by Eliza Nolan
I run through the list. I don’t fight—Eva’s the fighter, not me. I’ll stay away from rituals until I know how to control myself. Maybe I won’t ever have to feel those pointy things on my cranium ever again. Yoga must help with that, too.
“Okay,” Eva says, “but seriously, how did you find us?”
“I was told where to look. I had insider information.”
“From whom?” I ask.
“The only demon who knew your location before you were cloaked. The same one who’s been watching both of you your whole lives. The one who made the bargain with your parents all those years ago.”
Inanna.
I lean forward. This guy’s with her? Instantly my blood begins to boil. She’s the whole reason we’re in this mess.
A loud bang echoes from the back of the kitchen. Like someone’s shooting off fireworks inside.
I duck my head instinctively, and several of the diner customers squeal.
Eva and Ashton spring out of the booth, Eva’s fists at the ready as she scans the restaurant.
Ashton peers through the food window into the kitchen. “I’m going to check that out. You two wait here.”
If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay gone. I can’t believe Ashton, the one person—demon—who is able to help me make any sense of this is working with Inanna. More betrayal. I’m so sick of this. I cut the last piece of pancake in half and shove another bite in my mouth. I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.
11
Eva
Several of the other diners have gotten up from their tables and watch the kitchen nervously.
Grace takes another bite and looks up at me, blinking.
“Time to go,” I whisper.
“What?” Grace says mid-bite.
The sheer calm in her voice makes me want to pull my hair out. How can she not see the desperate situation we’re in?
“Now’s our chance to lose this creep.” I gesture towards the kitchen. There’s another bang. “Inanna sent him. He’s the enemy. And we don’t know enough yet. We don’t know what you can do, or what he can do. We don’t know how the demon world works. We need to run!”
“But…” Her brow wrinkles. She scoops up her last bite of pancake and crams it in her mouth, and then chases it with the last bit of coffee. “Fine.”
There’s another pop in the back of the kitchen, and then smoke spills out from the order pickup window.
“Everybody, out!” Francis shouts over the blaring fire alarm.
We’re the first ones to the door, nearly tripping on an old guy on his way in.
“Sorry,” I say.
He grabs the brim of his fedora and nods. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a kitchen fire or something,” I answer. I grip Grace’s hand and start towards the car, but he continues.
“Oh dear.” I follow his eyes across the street to the town’s fire station. “There was a fire down the road at the old rest stop. They’re off putting that out.”
Grace grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. She faces the man. “The rest stop five miles back?”
I give her my why-are-we-stopping-to-chit-chat-when-there’s-a-demon-after-us look, but she ignores it, her eyes locked on the old man.
The guy blinks. “Yes, that’s the one. We’ve only one rest stop within fifty miles of us.”
“Thanks.” Grace hooks her arm around mine and aims us towards the car, mumbling. “This cannot be a coincidence.”
“What?” I ask as we cross the street to the parking lot.
She slips her new phone out of her coat pocket and searches the news, while I fumble through my own pockets to find the car keys.
“It’s not online yet,” she says. “But it has to be.”
“What?” I say, louder. Exasperated.
“Don’t you see? The serial arsonist was in town with us back home, and then we left home. Ashton followed us from home. He found us at the rest stop, where there was also a fire. Then we took him to this diner, where there is now, yet another fire.”
I stop looking for my keys as it clicks. She could be right. I knew we should have left Ashton at the rest stop. I glare at her.
“So,” I say. “After all the crap you gave me about not picking up hitchhikers because they could be the serial arsonist, we actually did pick up the serial arsonist? Ha!”
“Yes, exactly. Ha!” she says, triumphantly, as we jog to the car and trailer.
“No. You don’t get to ‘Ha!’” I say. “This is my ‘Ha!’” I jab my pointy finger into her arm. “You were the one telling me what people we should and shouldn’t trust. You’re the one who insisted on picking up Ashton. And it turns out he’s a demon who’s been following us the entire time, and an arsonist.”
“See?” she says. “It proves my point. We shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers.”
This is so Grace, twisting everything around so she’s right.
I huff out a breath. “No, it proves that you are a bad judge of character.” I dart away, around the car to the driver’s side, so I can have the last word. Finally I find my keys and pop the locks on the car.
We both hop in. I put the key in the ignition, but jump when the back door is thrown open. Standing framed in the doorway is a tall guy with jet-black eyes and spiky black horns jutting out of his sloppy, slept-on, sandy-blond hair.
“The hell?” Grace squeaks.
His glasses are gone, but I recognize his average ears and stubbled chin as well as his ripped and bloody green tee-shirt that says “Worlds Okayest Mom.” His arms are bleeding from several slashes that look like knife wounds. There’s no mistaking his wiry frame.
“Ashton.” My voice comes out calmer than I feel. My hand shakes as I race to turn the key before he can climb in. Because we still need to ditch him. He’s with Inanna. And now he looks like the devil that was just in a fist fight with Satan. I do not want this terrifying thing in the car with me.
Next to me, Grace’s mouth hangs open as she stares at Ashton’s new form.
“That was interesting.” He slides into the back seat just as the engine roars to life.
Damn it. I stifle a whimper and glance at Grace. She’s still gawking at him, but her forehead wrinkles. She’s shocked, but also puzzling over something.
“I don’t know how that fire demon found you two,” Ashton continues casually, as if he’s not bleeding all over our back seat and wearing the soulless eyes of a demon, “but I managed to knock her out. We should have enough time to get out of here before she wakes up—if we hurry. I recommend we take back roads. Otherwise she’ll just find us again.”
Neither Grace nor I move.
“What?” he says.
Grace points at the top of her own head. “H-horns,” she manages.
He laughs. “As if you haven’t seen this before. Now, come on, let’s get out of here.” He digs out his phone. “There’s an old two-laned highway if you follow Main Street through town.”
I want to tell him to get the hell out of the car. I want to tell him we gave him time to say his thing, that we’ve made our choice and he’s out, but I’m frozen with terror. I cannot find an ounce of my normal barks-orders and takes-no-prisoners self. I face front, exchanging a worried look with Grace. But we already missed our chance. If we tell him to get out now, he could go all demon and cremate our asses. So we need to play it cool, make him think we’re all on the same team. Maybe we’ll get another chance to ditch him farther down the road.
God, I hope so.
12
Eva
I keep one eye on the road and the other on the rearview mirror as we drive out of town and onto the old two-lane highway. I try to remain calm, but I’m shaking inside and out. I don’t know if my Krav Maga fight training works against demons.
Ashton sits back. His horns retract with a hushed sucking sound, and he blinks his eyes back to their less-terrifying, human blue. He digs in his backpack. “I lost my favorite pair of glasses and ruined a good shi
rt.” He locates a new set of glasses, nearly the same as the last, and slips them on. They lean to one side, exactly like the last pair. He looks almost like the same Ashton we picked up at the rest stop this morning. His wounds are even healing before my eyes. The gashes on his skin grow together and seal, leaving no mark of where the wound once was. Downright creepy.
His eyes find mine in the rearview mirror and he rolls them. “Stop staring.”
I force a smile. I don’t want him to know that he terrifies me. Is it even possible to hide emotions from a demon?
In her seat, Grace isn’t gaping at Ashton anymore. Still twisted to face him she squints at him. She’s not scared anymore; she almost looks annoyed. “I don’t get it. Why should we trust you if you’re working with Inanna?”
Ashton scoots up in his seat. “Because I’m working with your creator. Don’t you think she would want to keep her creation safe?”
“Or—” Grace glares back at him, crossing her arms “—she could want to keep tabs on me. Make sure I don’t do anything she wouldn’t like.” Her voice is icy cold. She is pissed.
“I saved you back there,” Ashton growls. “I ruined my favorite glasses.”
I try to keep my eyes glued to the road, but it’s difficult when two demons are having a shouting match next to you and you think they might blow up the car out of anger or something, and then you might die. I slow the car down to compensate. There’s almost no traffic on the road, except a yellow school bus that speeds up and passes us.
Grace’s face is beet red and she’s shaking. “Your favorite glasses?”
Ashton nods.
“Your favorite glasses,” she yells. Her fingers lock on the back of her seat and she shoves her face right up to his. “I’m so terribly sorry about your precious glasses. You’ll forgive me if I seem upset. Your boss turned me into a monster and took our parents! She’s either killed them, or is torturing them perpetually in some hell. But I’m sorry about your stinking glasses!” Grace spits the last words, inches from his face.
I turn back to the road just in time to slam on the brakes. An overturned school bus and jackknifed semi lay directly in our path.
Our tires squeal, and the wheel tugs as the trailer jerks to one side. I ease off the brakes and steer us onto the gravel shoulder, and I press on the brakes again as we approach the crash. The school bus is on its side with a dented, steaming semi rig on the far side of the road—its trailer is in the ditch.
“Keep going!” Ashton orders. He grips my shoulder, and I cringe. “It’s the fire demon, keep going. This is a trap.”
I continue to brake, because not only am I not taking orders from Mr. Serial-Arsonist Demon, but there is literally nowhere to keep going unless we plow straight through the school bus or take the SUV and camper off-roading into the drainage ditch. Plus, it’s a school bus! And it isn’t empty. Little kids, maybe five- to ten-year-olds, crawl out the side windows or climb out the back door, some dazed, others crying. We have to stop and help. It’s not even a question.
“Go go go,” Ashton whispers as we come to a complete stop. “Why are you stopping?” He falls back against the seat, defeated.
I slip the keys from the ignition and shove them safely into my pocket, then throw open the door and run to the overturned bus. Grace’s door slams; she’s right behind me.
“Is it smart leaving him in the car with our stuff?” she asks.
I glance over my shoulder at her. “Save lives first, worry about serial-arsonist demon after.”
“Right.”
“We start with the school bus, then check on the truck.”
“You go to the back, I’ll see if I can get in the front,” Grace says, and we split.
I circle around the back where several kids huddle on the side of the road.
“Are you all okay?” I ask.
Several of them are crying, but one, a girl who looks a little taller, nods. She has her arm around one of the smaller ones.
“Stay back.” I say. “I’m going in to check on your other friends.”
I run back to the bus and as I’m about to climb inside I notice a young woman in a long, black skirt, curled up in a ball, hugging her trembling knees. Her hair, long red spiral curls, is pulled up in pigtails. She’s crying. But she senses me and looks up.
She’s the hitchhiker we left on the entrance to the freeway yesterday.
What are the chances?
Dark lines of mascara smear across her face. “It’s all my fault,” she whimpers. “I did this.”
“This?” I say. “But you’re just hitchhiking, right?”
“Well…” She stops crying, and her face falls cold. “Actually, Eva.” She rises to her feet. Still small in stature, she somehow owns the space, making her feel massive. Dangerous.
I step back. How the hell does she know my name?
“How else was I going to get you and your sister’s attention?” The woman blinks, and when her eyes open again, they’re the vibrant orange of fire.
“The hell?” I scramble back into a defensive stance, waiting for my Krav Maga training to kick in—first strike should be mine—but her eyes have me frozen. The unnatural orbs lock on me. My feet won’t move; I’ve forgotten how to work them.
Footsteps rush up behind me. “You help the kids,” Ashton says. “I’ll take care of her.”
His words wrestle me out of my trance, and I turn and flee to the back of the bus, glancing back as I go. The woman and Ashton square off.
Cries and sobs grow louder as I approach the emergency exit at the back. The door hangs open and inside two kids hug each other next to the top of their seats on what used to be the side windows, amongst a sea of abandoned backpacks covered in broken glass. I coax them to the exit and help them climb over the backdoor frame. Then I crawl inside in search of more children. I step on a backpack and it slides under my foot, glass crunching below. I catch myself by gripping the back of the seats, and toe debris out of my way before taking the next step, and then the next.
Up at the front of the bus Grace has already maneuvered in through the windshield and ushers a group of kids out the same way.
I clamber around the seats and through more scattered backpacks to a small boy who clutches his leg, crying. I crouch next to him and place a hand gently on his little shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, because that’s what I’m supposed to say. But I remember learning somewhere that you shouldn’t move injured people. “I’m sure the paramedics will be here soon and—”
A loud crash rocks the bus, and the roof crinkles down, towards us, as if someone threw a boulder at the bus.
The boy stops crying for a moment and scurries back, away from the new threat.
I climb up the side of a seat to a window and peak my head out, expecting to find a new car crashed into the bus—but it’s not a car. Ashton sits on the ground next to the new dent, struggling back to his feet. Across from him, the fire demon spots me. She picks up a stray hubcap from the ground and flings it straight at my head.
I drop back inside the bus just as the hubcap shoots over. I land on my butt with a jolt, my heart pounding. This is too much. My instinct is to cower in a corner, but I force myself back to my feet. I need to help the kids.
I survey the rest of the bus. Two kids lie near the middle. I don’t care if we aren’t supposed to move injured people; we can’t leave anyone in here with a demon war going on outside.
“Can you walk?” I ask the kid who’s still hugging his leg and sniffling.
He pulls himself up using the seat back next to him, and winces as he tries to put pressure on his injured leg, crying out.
It could be broken.
I kneel. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”
“Kaiden,” he weeps.
“Okay, Kaiden, I’m going to need you to help me help you. Together, we can get you out of here, okay?”
He nods, tears dripping off his tiny chin.
“I’m going to giv
e you a piggyback ride.” I squat, and he nods and reluctantly wraps his arms around my neck. I hoist him up and head towards the back exit, stumbling over the jackets and lunch boxes left behind.
We’re two seats away from the exit when there’s another crunch, and the bus top crinkles inward, closer to the two kids left unconscious in the middle of the bus. The dent doesn’t reach them, but the next time the bus takes a hit, it could pin one of them inside.
I don’t waste time checking what hit the bus this time, moving double time hopping over the side of the exit. I jog to the side of the road with Kaiden slung on my back.
The ground vibrates and I glance over my shoulder.
A fireball shoots up into the sky.
I scramble away even faster, wondering if there’s any chance in hell we’ll get out of this with our lives.
13
Eva
I set Kaiden down on the side of the road next to the other kids and race back again. Just two kids left in there. Unfortunately, they’re both in the middle of the bus and unconscious—or worse.
I hardly have a moment to wonder why I’m running towards a demon fight when a massive explosion erupts, followed by a rush of hot air that throws me back on my butt. I shield my face with my arms against the burning heat.
A piece of flying debris slices through one of my sleeves, sending pain up arm. My jeans are scorching hot, and I scramble back from the blast. I’m in such a hurry to get away from the flames that it’s not until I’m a safe distance away that I realize it was the school bus that blew up, and is now on fire.
“Grace!” I shout, but I can’t hear anything. I tug at my ears, but it doesn’t help. The blast must have screwed with my hearing. If hearing damage is all that happens to me, I’m one of the lucky ones. There are still two kids in the flaming bus, and I can’t see Grace anywhere.
“Grace!” My vocal cords strain but I continue to scream her name.
If she answers, I can’t hear it. I circle around to the side of the bus, giving it a wide berth. The windows have all blown out, sending shards of glass everywhere. Flames shoot out the windows, high above the wreckage. In front of the fire, two figures struggle, fighting right next to the flames. It’s the fire demon and Ashton. Ashton has her in some sort of hold, but she rakes her claws across his back, and he cries out, releasing her. They square off again. People from the few cars that have stopped are focusing on the kids, but occasionally one will glance over at the fighting pair, fear painting their expression. What must they think?