Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) (4 page)

“Yeah,” I replied and took an extra moment to marvel at the deep green blue shade of his irises. 

“How about you, Miss Pope?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not really the studious type. That was more my brother’s thing. I kind of just followed his lead.”

“Let’s make a deal then. We’ll consider it extra credit. This way you’ll feel comfortable staying on through the AP course for the rest of the year. How does that sound?”

I caught my lower lip between my teeth. My eyes wandered back to the spot where the darkness had held on to the wall. I couldn’t tell if it was still there, the open door was blocking my view. 

“I can help you with that problem of yours as well.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Those pesky bogies that have been hanging about.” He waved both hands in the air. “We must do something about them.” Back at his desk, he opened his attaché, pulled out a worn hardcover book. “Let me show you something.”

I moved closer to the desk. The book felt like it had its own gravitational pull.

“You see this symbol?” He pointed to the gold embossed circle on the cover of the book. It was adorned with a medallion created by a series of circles and lines but other than that, the gray leather was blank. 

“Looks fancy,” I said.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that word used to describe this book.”

“So what is it then?” I asked.

“Meet me for the book club tomorrow afternoon and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what my schedule is going to be like.”

“Listen, Gemma.” It was the first time he had called me by my first name. I watched as the next words rolled off his tongue and onto his full smooth lips. I definitely needed to get my head straight and ignore the unnatural amount of new hotness that had moved into the neighborhood. “I want you to start living and doing. If it doesn’t work out, that’s fine, but you ought to give yourself another chance.”

“How did you…?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. And I saw you run out of the memorial ceremony this morning. You come tomorrow to English class and afterwards I’ll show you how to put things right.”

“Sure. Tomorrow.” 

“That’s the spirit.” The look of approval on his face was worth whatever torture I would be subjected to listening to long-winded lectures for an hour a day in Allison’s presence.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“What are they? Or what is it? The black smoke.” 

“Oh well, that’s easy, luv. It’s all in here.” He tapped the book. “But you’ll have to be here tomorrow to get your answer.” And without any further explanation, Mr. Flynn, his book, and all sense of reality left the building.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

The next two hours were spent shelving books at the public library, where I went to great lengths to avoid the two spirits flanking either side of the information desk. 

“Are you alright, Gemma?”

“That seems to be the question of the day.” I laughed.

Seeing the confusion on Ms. Halle’s face, I rephrased my answer. “Thanks. Just peachy. Beats sitting at home alone,” I said to the librarian. I pulled the trolley of reference books out from behind her desk and got into the elevator.

 The fluorescent bulbs on the second floor flickered overhead, the artificial light reflecting against the metallic shelving units. I went from aisle to aisle, reorganizing books that had been pulled out of place as well as the ones from my cart. 

Starting at the left most wall, I began by rearranging the biographies and then wove my way through the stacks, oblivious to my surroundings and enjoying the quiet repetition of the job. 

When I was down to my last book, I got on my tiptoes and reached for the upper shelf, making room for Volume 9 of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Who even uses these anymore?
I stretched my arms as far as they could reach and tilted the book forward into its spot.

Out of nowhere, a pair of hands grabbed me by the waist and pulled. I screamed and then rammed my elbow into the body behind me, sending us both flailing to the ground. 

“Ow, what gives? It’s just me.”

I lifted my head up off the wall of steel pecs beneath me and looked back to find Ian in a fit of laughter. He flashed me his killer smile and let his hands wander up the side of my body. I rolled off him and jumped to my feet, ignoring the hotness sprawled before me on the floor and went on to adjust the hem of my shirt, trying to hide the flush on my face as best as I could. 

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“I could ask you the same.” His voice casual, the smile still on his face. 

“That’s not an answer.” I leaned on the trolley, pushed off  and made my way down the narrow corridor until I was back at the elevator. I pressed my index finger on the down button again and again, knowing full well that it wasn’t getting here any sooner, no matter how hard I willed it. The building hadn’t been renovated since the sixties and that meant the lift that serviced the two-level drab structure moved at a snail’s pace. Ian was soon by my side.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

My expression hardened. “Listen,” I started, “I’m really busy now. If you need any help, Ms. Halle’s downstairs.” 

When the steel door opened, I stepped right in.

Please don’t follow me.

But he did.

“Look, can we start over? If I upset you in any way, I’m sorry,” he said, shifting from one foot to the next. 

“You know September in upstate New York is a bit brisk for shorts,” I said with a smile.

“I’m going to take that as apology accepted.” 

He smelled good. Not like too many layers of body spray. There were hints of cinnamon coupled with layers of spice wafting through the air of the cramped space.

“Who are you?” I couldn’t pretend to be angry any longer.

“I dare you to find out.” He winked and I noticed how dark his lashes were against his light eyes and skin. This in turn sent my stomach doing flip-flops.

We were back on the first floor and Ian helped me stow away the trolley. Ms. Halle was halfway through
The Tale of Peter Rabbit
, and the handful of children seated on the circle time rug were listening intently, while a few of the younger ones wandered around, never straying too far from their parents. Ms. Halle’s long silver hair swung down over her shoulder in a thick braid and she appeared content sitting on the floor, her feet tucked beneath her long denim skirt. 

“This way,” I whispered and waved for Ian to follow. In the back room, boxes of new books were waiting to be catalogued, invading much of the space meant to be an employee break room. 

“Let me just grab my bag and we can go.” I leaned over a stack of new best-sellers and pulled my tote out from my secret spot between the wall and the desk.

“Where are we going?” 

“You’re going to walk me home. That’s what guys around here do. And you had the serendipitous timing of scaring the hell out of me at the end of my shift so now I’m afraid to go alone,” I replied.

As I grabbed my jacket from its hanger, there was a loud thud followed by terrified screams. “What was that?” Ian asked.

“No idea.”

What the hell was going on?
I peered out, expecting to find a rational explanation for what was happening in the main room. Instead, Ms. Halle was standing on her desk with a blank look on her face and a rifle in her hands. The orange glow of the sunset filtering through the windows cast a sinister light on her as she reached into the delicate eyelet-trimmed front pocket of her blouse, opened the chamber of the gun and placed a large bullet inside. 

Mothers were screaming as they scooped up their children and ran to the exit. Ms. Halle remained composed, uninterested in the melee and remained focused on her weapon. 

Ian hurried towards the front, herding the patrons out the door while I speed-walked unseen to the far end of the room where the media centers were. I looked left and then right, making sure that there were no more people in harm’s way.

I was shocked to find Ian when I back-tracked to where Ms. Halle stood, in the hopes that I could placate her. 

“Put the gun down, Ms. Halle,” he said, his voice strong in the face of danger, his posture unthreatening but firm.

“You’ll do just fine.” Her voice was not her own. She aimed the barrel of the rifle at his forehead. The sweet-hearted librarian was definitely off her rocker. 

I looked to the left, expecting to see the two spirits, only to find they were gone. 

“I said put down the gun.” This time, Ian’s voice held an extra layer that I couldn’t identify. It reverberated with power and I watched as Ms. Halle hesitated. With a quick yank, Ian pulled the rifle out of her hand and tossed it to the far end of the room. 

The sound of sirens grew closer and I remained frozen in place as Ian grabbed Ms. Halle by the legs, sending her onto her behind. Her ass hit the desk with a loud smack, followed by a high-pitched shriek as she resisted Ian’s requests to calm down.

The doors burst open and the rush of footsteps beat across the navy commercial grade carpeting. “Police. Hands in the air!”

I let out a sigh of relief. 

Two officers were by my side in a flash, hustling me away from the crime scene. Outside, I tried my best to answer questions in spite of being distracted beyond belief.

When Ms. Halle was escorted out of the building, hands behind her back, her eyes full of tears, she cried out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A group of onlookers had already flooded the street from neighboring buildings. I leaned away from the black and white squad car, hoping to catch Ms. Halle’s attention. When she passed by, I craned my neck between the wall of patrolmen. Our eyes met and the shadow passed over her eyes. She was possessed.

“Miss? Can I give you a ride home?”

“Huh?”
If one of the spirits was inhabiting Ms. Halle’s body then where was the other one?

“We’ll probably need you to come down to the station for some questioning but that can wait until tomorrow. Your father will need to bring you in. I can give you a ride home if you want?” 

“No. It’s okay.” 

At last, I saw Ian come out. He nodded to me and turned down the street, heading west in the direction of Main Street.

“Are you sure?” one of the detectives asked, not noticing Ian slip past.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I smiled for good measure, hoping that the officer would feel comfortable enough to let me leave. When he gave me the go ahead, I pulled the ends of my jacket closed in one hand and held on to the shoulder straps of my bag with the other as I rushed away from the scene. 

“What happened in there?” I asked, my breath visible in the air. The temperature had dropped a considerable amount since the sun had gone done. Soon the clocks would go back and the nights would last even longer. 

“Come on. Let me take you home,” Ian answered, ignoring the question, frustrating me to no end.

We walked through the parking lot of a convenience store in companionable silence. No questions about my well-being or how my father was “holding up” like I got from most people around town. No awkward pauses. No forced chatter. We stopped in front of an empty block of land, which was overgrown with weeds and surrounded by a chain fence six feet high. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He yanked at the master lock, which easily gave, and swung the hinges open. Placing his hand at the small of my back, he ushered me through, closing the gate behind us.

The dandelions, quackgrass, and woodsorrel fell beneath our feet as we traversed the abandoned yard, littered with broken appliances, old tires and a large porcelain bathtub filled to the brim with rusted gears and pistons.

“Is this the part where you break out the hockey mask and chainsaw?” I said, trying to sound snarky and hoping that it hid the fear that had my voice wavering.

We stopped by a large yew, the diameter of its trunk standing more than four people wide. 

“We’re here,” Ian said.

“I can see we are here.” I looked around. “But why?” 

The tree was ominous, wider than it was tall, its branches stretching up towards the sky and small red berries that radiated between the shadows cast by its flat thin leaves. Quiet blanketed the area; not even a car horn disturbed the eerie peace that surrounded us.

We stood side by side and watched the tree sway and come to life. I felt dwarfed by its size, as well as by Ian’s, who was a good six inches taller than my five feet eight. 

“I told you, I’m taking you home.”

“Excuse me. I think I’m missing something here. One,” I said, “I don’t live here. Two, last time I checked, tree wasn’t a popular mode of transportation.” 

He gave me another of his wicked smiles and placed the palm of his hand on the soft soil at the base of the tree. I was becoming familiar with the crinkle of his eyes that hinted at knowledge beyond my own.

Before I could say a word, the ground began to tremble, shooting pulses of red light up through the grooves of the bark. I brought my hand up to my face, shielding my eyes against the heat.