Ashlyn's Radio (36 page)

Janna took two crouching steps and reached for the book again, just as the apologetic textbook kicker reached too.

She gasped at what she saw. Her hand flew to her chest and she leapt back, slamming herself against the locker.

“You okay?” Darren Justason handed her the book.

She looked at him, carefully, closely, and then nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, holding the book to her chest now, almost protectively. Her voice was shaking and her heart was pounding all over again. But this boy wasn’t a demon. Tough, certainly. Sullen. But no way in hell a demon.

But still, what she’d seen!

“Thanks,” Janna dared to whisper. “And … thanks for the 6.25.”

Darren looked at her for what seemed to Janna just a sizing-up moment too long, then resettled the hard-as-nails, grim look to his face. He shrugged his shoulders back in place and took off down the hall. And Janna fought conflicting impulses — the impulse to run after him, and the impulse to run like hell in the other direction.

Because when Darren had reached to grab her book, his hoodie sleeve had risen just enough for her to see the ink. The tattoo on his right forearm, just above his wrist, was that of a demon. Not a generic-type demon creature, not a cartoon, pitchforked devil. The tattoo that Janna saw on Darren’s arm was a perfect representation — a
perfect
hell soul catching drawing — of Mr. N.J. Leblanc, right down to the knots on the neck and the blazing red eyes.

Janna watched Darren walk down the hallway until the sight of him was lost to her in the sea of unsuspecting faces.