged my tears of sadness for pain.
“I just slipped.” I push myself up, wiping the cold tears from my cheek and look around for my gloves. “I can’t get the stupid ball thingy lined up with the trailer, and the guy on the YouTube video is mocking me.” I hold my phone out to her. “We’re never going to get this thing hooked up. We should just leave it.”
She gently shoos my phone back towards me with her perfectly French manicured fingers and gives me a pink-lipped smile.
“Look, it’s going to be okay,” she says, with her somehow always peppy tone. “We’re almost there. The trailer has been shoveled out. And those tires look like they’re inflated and in good shape.” She always has to find the positives when I’m trying to tell her about the world ending. It’s so frustrating.
But she’s right. The tires are dark and shiny with deep tread—brand new. And the pavement around the trailer is all shoveled out. Not by me. Our parents must have done it. And another thing—I remember it being up on blocks at some point in the past. Those are gone now, too. Almost as if our parents knew we might need to take it and recently prepared it for travel. Prickles run down my spine, and I share a look with Grace. Our parents did this. Our parents knew this was coming.
They didn’t warn us.
But last night, that look in Mom’s eyes. She was hoping they’d never have to tell us. But when I found that book. I ruined it by summoning Grace.
“I have all my stuff packed. Do you have everything?” she asks. I nod. I’ve already packed up the back with our sleeping bags, my clothes, and all the easily packable food from the house. “You’re bringing your computer, right?” she adds.
I chuckle and shake my head at my own flakiness. How could I forget my baby? “I have to go get it.” I find my gloves, cramming them in my pockets. “I’ll run and grab it, then we can get this thing hooked up.”
“I think I can do this. You go get your computer.” She tugs her hat off, twists it in her hands and crouches over the hookup.
I race inside, dash up the steps and find my baby where I’d nearly abandoned it on my desk amongst a pile of homework. I grab my backpack from my chair, dump the schoolbooks out onto the floor, and shove my computer inside, then turn, searching my room. Did I forget anything else? My corkboard is covered with printed photos. Most of them are on the cloud, but I swipe a photo of Grace and me with our parents at the Grand Canyon, and one of Fiona and me.
Fiona. She said she would cover for me with her parents and make up an excuse for why I didn’t come back with her last night. But would she lie if the police came to talk to her? And what about Jenna? She was with Grace and our parents when everything happened at the Christmas concert last night. There’s no way she’ll keep quiet. But what the heck would she say?
Oh God. We have to get out of town before the police have a chance to talk to her.
I stash the photos in the bag, shoulder my pack, and bound towards the stairs.
Ding dong.
My heart nearly explodes at the sound of the doorbell, and I skid to a stop at the top step. It’s nine in the morning, who the hell could that be?
I crouch and peer around the banister. The jet-black hair of my bestie, Fiona, peeks up at me through the glass in the front door. I blow out a breath as relief washes over me, and I jog down the steps, flinging open the door and nearly falling into her arms.
“Thank God, it’s you! I thought you were the police looking for Mom and Dad.”
Fiona wraps her arms around me and squeezes. If anyone understands how screwed up this all is, it’s her. She was there when my parents were taken away by the demon. My breath shakes and I sniffle, wiping away a tear. Someone else who knows what I went through.
“You guys all ready?” she asks.
I peer over her shoulder and scan the street before ushering her inside.
“We’re all packed. Just hooking up the camper and then we’re gone.”
“Where is…?” Fiona doesn’t finish, instead searching the hallway and stairs behind me.
“Grace?” I say. Is Fiona scared of Grace? Should I be scared of Grace? Fear prickles up my spine.
No. She’s my sister. And she needs me.
“She’s out back,” I say.
“Cool.” Fiona’s shoulders relax. “Glad I caught you. I brought a few things you might want.” She slips a loaded backpack off her shoulder and hands it over.
I take it and she helps me open the top.
“It’s the spirit board and a bunch of leftover candles and herbs. There’s also a book I got a while back. It’s like an occult reference book.”
I dig through the neatly packed bag. There’s Tupperware filled with baggies of herbs and several different colored candles. All squeezed in next to a rather large, dog-eared paperback, and the old, wooden spirit board, folded in half on its metal hinges.
“The planchette is folded up inside the board.”
It’s like a starter kit for whatever weirdness I’m about to wander into. The contents in this bag might actually help me make sense of some things. I tackle hug her once more. “Thank you, Fiona!”
“I almost threw it all away and burned the board after what happened to your sister and parents, but I figured maybe you could use the stuff. I mean, if nothing else, your sister could use it to call her ‘people’ or whatever.” She smirks nervously.
I cover my mouth with my hand, hiding my smile.
“Too soon?” she asks.
“Probably,” I say, allowing myself a small chuckle. “But I think I needed that.”
“Where are you guys headed?”
“Florida University in Miami. That’s where Mom went to school when this all began. I thought we should start there.”
“And you have enough money and food to last you a while?”
“We have our parents’ emergency stash—a thousand dollars. It should be enough to get us down there. But I don’t know how long it’ll last, so I’m planning on trying to save it.”
A car hums to a stop out front, drawing our eyes to the glass at the top of the door. I peer out to find a police cruiser with two cops inside pulled up right behind Fiona’s rusted, grey sedan. They’re still in the car, shuffling stuff around. But they’re moving to get out. I duck down, my heart pounding.
Fiona nudges me towards the living room.
She slips her wallet from her coat pocket and produces a wad of twenties. “I got a chunk out of my bank this morning. It’s only two hundred, but I thought you would need it if you want to stay off the grid.”
“No.” I shove the money away. “Why?”
“Because you’re my friend. And I feel partially responsible for all this. I want to help you if I can. You have to let me.” Her eyes lock on mine, and she presses the money into my hand.
I sigh. “Thank you.”
She ushers me past the couch and towards the dining room. “Give me your phone.”
I slip my phone out of my pocket and put it in her open hand.
“Tell your sister to toss her phone and set up new burner phones. Buy them with cash. When you get your new phone, don’t call me. I’ve set up a new email address.” She hands me a slip of paper with the email already written down. “Create a new email address and send me the new number here. I’ll get my own burner phone. That way they won’t be able to track you through me or your phones. I’ll do my own digging on this end and see if I can find anything that will help you find your parents.”
“You watch too many crime shows,” I say.
“Which is how I’m about to save your ass.” She powers down my phone and shoves it underneath the couch cushions, then points through the dining room to the kitchen and the back door. “Get going. I’ll hold off the police.”
I cram the two-hundred dollars into my pocket. “I’ll pay you back.”
She shoos me towards the kitchen doorway, fluffs out her hair, and
plasters an innocent smile on her face—the one she uses when she’s about to lie to her parents. She winks at me and turns towards the front door.
The doorbell rings as my eye catches on Mom’s purse on the table where we must have left it last night. We already have her keys, but there could be something else useful in there. I hook my arm through the leather strap and hurry for the kitchen.
“Hello, officers, won’t you come in?” Fiona’s cheery voice reaches me from the hall.
“Is this the Hunter residence?” an officer asks, his voice sharp. I can almost feel him scrutinizing our front hallway, searching for anything out of place. I continue tiptoeing into the kitchen.
“They’re out of town. I’m watching their house for them,” Fiona offers in a smooth voice.
Weighted down with my computer pack, Fiona’s occult-filled bag, and Mom’s purse, I nearly drop everything as a phone ring echoes through the kitchen from somewhere close. My heart stops, and I freeze, eyes wide.
“What’s that?” the officer asks. “Is someone else here?”
Damn it.
“I don’t know. Maybe one of them left their phone here,” Fiona says.
The hall floor creaks, and the officers’ boots clomp farther inside the house.
I swallow the sour taste rising in my throat. Not good. Visions race through my head of my sister and I being taken away to separate homes, no longer able to look for our parents. Grace needs my help. She can’t face becoming a demon alone. She needs me, and I owe her this.
The phone chirps out again. Knowing they won’t stop searching until they find the ringing phone, I rifle through my arm full of bags, finally locating Mom’s purse and digging out her phone. In one movement I place it on the kitchen counter, lunge on tiptoes to the back door, and pull it open as swiftly and quietly as possible. The phone chirp echoes even louder through the kitchen as I softly close the door behind me and race to the SUV. Hopefully whoever is calling Mom will keep the police busy long enough for us to get out of here.
4
Grace
I step back and examine the hitch once more. Coupler on ball hitch, check. Electrical thingy plugged in, check.
I did it! I actually remembered how. It’s been several years since my last lesson, so I was a tad worried. But it worked! I glance around to make sure I’m alone and slip myself a high five. I need a win right now. Small win, but a win.
I squat down to grab the jack and whack my forehead on the side of the camper and stumble back, eyes wide and blinking. Small, short-lived win. I rub my forehead, which doesn’t hurt too much, but I’ll probably get a bruise. I swat the trailer with my gloved hand, then carefully reach down and slide the jack out and stow it on the floor of the back seat.
My toes finally numbing from the cold, I race around the car, brushing the light dusting of snow from the windows, then scurry into the passenger seat, reach over, and start the car to warm it up. I tug my hat down over my ears against the chill in the air.
Eva only has a learner’s permit, but since I learned last night that I’m a de...not normal, I’m not sure I’m safe to drive, with everything on my mind. I rub my forehead, which throbs dully where I banged it. Yeah, I shouldn’t be driving. Anyways, Eva’s always begging to drive.
Poor Eva. She’s been through a lot, too. She’s the one who brought all this stuff to light. She’s the one who found that stupid book. I take in a long slow breath and let it out. She blames herself, but she’s not the one who made the deal with Inanna, the fertility demon. She’s not the evil demon who took advantage of our drunk and stupid parents when they were young.
I kick a plastic jug of road salt stashed near my feet. Inanna.
She said she could teach me about myself if I went with her. Did I make the right choice to stay? Yes. The answer is yes. I might not know anything about what I am, but Inanna is the whole reason I am this way. It’s all her fault. I would rather be blissfully ignorant and in this world with Eva. I belong here with her. My baby sister. She needs me with our parents gone. Plus, since last night the horns haven’t returned. Maybe the worst part is over.
My stomach twists. My nerves aren’t so sure.
I wrench the tub of Christmas cookies out from the mass of bags in the back seat. There’s only about a dozen half-broken ones left after our cookie binge last night. I fish out a tree and bite off the bottom corner; the sugar melts in my mouth, and the tension in my shoulders eases a little. Cookies for breakfast. I’m not usually such a big sugar person, but this morning my sweet-tooth craving is off the charts. Protein bars seem to be the only semi-healthy thing I want to eat—if you can call a cookie-dough protein bar healthy. I guess in crisis mode the body wants what the body wants.
Eva races around the side of the house weighed down with several bags, her eyes wide with fear. She tosses her burden into the back seat with all the bags of food. The driver’s side door opens sending in a whoosh of cold air, and Eva slides in behind the wheel, gently closing the door behind her. Her nostrils flare and her eyes comb our tiny, fenced-in backyard, as if we’re in a haunted forest or something.
Maybe I shouldn’t let her drive. Maybe she’s further gone than I am.
“You’re letting me drive?” she whispers as she continues to scope out the yard.
“I didn’t think I was up to it. But if you need me to—”
“No,” she whispers. “It’s fine. We just gotta go.”
“Why are you whispering?” I whisper back. “What’s going on?” I pop the top back on the cookies and sit straighter, scanning our surroundings for whatever’s freaking her out. But the morning is quiet. The snow-covered yard is empty.
“Nothing,” she says and shifts the SUV into drive.
The car jerks, and then there’s a long, metal groan behind us, loud enough to wake the entire world. Eva and I both jolt in our seats. But we start moving, slow.
I replay hitching the trailer in my head. I’m pretty sure I got all the pieces together right. They all seemed to fit.
“Is that normal?” Eva asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. The trailer is still attached and follows as we creep up the driveway.
“I don’t know. Stop and let’s take a look.” Better to fix it now, than to lose the whole trailer.
“We can’t,” Eva says. “Fiona is in our house right now; she’s stalling two police officers. They’re looking for our parents.”
What the…? My eyes lock on the house. My shoulders tense. I search the windows for any signs of police or anyone else. No one’s visible. But they’re looking for our parents. And me. And we’re driving away in their car. Why had they left us like this? My breath comes faster and faster as we creep along the driveway, slowly. Way too slowly.
I can’t go to jail or foster care or whatever. Eva needs me, and we need to find our parents so they can fix all this. I lean over and press down on Eva’s knee, sending the gas pedal closer to the floor where it should be, needs to be. The motor roars and the tires spin in the icy driveway. They finally find purchase, and we jerk forwards, faster and faster.
Eva brushes my hand away and eases off the gas. “We need the car, Grace. So let’s not crash it, okay? Let’s get out of the neighborhood, then we can pull over and check the trailer.”
“Sorry.” I grumble and roll my eyes, but she’s probably right. I slide down in my seat as we pass the house—the dining room, then living room windows. Keeping my head low I peer inside. The police and Fiona are nowhere to be found. Maybe she was smart enough to lead the cops into the kitchen—the one room where you can’t see the driveway. I have to give her credit, for once. God, please don’t let her screw this up for us.
At the end of the driveway I sit back up and whimper. Over half a foot of snow has accumulated in the unplowed street. It’s hard enough to drive through snow without a trailer.
Eva’s shoulders tense, and she grips the wheel with both hands and pulls us—trailer and all—out into the quiet street, executing a wide turn that man
ages to avoid all the parked cars. Eva’s face is calm, yet at full attention. As if she’s willing herself to become one with the car. For a moment I see through her dark eyeliner and lipstick and matching black beanie. She’s still my little, bratty, annoying, and loveable sister.
Thank God I let her drive. I’m not sure I would have executed the turn that well with the massive trailer on back. We approach the stop sign at the end of our street. The intersection is empty, but she still slows to a stop. I clench my teeth, willing her to only slow down and not actually stop. But she’s not letting up.
“What are you doing?” I ask, reaching over and yanking her stupid leg off the brake. “Don’t stop. We’ll get stuck.” I shove her foot towards the gas pedal. Why the heck did I let her drive?!
“Stop doing that!” She grasps my shoulder to shove me back, but as I press her foot on the gas the tires spin on the icy road. She lets my shoulder go, finally realizing I’m right. Too late.
I glance in the side mirror to make sure the police car is still parked in front of our house. It is.
Eva steps on the gas again, and the tires spin once more. She groans and lets her head fall onto the wheel.
“I screwed up,” she says. “I’m sorry.” She’s blaming herself, when this is the first time either one of us has ever tried to drive with the trailer hitched up. She turns her head to the side; her eyes are pooling with tears. “It’s going to take a troop of elephants to pull us out of this, isn’t it?” I can’t stand to see Eva so weighed down with guilt.
She’s right, though. I cover my face with my hands and peer out through a crack between my fingers. What the hell are we doing? I’m a junior in high school. Eva’s only a sophomore. We’re not ready for this. Packing up all our belongings and racing across the country in search of what? The possibility that we might find someone who knows something about our parents? What even is the likelihood of us finding out anything? I’m not ready.
But what’s the alternative? Foster care? Learning what it means to be a demon while living in a stranger’s home, possibly separated from Eva, and never knowing what happened to our parents.