Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) (5 page)

“It’s okay, Gemma,” Ian said. I felt the wisp of his breath tickle my neck and felt safe enough to look.

Where before there had been a haphazard pattern of brown scaling bark, there now lay a door of polished smooth onyx with nothing but a knocker of brushed nickel in the shape of a curved ram’s horn on it.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, in awe of the enigmatic display of the arcane. 

He picked up the solid horn and dropped it, letting out a large resonant whack. The door creaked open in response and I was left with a choice to make.

“Your chariot awaits,” Ian said.

The inside of my nose tickled and I sneezed at the strong smell of sulfur that wafted towards us. Entranced, I moved forward, taking Ian’s hand for support and following him through the opening.

The pull was furious, sucking us in like the hose of a vacuum cleaner. Ash sprayed my eyes and filled my mouth as my body propelled through a series of loops. I couldn’t distinguish between up and down, left and right. We were being launched at near Mach-speed through an ephemeris tunnel. My insides churned from the pressure and I gripped tighter to Ian’s hand, holding on for dear life. I felt my hold on him loosen. No longer able to grasp his palm, I clutched onto the pads of his fingers. He grabbed my other wrist and I calmed amidst the rolling waves of soot and wind. 

We decelerated, came to a slow stop and then hovered above dozens of sinkholes cluttering the phosphorescent landscape, rolling dunes of sand that moved in an endless expanse within this cavern. 

And then there was the sun. Not the sun seen on Earth that nourished its inhabitants but a brilliant blue and white gaseous ball that shone like a diamond and was just as icy.

“That’s the one.” Ian pointed to the black hole below.

When we touched ground, the wooden soles of my lace-up boots clicked.

“I don’t understand,” I said, circling around and breaking out in what bit of tap dance I could still remember. “It looks like sand.”

“That’s just how things work here.” He crouched down and stuck his arm into the pit until it disappeared. After a bit of maneuvering and hoisting, he was able to pull out a massive length of leather cord.

I leaned over his shoulder in order to get a better view of things. Instead, I was distracted by the curve of his collarbone peeking out of the V-neck of his thin white cotton tee.

“Watch.” He grinned. I was pretty sure that meant
I know you were checking me out
.

I knelt beside him, too embarrassed to sneak any more looks at my Adonis and watched as the cord in his hold jerked away, curving itself to form a head. Then, without warning, it split into a spiral of thinner strips. A portion wound itself around his forearm and embedded deep into the skin until it resembled a tattoo while the remainder rippled back into the shadows of the hole. 

He yanked at the cord and it became taut, shivering with energy. “Hold on tight,” Ian said as he wrapped his free arm around my waist. 

And off we went, riding into the dark abyss, his laughter echoing behind us.

“We’re here.” 

Those were the first words I heard after being shoved through a wall of viscous goop. 

I stared, dumbfounded at the sight of Ian sitting on the stoop with my ghost beside him, awash in the light of the flood lamp above my front door.

“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing to the apparition.

“Wait a minute.” I spun around and saw the lawn, and the hazy silhouette of the mailbox and hedges that lined our property.

“It’s a one-way trip,” Ian replied to my unasked question. “You can’t get back in from here.”

“Yeah, but how did you know where I live?”

“Do you really want an explanation? It’s sort of long- winded and doesn’t make any difference. Meanwhile, what’s up with Casper?”

“Who?”

“You know, the friendly ghost?” He pointed to Ghosty, who remained inert.

“It’s been here ever since I came home from the hospital. I’ve been seeing them everywhere.”

“Were you sick or something?” he asked. Concern drew lines around his mouth.

“Do you really want an explanation? It’s sort of long-winded and doesn’t make any difference.” I avoided his gaze and found my bag on the floor. I picked it up and dusted it off before making my way up the stairs, keys in hand. 

“Well, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ian said, hopping to his feet.

My mind was buzzing with questions about what I had just seen and experienced. All I wanted to say was “
No, don’t go. Come inside. Tell me everything,”
but the words got stuck in my throat. The part of me that would have confided in him had already switched off. 

I started to put my key in the lock when Ian called out.

“Oh, and Gemma.” 

“What?” I said.

“I’ve been seeing them since I was born.” And then he left.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The next morning, I immersed myself in routine. Wake, run, shower, eat. This time though, I had had a late start. My mind kept racing in circles. First to Miss Halle’s psychotic break then to Ian’s trippy way home, leaving me sleeping all through the entire length of Freddie Mercury’s operatic styling of “Bohemian Rhapsody” I had set as my alarm.

“Good Morning, pumpkin.” My dad stood next to the counter with his coat on, rifling through stacks of papers and yesterday’s mail.

“Morning.” My voice was hoarse.
Must have been the pound of sand I swallowed following Ian
into Never Never Land
.

“I got a call last night at the office about what happened yesterday.”

Thanks for calling to check up on me, Dad. “
No biggie,” I replied and began shoveling Cheerios into my mouth so that I wouldn’t say something stupid.

He fiddled around with his briefcase, transferred a bunch of manila folders, and rearranged them until he seemed satisfied with the way they fit. “No, it is a big deal, honey,” he said, looking up from his papers.

Finally, he is going to realize I’m alone. 

“
But I really had to work late and you know how it is when I get busy.”

Ah, the two big b’s: but and busy
.

“Sure, Dad,” I answered. My head ached and I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. I’ve had my fill.

“Can you describe these black spots for me, Gemma?” 

This was a new doctor. A pediatric neurology specialist flown in from the Boston Children’s Hospital after a lot of arm- twisting. 

“They’re more like shadows.” I flicked the first aid tape that held my IV in place and played with the end as it began to curl.

“Can you be a little more specific? It’s important we find out exactly what you’re seeing so you can get a proper diagnosis. The sooner we can give you a clean bill of health, the sooner you can go home.”

“Um… Can I get some water?” I asked. If I stalled long enough, maybe he would give up and leave. The thought of going home petrified me. Four weeks in the hospital had me wrapped in a cocoon of fear and complacency.

“Gemma,” my dad barked.

“What? I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll get the water.” He stuck his index finger in my face. “You answer Dr. Volpe’s questions.” 

But I didn’t.

Instead, I lay there, staring at the small television screen, ignoring Dr. Volpe until he made up some excuse about checking my MRI results again and left.

“Gemma, please.” My father’s pleas stole through the wall I had erected to shut everyone out so I reinforced it and sealed myself tighter while the nurses dragged my screaming father out of the room.

“Gem?”

“Hmm?” I looked at my dad and knew by the strain in his neck that he had caught me zoning out.

“Is that okay?”

“Is what okay?” I mumbled as I tilted the bowl to my face, slurping up some of the milk.

“We’ll drive down to the station now so we can wrap up your statement to the police and then you won’t miss too much class.”

“I don’t think so.” My heart hit the floor.

“Gemma, it’s about time you got over your fear. You can’t let these kinds of things dictate your life.” The vein on the side of his forehead reared its ugly head and I knew he was frustrated. My dad the control freak couldn’t get me to do anything these days. With Brian it was different. I had a partner and it was easy getting things done - homework, studying, practice, even chores.

“These kinds of things?” My voice was harsh and I nearly spewed a mouthful of cereal into his face. “I was in an accident. My brother died. My two best friends died. And I’m just supposed to paint on a happy face and get on with my life so you can feel better?”

“That’s not what I meant, Gem.” He let out a sigh.

I pushed my bowl into the sink and stalked off to the coat closet where I wrenched my jacket off its hanger and pulled my tote off the floor. 

“Gem, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help. It isn’t healthy to let life’s rough spots stop you from living.”

“Oh, just like when Mom left.” I threw my arms up in the air. “You had no problems leaving us with baby-sitters and getting right back to your research. Or how about now? Do you even notice that Brian is gone?”

“What happened with your mother was different.” His eyes grew cold. “You’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”

“Sure,” I scoffed. 

He held the front door open for me and I stormed off towards his car. I grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath. My father paused and smiled before getting into the driver’s seat. The ignition started and the car rumbled to life.

Frantically, I rapped my knuckles against the plate glass window. When there was enough of an opening, I blurted, “I’ll meet you there,” and ran down the driveway.

I managed to get to the police station fifteen minutes after my dad, which I thought was great timing. He did not. I could tell by the number of times he checked his watch. This happened to work to my benefit since the detective on the case decided to spare me additional parental torture by keeping the interview short and sweet.

He explained that Ms. Halle was still in custody and was awaiting arraignment. The city was pressing charges but her lawyer had requested a mental health evaluation. 

When I strode into gym class, with only ten minutes left to the period, I had the pleasure of being the target of a barrage of dodge balls. 

After changing out of my gym clothes, I met Charlotte in the hallway. She had opted for a more demure look of skin-tight jeans and a red velvet corset top. Definitely, the most clothing I’d seen her on her in school since fourth grade.

“Guess what?” she said. 

“Your cleavage got cast as the lead in the school play?”

She had started developing first. I was still in the process of catching up.

“Shut up. No, really. Try to guess.” Her pout was accentuated by high gloss pink lipstick.

“I hate it when you pout,” I replied as I took out my wallet and shoved the rest of my bag in my locker. 

“Well, aside from everyone talking about how you pulled a gun on the old librarian, I got the lead in the Broadway Revue.” 

“I did not. It was the other way around!” I slammed the door to my locker and went straight to the cafeteria, dragging Charlotte along.

“Just forget it, Gem.”

“Easy for you to say.” I joined the line and ended up with a bagel and cream cheese while Charlotte got her usual chicken Caesar salad. 

“Let’s go sit and you can vent to me all you like,” she said.

As I was unwrapping the wax paper from my sandwich, someone elbowed me, sending my food underneath the table to my right. 

“Please don’t shoot,” Allison said in mock terror. Her friends giggled like a cackle of hyenas. She parked herself on the bench while Matt took the empty spot next to her. I couldn’t get to my lunch now even if I was willing to salvage it. Which I wasn’t. The dust bunnies hiding under the baseboard heater and around the legs of the table extinguished any plans to follow the five-second rule.

“Hey, Matt,” I said, my voice low.

He didn’t reply and continued to inhale his meatball sub. I had always teased him about slowing down.

“Go away, Gemma,” Allison snapped.

Not having enough money to get something else, I gave up on the thought of lunch and joined Charlotte, who had snagged a spot in the back near the emergency exit doors and the window with the view of the field.

“Why do you even listen to that bitch?” Charlotte asked, stabbing a crouton with her fork.

“I can’t bring myself to be mean to her, no matter how badly I want to be. She’s kind of one of the only connections to Brian I have left. Hopefully, she’ll come around and stop being a perpetual hag.” I sighed, picking a piece of grilled chicken from her bowl. “But I don’t want to be a downer. Tell me about the play.” 

I managed to find a smile for her, which sent Charlotte into a flurry of dialogue about the audition after drama class and the casting list that had been tacked up on the bulletin board first thing this morning.