by Karen L Mead
The black-haired boy stood in front of the blackboard, where David had been standing just moments ago. He was wearing shiny black leather pants, black boots, and a T-shirt with a picture of a duck on it.
“Hi, my name is Devon Tremblay, and I’m attending Silver Crown Academy, starting today! So happy to meet you all.”
The boy gave a toothy grin. David felt an odd fear grip him, like he knew that something with the boy was desperately wrong, but he couldn’t explain what or why.
“Tremblay?” said the same girl who had questioned David’s transfer. She turned toward Cassie. “Is he, like, your cousin or something?”
David noticed that Mr. Golding was looking at Cassie with a pleading look, as though he was totally at a loss for what to do.
After a brief pause, Cassie sighed.
“Yeah, he’s my cousin, alright. My retarded cousin.”
Devon just grinned wider.
“You mean developmentally disabled,” the girl corrected, scandalized.
“No, I meant what I said.”
“Why don’t you go sit down, Devon,” said the teacher, clearly disconcerted. “We’re late starting class.”
The boy pouted.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who my favorite author is?”
“No.”
The class laughed uncomfortably, clearly confused. Devon sat down in the seat next to David and grinned at him. David looked away, trying to bury the feeling of dread in his gut.
“It’s Dante, by the way,” Devon whispered to him.
Mr. Golding began the lesson, something about Samuel Beckett and existentialism, but was clearly distracted. He kept looking over at where Devon was sitting, then forcing himself to look back at the board. After a few minutes, Devon began poking David in the arm to get his attention.
“Hey. Hey, Little Lord Fauntleroy.”
“What do you want?” David scowled. He kind of hoped he could manage a decent scowl, under the circumstances.
Devon was still grinning, but his eyes were cold.
“You think you’re a big shot, huh? Kissing her like that?”
All the kids turned around in their chairs to look at the pair of them. Devon’s voice had been just loud enough for the rest of the class to hear.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David stammered, dropping the other boy’s gaze.
“Oh, you don’t, do you? Well, let me just say this: you touch her again, I’ll rip out your guts and feed them to you. Assuming my dad doesn’t get to you first.”
“Stop it!” Cassie yelled, standing up and turning to face the back of the room. The other kids murmured questions, intrigued.
Mr. Golding looked from Cassie to the back of the room, then back again, his expression oscillating between terror and confusion.
“Er, it seems there’s something I need to, ah…something I need to attend to in my office. Class, read silently from page 45 in your blue packet,” he said, then scrambled out the door. David had no idea if he was going to get help, or if he really was just that terrified that all he could do was flee.
After the teacher had left, Devon snickered and began walking toward Cassie. The rest of the kids, who had been gossiping, suddenly quieted, watching the newcomer with interest. You could hear a pin drop in the classroom.
“Cassie,” said Devon softly. “How wonderful to see you again, my dear…cousin.”
“The feeling is not mutual,” she said, glaring at him. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Getting educated,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her. “But as long as I’m here, I should take advantage of this opportunity.” Then, he fell to one knee. Some of the students gasped.
David saw Miri look at him with a panicked expression, like she was wondering if he had any idea what was going on, who this kid was. David shook his head, letting her know that he was just as clueless as she was.
“Cassandra Tremblay: will you go to the prom with me?” Devon asked.
The room erupted in surprise, but Cassie didn’t appear to be thrown.
“First of all, it’s Junior Prom. And no. I don’t do incest.”
She looked down at his clothes.
“What’s with the duck on your shirt?”
“I like ducks. Is that a crime?”
“You’re weird.”
“Will you marry me?”
Cassie responded by kicking him in the chest, knocking him over onto his back. He rolled backwards, cackling. Obviously livid with anger, Cassie stomped out of the room; Miri followed behind her, confused. Mike Trepkowski followed after them, giving Devon a contemptuous look from above. After a pause, Devon let out another huge, bellowing laugh, stood up gracefully, then walked out of the classroom himself. After all of them were gone, the class exploded in conversation, as everyone tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Someone nudged David’s shoulder.
“Hey, New Kid. Do you know what’s up with Cassie’s psycho cousin?”
“I can honestly say I have no idea.”
Chapter 51
There were a lot of second-period announcements that morning.
“…the Debate Club is still looking for another volunteer for the June bake sale; anyone interested, talk to Ms. Kupperman in E Hall, Room 201. Students are welcome to attend the annual Mural Club Art Show this Saturday, May 28th, with their family and friends; the brass band will perform at 4 pm, the orchestra at 5 pm. That’s it for announcements today—”
There was some static, then the student’s voice continued.
“Um, actually, we have one more announcement. This song goes out to Cassie Tremblay from Devon, with the special message: Stop hurtin’ me, baby.”
The song “Tearin’ Up My Heart,” by the Backstreet Boys, began playing over the loudspeakers throughout the entire school. Outside, at the picnic table where Cassie’s group often sat, she put her head in her hands.
“I just wanted a few days of normal school before whatever crazy apocalypse stuff is gonna happen on Saturday. Was that really so much to ask? Was it?”
Mike tabbed between multiple browsers while he was talking.
“I have to admit, I did not expect the Devil to show up and start trying to annoy you to death. Not sure why that’s a thing.”
“It should not be a thing! He shouldn’t even exist yet!” Cassie said, pounding a fist on the table.
That comment made Mike raise an eyebrow.
What does she mean, “yet?”
“Did you meet him in Hell—I mean, in Realm?” said Jay.
Cassie narrowed her eyes at him.
“Of course I met him in hell, where else would I have met him?”
Mike’s interest was further piqued.
Curiouser and curiouser. Why does she sound so defensive about that?
The newcomer, David, looked at Mike’s fingers flying over his laptop keys.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping tabs on the cards. When Billingsly gets back, we should have ten of them. So, we’re 10 percent done collecting them.”
“Why are we bothering with that now?” the British teen said. He took a sip of his tea, then frowned, like drinking it had been a mistake.
Mike shot him a dark look.
“Hey, I almost died for this information, okay? We’re gonna make use of it.”
David looked embarrassed.
“That’s not what I meant. I was trying to say—”
“Why is the Devil so obsessed with you, anyway?” Miri asked Cassie, cutting off the boys’ conversation. “Not that you aren’t super-hot and everything, but it seems a little random.”
Cassie fiddled with her pen.
“He’s the Devil, who knows what he’s thinking?”
Mike smirked.
That’s a lie if I ever heard one.
“What?” said Cassie, glaring at Mike.
He flipped his laptop closed and crossed his arms in front of him.
“You’re actin
g like the Devil just dropped in out of nowhere and you don’t know anything about it, but it’s so obvious that’s not what really happened.”
“Because you know so much about him,” she said sarcastically.
“I know you know this guy better than you say you do,” Mike said.
“It’s true, we go way back. Or forward, more like,” said a voice behind Mike, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. Jay saw Devon approach them from behind and literally did jump off the bench.
The Devil grinned.
“Don’t you have class this period? Are you all cutting?”
“Yes, we’re delinquents,” said Cassie, glaring at him.
Any doubt that Mike had about a pre-existing connection between Cassie and Devon was erased by the venom in her look.
“What do you want?”
“I think I’ve been fairly straightforward about that.”
Abruptly, the Backstreet Boys song stopped playing over the loudspeaker. Instead, the opening beat of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” started up. Mike couldn’t help but snicker, and all his friends glared at him.
“What? It’s legitimately funny.”
“Don’t encourage him,” said Cassie.
Devon made a dismissive sound.
“Now you really sound like a mom.”
“Er, may I ask something?” said David, raising his hand.
Devon turned and fixed him with an incredulous expression.
“I’m not a teacher, you know.”
David lowered his arm.
“We all know what’s supposed to happen on Saturday,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whose side are you on? The Watchers, or ours?”
“Not here,” Cassie hissed.
Devon smiled at her, and snapped his fingers. Everything around them froze: teachers, students, even the traffic in the street fifty feet away.
“There, now no one can hear us. And to answer your question, Fancy Accent, it depends. If I’m going to fight on your side, what do I get out of it?”
“Oh, please,” said Miri. It was clear from her quivering posture that she was afraid of Devon, but she was speaking up anyway. “Are you honestly saying that you’ll help fight off the Rebel Angels only if Cassie puts out for you?”
Devon pretended to clutch at a string of pearls around his neck.
“Well, I never! What a crude way to put it. But yes, something like that.”
“I would literally rather let the entire world die,” Cassie said flatly.
Devon made a pained face.
“Ouch, that’s harsh. On the positive side, a shockingly appropriate use of the word ‘literally.’”
“Oh my God, he’s a Grammar Nazi,” Mike muttered under his breath.
Before Mike knew what had happened, Devon’s hand was around his throat and he was pinned to the table. He struggled for a moment, then realized it was pointless. The memory of being held down and fed from by vampires, still only a few days old, began replaying in his head.
“Let him go!” Mike heard Cassie yell, although all sound was somewhat muted for him right now. “He has nothing to do with this!”
“You find this all very amusing, don’t you?” said Devon, smiling. Then his smile faded, and Mike’s heart began fluttering in his chest, like a trapped bird trying to escape. “But get this straight, kid, this is all fun and games right now because I feel like it—because that’s how I have fun. But if you keep giving me attitude, I don’t need you and I have no problem with getting rid of you. So keep that in mind, Uncle Mike.”
Even in the grip of overpowering terror, there was a part of Mike’s analytical mind that never really shut down.
Uncle Mike? What the hell does he mean, Uncle Mike?
Suddenly, the grip on his neck eased and Mike took a huge, gasping breath of air. When he had calmed down enough to see what was going on, he saw that Sam was pinning Devon to the table the way he had been pinned just a second before.
“Cassie told me all about you,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “How nice of you to freeze everyone in place so they can’t see me murdering you.”
Devon managed to push Sam off him, then made an inhuman snarling noise that was loud enough to shake the table. Mike managed to avoid wetting his pants at the sound of it, but if he was honest, he would have to admit he came close.
All signs of Devon’s playful demeanor were gone.
“You could never kill me, you selfish bastard!” he screamed, glaring at Sam. His eyes glowed crimson as his disguise spell began to fail. “I surpassed you a long time ago!”
He pounced on Sam as though to rip his head off, then the two of them disappeared. In another moment, everything around them resumed moving.
Mike held onto the abused skin of his neck and panted, still catching his breath.
Was Sam…grinning before they disappeared? What was he doing?
“I think Sam just transported both of them into Realm,” Cassie said slowly, like she didn’t quite believe it.
Of all of them, Jay recovered the fastest.
“Isn’t Realm still booby-trapped for him?”
“I think that’s kind of the point.”
Chapter 52
When Sam materialized in Realm, a vine of some sort snaked around his neck and pulled him against a stone wall. The back of his head cracked painfully against the rock and for a moment he was very, very glad he was not human. Similar vines restrained his arms and legs, and it became increasingly difficult to move at all.
I was expecting more of a cage-drops-from-the-ceiling sort of thing, but I guess this will do.
The appendages seemed to have some kind of numbing quality, like they were doing damage to his nerves. It was no small consolation that, at least, Devon was similarly restrained.
Azrael appeared from the shadows, a sour expression on his face.
“This should be a happy moment, so why do I not trust it?” he asked no one in particular.
“You’d better lock him down before he gets away,” Sam said, struggling to talk while the vine wrapped more tightly around his neck. “I’m not dragging him back here again if you miss this opportunity!”
Devon’s response was a wordless growl. He’d given up any pretense of maintaining his human form and had manifested as a figure of dark, noxious smoke and tainted water. Unfortunately for him, the vines didn’t need him to have solid limbs to serve their function. Sam doubted that such a trap would hold him for long, but hopefully it would be enough.
Azrael pointed both hands at Devon and began chanting. Nearby, other Lords of Hell materialized, summoned by their leader’s thoughts. Dozens of them began working to restrain the Devil, with more appearing every moment.
As Devon screamed without a throat, Sam went limp in his restraints, satisfied that his job was accomplished. He was surprised when the vines holding him disintegrated suddenly, and nearly fell face-first on the damp floor before he caught himself.
They were in a dark cavern, the glow from many pairs of demonic eyes providing the only light. Sam hadn’t been aiming for a specific destination within Realm, which was probably for the best, because he had a feeling the trap targeted to his blood would have directed him to this cavern no matter what he’d done.
“I loathe you…and…your entire…accursed family line,” Azrael said, in between chants. His timing was impressive.
“Then why did you let me go?” Sam asked, dragging himself to his feet. Apparently, the trap had done more than just restrain him; he felt tired, like he’d just exercised for an hour. The vines had sapped his strength.
“So you can help seal him away. Take your idiot father’s place, since he’s not available.”
“Fair enough.”
Sealing away other demons was not on the list of magical tasks that he was familiar with, but it was easy enough to watch what everyone else was doing and copy it. He took his place next to Azrael and concentrated on burying Devon in enough wards that he would never be able to dig his way
out. He had a weird sense of déjà vu, and then realized it wasn’t his memory but Azazel’s: Azazel remembered sealing Devon away the first time.
More than once, the other demon hissed from somewhere deep within Sam’s consciousness.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, intent on his task. As usual, time was bizarre in Realm, and he couldn’t tell if he was caught up in the spell for minutes or months. Finally, he sensed Azrael relax next to him, and he dropped his focus. He nearly fell again, this time from exhaustion. Panting, he leaned over, hands on his thighs.
Azrael regarded him with a carefully blank expression. The demon was wearing some kind of toga-like garment, which made him look more regal than Sam was accustomed to. He waved a hand, and the other Lords began disappearing, their services no longer required.
“I suppose you want a pardon for your role in apprehending the Devil once again,” he said, sounding annoyed.
In his tired condition, Sam could barely manage a shrug.
“You said it, not me.”
“Of course, it’s your fault that he even exists in the first place, or so I’ve recently discovered,” Azrael continued. “I should have you gelded.”
“Wouldn’t help. He’s from another timeline…he’ll remain here, regardless of what happens to me. He won’t wink out of existence, even if he’s never born.”
“Which means I could kill you and not do significant damage to the timeline,” Azrael said thoughtfully.
Sam gathered his remaining strength and stood up straight.
“Yes, you could. But that would be a dumb idea, since we have an angelic invasion in about four days, and we shouldn’t be wasting resources fighting each other.”
No response.
“So you already know about it.”
“Your witch was quite forthcoming on the subject.” He sniffed and changed position. “Of course, she’s not really a witch. She’s a Watcher, of the oceanborn variety…descendant of Zaquiel, I believe. How did you ever think she was human? Are you blind as a bat?”
“I take insults to bats personally. And you’re dodging the subject. Are we going to work together or not?”
The demon lord pursed his lips.