“Where is Aruba?” I asked.
“The Caribbean,” Jackson replied. “How cool is that? Envision white sandy beaches, blue water, coral reefs, palm trees, and those drinks served in coconut shells with little umbrellas and slices of fruit. Let’s stay at a resort with a swim up bar. I’ve always wanted to wade up to a bartender in my swim trunks.”
“That doesn’t sound weird in the slightest.”
“It’s all the rage in the tropics.”
“When is the final?” I asked, doing my best to drag myself out of my stupor.
“In about half an hour.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Scarlett, it’s weird. I’m playing the best I’ve ever played in my entire life. It’s like someone flipped a switch inside me and I’ve got superpowers or something.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “My reflexes are so on point today.” He kissed both of his trigger fingers. “Papa needs a sponsorship and money to fix the damp problem in his flat.”
“Stuff the dump,” I said with a laugh. “If you win, you’ll be able to buy a mansion.”
“No, mansions aren’t my style. Though I’d buy a better place, for sure. You’d have to come live with me, of course.”
I made a face. “With all the hot chicks you’ll have dangling off your arm? I’ll be fine.”
“Scarlett…” His expression suddenly became serious. “You know, I wanted to—” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he clucked his tongue. Taking it out, he glanced at the message. “It’s time.”
Smiling, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “Good luck. You’re going to kick his Zero whatever arse.”
“Remorse.”
“Like I said, whatever. He’ll definitely be a zero once you’re done with him!” I pulled back and stuck out my tongue. “And I’m good for Aruba anytime.”
“I’ll pencil you in.”
“Is there someplace I can watch?” I craned my neck, looking out over the organised chaos.
“Down the front.” Jackson pointed towards the main stage. “There’s some seating and they show the match on the big screen, too.”
“Cool.” I followed his finger and got the gist of it. “Now go and crush him.”
Jackson melted into the crowd and I picked my way through the heaving mass of gamer geeks towards the front of the arena. Finding a seat, I glanced up at the stage as the final round began.
I could see Jackson up there, controller in his hands and a headset on his head. The other guy, Zero Remorse, was next to him. Turning my attention upward, I watched as whatever was appearing on their screens was beamed up for the entire O2 to see.
I tried to follow what was happening, but I knew next to nothing about video games. This was Jackson’s domain. He’d tried to teach me how to play Call of Duty once, but I kept dying in the tutorial mission. Apparently, it was the easiest part of the game to beat, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. After my tenth gamer death, he confiscated the controller and banned me for life. It was a little dramatic, but after all, this was his calling.
Chaos erupted in the arena and I glanced around, not sure what was happening.
“Did you see that?” some guy said next to me, tugging on the arm of his buddy’s shirt. “He slammed Zero Remorse so hard!”
“Wait.” I turned to face him, looking for some kind of clarification my puny mind could understand. “Who won? Jackson?”
The guy blinked at me, like he was surprised I’d be talking to him. “Yeah,” he said after a second of stunned silence, “by like a million miles.”
I jumped out of my seat, my heart galloping faster than a racehorse on race day. I darted blindly through the arena, looking for the side of the stage. Jackson won! He won!
Spotting his curly hair as he climbed down off the stage, I pushed past a startled security guard and threw my arms around Jackson’s neck.
“You won!” I shrieked, forcing him to jump up and down. “You won! You slammed him so hard!”
He pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. “You bet I slammed him!”
“I had no idea what was happening, but you won!” I screamed and jumped up and down again.
“Scarlett, it was incredible. I mean, everything was so sharp. I was one step ahead of him the entire match. It was like I could see what he was going to do before did it.” An official tapped him on the shoulder and nodded towards the stage. “Uh, I guess I’ve got to go accept my obscenely large check.”
“Go,” I said, pushing him towards the stage, “I’ll wait for you. Then we’ll celebrate.”
I hung in the wings as Jackson gave his speech and accepted his prize. I had the jitters as he gave some interviews, hardly believing my best friend’s dreams had just come true. It was a whirlwind, and I stood amongst it all, watching as he lapped it all up.
Good, I thought. He deserves this. He’s worked so hard to get here.
By the time we left the O2, it was almost midnight and the lights twinkled against the night sky.
“I feel like a million quid!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.
I laughed, his excitement was so infectious that his euphoria spread to me. “Aruba, here we come!”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, tugging me towards the tube station. “If I don’t go home now, I’ll be tempted to party until the sun comes up and I’ll be broke from buying everyone rounds of drinks.”
“You just won a bazillion dollars and you want to ride the tube home?” I asked, making a face. “Are you sure you don’t want to splurge on a taxi?”
“I might be loaded now, but I still know how much things are worth,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Once a tight ass, always a tight ass?”
“Something like that.”
We laughed all the way down to the platform, throwing ideas around about all the insane things Jackson could buy. A giant in-ground ball pit, a suit of armour, a shack on a desert island, an atoll in the Pacific Ocean, a yacht with the name ‘Zero Remorse’, a diamond-encrusted toothbrush, a legit castle, or a million pounds worth of Bitcoin.
For the first time in two weeks, I forgot about the demon scourge shadowing my every step and the way the Naturals had turfed me out of their secret headquarters. My anger and resentment had dissolved, and here I was with my best friend—the best of the best, with the purest heart—just happy for his success. My life was as basic as they came, and I thought of all the people who’d be jealous of Jackson’s win and curled my nose.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, nudging me with his shoulder.
“I’m just thinking about all the people who’ll come out of the woodwork now that you’re loaded.”
“Yeah, I thought about that, too.” He stared across the tube carriage at our reflections in the opposite window. “I’m not just going to blow it. It’s tempting, but I don’t want to be the guy who was on top, then winds up having to get a desk job to pay the rent in twelve months’ time.”
“You’re so responsible,” I said with a smile.
“It’s one of my more endearing qualities. Besides, a million quid doesn’t go far these days. Inflation is killer.”
We had to switch lines, then get off at Kings Cross because of weekend track works on the Northern Line, so we worked our way through the maze of tunnels and escalators. It was such a warren, it’d take us at least five minutes to get out of the place. Then we had to brave the bus to Kentish Town.
I attempted to stare past the wave of people walking the opposite direction, not daring to make eye contact with anyone. We strode along with the flow of foot traffic, turning into the concourse, and following the ‘way out’ signs. Bodies were going in all directions, darting through openings, and squeezing into tunnels and escalators.
I was jostled and a shoulder brushed against mine. My reflexes kicked in and I turned towards the man who’d ran into me and my expression fell. His eyes shone entirely white and a lazy smile spread across his lips. Demon. As abr
uptly as I’d seen him, the man disappeared into the heaving mass of commuters.
I stumbled and bashed against Jackson. He caught me with a startled look on his face.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He craned his neck, trying to see what’d shaken me up. “Old boyfriend?”
My heart was slapping hard against the inside of my chest cavity. “Huh?”
“That guy who was smiling at you,” he replied. “Because if that’s your reaction to a guy flirting with you, you’re in real trouble.”
“Oh, very funny, wise guy.” I threaded my arm through his and began to walk, stretching out my stride. I wasn’t running, but it wouldn’t take much to spook me and force me into full panic mode.
“Slow down,” Jackson complained.
“I just want to get out of here.” I glanced over my shoulder, but the tunnel was eerily empty behind us. “I’m creeped out for some reason,” I added lamely.
“Ghosts aren’t real, Scarlett. I know you love watching those TV shows about hauntings and stuff, but there’s no scientific evidence to support the heebie jeebies.”
“Just because science can’t explain it yet, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” I argued, feeling a dramatic pout form on my lips as we got on the escalator to the surface. “People used to think the Earth was flat until someone sailed around it.”
“Some people still think it’s flat.”
“Do you want me to make you a tinfoil hat?”
“Millionaires don’t wear tinfoil,” he shot back with a cheeky smirk.
I rolled my eyes and glanced back at him on the escalator. My eye caught on a man standing a dozen steps behind us, and instantly, I felt my blood chill. This guy was different. He was about our age, clean-cut, a young professional type, but there was something off about him. His eyes were normal, but I wasn’t sure I could trust that nothing was lurking inside him.
He sensed me staring and glanced up, smiling when he caught my eye. I tensed, and quickly glanced away, my heartbeat speeding up once more. I’d had my fair share of adrenalin hits already today, so I dragged Jackson off the end of the escalator, powering towards the barriers, with my Oyster card in hand.
“What’s the rush?” Jackson asked. “Claustrophobic?”
“Something like that.” The sooner we were back in the flat, the safer I’d feel.
I slapped my Oyster card against the reader and the gate squealed open as Jackson did the same at the next barrier. Darting through, I kept my head down as we took the last set of stairs, emerging onto the courtyard outside the station. Thousands of people bustled back and forth, heading towards the intercity trains, or back into the tube, or to the long line of bus stops on Euston Road.
I began to fret, cursing Transport for London for scheduling track works on the Northern line. I would’ve much preferred to take the tube home than a bus.
We nestled amongst the commuters waiting by the side of the road, watching for the red double-decker with the bright yellow number 214. I fidgeted, glancing around. Maybe we’d lost it back in the tube station.
“You can’t escape us, Scarlett,” a voice hissed in my ear.
I spun around, panic flaring as I stared into a pair of eyes, the irises completely obliterated. The man smirked, his face unfamiliar to me. The demon from the tunnel had jumped bodies!
Turning, I gasped as I saw a lady three steps away from us turn and smile, her eyes completely white. I tugged Jackson back the other way and yelped as a middle-aged man stared back at us with milky eyes. Was there more than one?
This wasn’t harassment… not anymore. This was something much more sinister. We had to get out of the crowd.
“Scarlett, what’s going on?” Jackson asked, forcing me to stop.
“Listen to me,” I hissed, keeping my voice low. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
“Uh, you’re kind of scaring me…” he trailed off, the concern in his expression more infuriating than anything.
He thought I was tripping out, hallucinating, having a mental break, losing the plot. Any of those were apt descriptions, but the problem was, it was all real. It was a tinfoil hat free zone and a demon was body jumping to keep up with me. Allegedly. Who knew why, but I wasn’t about to let it hurt us.
“Someone’s following us,” I said. “Please just… follow me.”
“Following us? Like they want to rob us?” He glanced around. “Then we have to go back into the station and find the police.”
“No! We can’t go back in there. We have to get away from the crowds…”
“That’s the complete opposite of what we should do, Scarlett.” He looked around again and shrugged. “I don’t see anyone. Are you sure you’re not…” Awkward.
“Please, Jackson,” I practically begged, “just this once, humour me.”
Reluctantly, he nodded, tensing when I threaded my arm through his.
We crossed the street, weaving through the mass of pedestrians. Why were there so many people out after midnight on a weeknight? London was always bustling, and usually that was an exciting thing, but not tonight. Tonight, it was a pain in both my arse cheeks.
We passed the ornate gothic façade of St. Pancras station, turning off Euston Road, heading north towards Camden. The air felt like it’d dropped a few degrees as we walked, our breath vaporising in white plumes. Jackson brooded next to me, his win at the O2 forgotten.
Abruptly, a shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and cut us off. Jackson squeaked as we skidded to a halt.
“You can’t run,” the man said, his voice rasping like it was disembodied. “We’ll always find you.”
Turning, we legged it down a side street, weaving past a few startled pedestrians.
“Scarlett!” Jackson cried, his breathing ragged. “What the hell was that? Did you see his eyes?”
“Don’t look back,” I said as we turned down another street. This time it was devoid of life, so the only person we had to worry about was the current body the demon had possessed. If we could lose it, we had a shot at getting home in one piece.
“Do you think he was on that zombie drug?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked irritably, my gaze raking all the dark nooks and crannies as we powered down the street.
“It’s a drug that people get high on like E, but some people had a bad reaction to it and it turned them into living zombies,” he said, hardly slowing down for a breath. “They go mental—biting, scratching… they’re completely rabid.”
“It’s not a drug,” I shouted, storming towards the next crossroads. “We need to get home. If we get home, we’ll be okay.”
“Wait!” His footsteps pounded on the footpath as he caught up to me.
Before he could say anything else, a figure stepped out of the darkness ahead of us.
“Is that…” Jackson trailed off as we stared at the man’s unnatural posture.
He was all twisted. His head lolled to the side, his shoulders were hunched forward, and his arms hung limply. It felt like the demon possessing him didn’t know how to work a human body or maybe it didn’t have ultimate control over its host. Either way, it was a demon and we were screwed.
I didn’t have an arondight blade or a fancy dagger to stab it with. I had no clue how to perform an exorcism or use my Light. It wasn’t like I could dial the emergency services and ask them to dispatch a squadron of Naturals. I didn’t even know Wilder’s number—not that he’d come anyway. There was no cavalry. We were it.
“If we’re about to die, then you should tell me what’s going in as few words as possible,” Jackson declared, his entire body trembling. “I’m six-foot, but I’m weedy as hell. I’ve got no muscle mass and I’ve never hit anyone in my life. Not even the kid who bullied me in high school. Worst I did to him was superglue his locker shut. Of all the people to be trapped in a life or death situation with, you had to get stuck with the coward who’s only a hero in video games.”
“This isn’t the tim
e for an existential crisis, Jackson,” I said, edging in front of him. “He’s possessed with a demon that’s been following us since I brushed past it on the tube.”
“A demon?”
“An Infernal. Or at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”
The man tilted his head to the side, regarding us with a smug expression. He knew he had us. The only way out now was to fight, and we had nothing going for us. I knew I said my life was basic, but I wasn’t ready to give it up just yet, and I was especially not going to let another Infernal jump into Jackson’s body.
“Scarlett,” Jackson said, his voice wavering, “what do we do?”
There was only one thing I could do, and it was a long shot at best. I had to try and tap into my Light. Ramona had said it was in there, theoretically blocked by my meds, but I’d been off them for weeks now. There was no other option left but to try.
“Stand behind me.” With my heart pounding, I stepped towards the demon. I didn’t feel any different, so how could I be sure my Light was still inside me?
“Scarlett!” Jackson exclaimed. “Don’t.”
I raised my hand and his voice cut off. Focusing on the demon, it grinned, its tongue darting out and wetting its lips. Oh man, the poor guy it was hitching a ride in. How the hell did I fight it without hurting him?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, reaching inside myself. “It’s us or you.”
I searched desperately for my Light, my anxiety threatening to overwhelm my senses. The demon took a step towards me, its eyes shining eerily in the glow from the orange streetlights overhead. Raising my hands, I prayed for a miracle, but nothing happened.
The Infernal laughed, and then lunged, tearing towards me with unearthly speed. A scream tore from my throat as we collided, the force sending us rolling past Jackson across the footpath. I cried out as I smashed into a red mailbox, pain burning through my side.
“Let her go!” Jackson shouted, fisting his hands into the demon’s jacket.
It wailed, throwing my best friend aside like he was nothing but a rag doll. Jackson hit the ground with an oomph and blinked, dazed by the force of the blow.
Forcing myself to my feet, I launched myself at the creature with a desperate cry. Grasping its face, I roared, a rush of power exploding into life inside me. A surge of electricity flowed through my arms and into my hands. The demon wailed, the space around my fingers glowed purple with little bursts of lightning crackling in the air around us. It let me go, tearing away from my grasp, and fell. It crawled across the footpath with its skin steaming, handprints glowing purple on each cheek.
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