Demon Derby (22 page)

All of this flashed through my mind as the snake dog crouched a few feet away, preparing to spring. I fumbled through the foam, knocking over a chair. Finally my hand closed on something slippery smooth, and I pulled it up to look at it. A beer bottle.

The dog leapt at me with a blurry flash of movement. I should have expected it to move faster than a normal dog, because 693 and Michael were both mega-fast, but it still shocked the hell out of me. I clamped my lips closed on a scream. I couldn’t risk any noise; Rachel would come wading through the foam to help. And losing my sister to this thing wasn’t an option.

The dog’s heavy body knocked me to the floor, squeezing all the breath out of me. I desperately threw my arm up to
protect my face as its slavering jaws closed just inches from my eyes. One fang opened a burning gash along the length of my forearm, and my hand went instantly numb.

The bottle was still clutched in my other hand, though. I broke it over the thing’s head. Glass rained down on my eyes, and I barely managed to close them in time.

There was no fiery sizzle. No tingling in my fingers. No white light. I didn’t know why it wasn’t working, and I lacked the time to sit there and figure it out. I’d have to find another way to take this thing down.

The dog’s triangular head shook back and forth; I’d clocked it pretty good. It didn’t seem wise to give it time to collect itself, so I whacked it again. The jagged glass pierced the demon’s reptilian skin, and then the gaping wound sprayed me with brackish blood that smelled like industrial sewage. It stunk so bad that I nearly puked all over myself.

It snapped at me again, and I just started hitting it, over and over. I dimly heard Rachel shouting my name, and all I could think was that I had to protect her. I had to kill it. So I kept on battering and didn’t stop until the bottle broke into tiny little pieces and there wasn’t enough left to hold on to.

When my head cleared, the demon dog’s body sprawled limply on top of me.

“Casey?” Rachel sounded close by and very worried. “Where are you hiding? This isn’t funny. You’re scaring me.”

The foam kept getting lower and lower, and the Shop-Vac guys weren’t spraying any more of it my way. I crouched, waiting for something to happen, but the dog just lay there
uncooperatively. If it was a demon, I knew a Relic was the only way to truly kill it, but hopefully, I’d bought enough time for us to get away. So I shoved it under the fence with my good hand. Maybe it would leave once it realized I was no longer there.

“Casey!” This time Rachel shouted.

I took a quick minute to rub at the stains on my shirt with a convenient handful of foam. I smelled beery and gross, but there was nothing I could do about that. Then I stood up, holding my injured arm against my side and flailing to clear the foam with the other.

“I’m over here!” I yelled back. “I just cut myself something fierce, though.”

We waded toward each other, and I held my arm up for inspection. A pair of long furrows ran up the length of my forearm, and the skin around it was already puffy and red. It burned more than I thought it had a right to. Blood dripped steadily off my elbow and onto the floor.

“Sadie!” Rachel yelled, not taking her eyes off me. “Get a towel! We’ve got to take Casey to the ER for stitches.”

“Aw, crap,” said Sadie, emerging from the foam like a ghost and scaring the daylights out of me in the process.

“Sorry to ruin your foam party.” I held my arm away from my body in a vain attempt not to bleed all over myself.

“Eh.” She shrugged. “It’s all right. It’s not the end of the world.”

I wished she hadn’t said that. It felt way too much like she was tempting fate.

It took two hours of waiting, fifteen stitches, and about a half hour on the phone describing my injuries in detail to my mother before we finally got back to the dorms. I certainly wasn’t going to tell everyone about the demon dog, so I settled for vagueness—I’d been trying to sneak up on my sister, only I’d tripped on something in the foam and cut myself. By the time I hung up Rachel’s cell, which she’d kindly dialed for me since it was tough to do with one hand, I was utterly exhausted. I fell onto one of the empty beds and was instantly asleep.

When I woke up the next morning and turned my phone on to check the time, there were eleven missed calls and texts. All but two were from Michael.

Darcy texted to say thanks for getting her home when she was sick and to ask if I wanted to go to the movies sometime. I saved that one.

Then a text from Michael:
WHERE R U?!?!?

The first voice mail was from Michael, his voice urgent: “Where did you go, Casey? I felt you leave, and you’re not answering your phone, and I can’t protect you if you leave the area without telling me. Call me right away.”

A few hours later: “Just checking in. I’ll be unavailable for the next hour or so, but if you get this, drop me a message? Maybe we should have started training immediately. Call me.” Then, right around the time I started fighting the demon dog, the messages started coming fast and furious.

“What’s wrong? Call me right now, Casey.”

“Call me, damn it.”

He kept calling, leaving no messages.

Then there was an automated message from my cell company apologizing for the service interruptions last night—which explained the crappy reception—and offering to credit my account. This kind of thing happened all the time. Normally it was just annoying, but this time it had practically killed me. I was definitely changing my provider.

Then the last message, from early this morning. Michael’s voice was strained with fear. “I know you’re somewhere to the north. I’m coming, Casey. I’ll find you.”

I ended the call and frowned thoughtfully. It felt good to know Michael had my back. If I was hurt, he’d know. He’d
find me. But a part of me wouldn’t stop berating myself for being afraid. If I was tough, I shouldn’t feel a wave of relief that he was coming to my rescue, right?

Enough of this. I could overanalyze things all day, or I could call and let him know everything was all right. It took two fumbling attempts to dial, but I finally managed. He picked up after half a ring.

“Casey?” he gasped.

“I’m okay,” I said. “And I think I’m going to do the hunter thing, although it scares the crap out of me and I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it. I’ll try it. But if you have a dog, all bets are off.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Michael? Are you there?”

“Uh … yeah.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I’m glad I don’t have a dog.”

“Good.” I shuddered. “I’m not so keen on dogs right now.”

“So, are you in a building named Murphy Hall, by any chance? Because I’m standing outside of it, and I’m pretty sure you’re in there somewhere.”

I nodded like he might be able to see me through the walls. “Room two twelve.”

After I hung up, I rolled to my feet, cradling my injured arm. I needed to brush my teeth, but at least I didn’t have to worry about bed head. Baldness has its advantages.

“Rachel,” I called through her closed bedroom door. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve got company.”

“Mmmph,” she said, and then I heard a loud thump. Either
she’d just fallen out of bed or she’d thrown something at the door. “Company what?”

“My … uh … boyfriend is here. At the dorm. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Sadie shrieked, sweeping out of the room in a short filmy nightgown trimmed in feathers and printed with bright green skulls. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Why didn’t you tell us about this last night?”

“Sadie, unhand my sister,” Rachel said. But then, as soon as Sadie vacated my shoulders, she took over and shook me too. “Why didn’t you tell us this last night?”

“It’s not that big a deal.” I scratched at the edge of my bandages. The wounds were starting to itch already. I know that’s supposed to be a good sign, but it was still annoying. “I mean, it would be nice if you guys put on pants, but otherwise there’s no need to go all out.”

Rachel looked down at her bare legs. “Pants. Yes. That’s a good idea.” Then she slammed the door in my face.

I’d just gotten a nice mouthful of toothpaste when he knocked.

“That must be our lover boy.” Sadie breezed past the bathroom. She’d taken my pants suggestion literally; she was wearing a pair of what looked like black satin capris under the ridiculous nightie. The ridiculous part being that she actually looked
good
.

I choked out the word “Wait!” and managed to spray minty foam all over the mirror. By the time I’d rinsed my mouth out
and cleaned the toothpaste off the wall, she’d already opened the door.

“Oh my God,” she said, staring at Michael.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “I’m Michael. You’re not Casey’s sister, are you?”

“Nah, I’m the comic relief. Name’s Sadie.”

“I’m the sister,” Rachel interjected, toppling onto the thin cushions of the sofa. “And I’m happy to meet you, but I don’t do mornings very well.”

“I think they should be outlawed,” he replied.

Rachel threw one arm over her eyes. “Casey, you should keep this one. Now, someone please make me coffee, and I will love you forever.”

Sadie made the coffee, and then the uncomfortable staring began. Michael stared at the bandage on my arm like he had X-ray vision. Sadie, Rachel, and I stared at him like we were trying to figure out if he had X-ray vision.

“Well,” Rachel said, draining the last of her mug. “I just remembered that Sadie and I desperately need to clean our bedroom for the next half hour or so. Don’t we, Sadie?”

“Oh, definitely.” She grinned. “Saturday mornings are always cleaning time. Nothing like getting up bright and early to tidy things up.” She paused, and then whispered very loudly, “Do you think they’re buying it?”

Michael and I both shook our heads, but it was too late. Rachel grabbed Sadie’s arm and dragged her back into their bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

“I’m sorry,” I said hastily, sitting down on the sofa. “Maybe
I shouldn’t have told them you were my boyfriend, but it was the only way I could think of to justify your being here.”

He sat down beside me and slung an arm over my shoulders. “There are worse things than being your boyfriend, Casey.”

Did that mean we were officially dating? We’d never really had that conversation, and he had to stay balanced to keep from going demonic. I hadn’t had many boyfriends, since I’d gotten sick just as I was reaching prime dating age, but I knew relationships were all about the push and pull. Loving someone gave them power over you, and that wouldn’t be good for either of us. I was going to get my heart broken if I kept this up, but I didn’t know how to make it stop. And if I was being honest, I really didn’t want to.

This was why I was anti-romance. It turned people into idiots.

“Speaking of worse things,” he continued. “Tell me what happened.”

So I told him, keeping my voice down because I would have bet money that Sadie was listening at the door. Or Rachel. Probably both.

When I finished, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Casey. This is my fault. I intended to leave you alone because I thought you needed a little space to think things over. I figured I could keep an eye on you. I guess it would have been smart to tell you to stay in town, huh?”

I shook my head emphatically. “No, we’re not going down that road!” His eyes widened, and I realized I was beginning
to shout. I continued, careful to keep my voice down. “I’m responsible for me. You’re not. And if we’re going to be hunting demons together, or pretend dating, or whatever this is—”

“I’m not pretending,” he murmured.

“Me either.” Our eyes locked, but I pulled mine away before I got too swoony. “But I need to learn to stand on my own, you know? I can’t be counting on you to swoop in and tell me what to do. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“So you want to hunt on your own? Without me?” He sounded wounded.

“I didn’t say that, idiot. But it would be nice to understand what’s going on so I can stop blundering around like I’m an idiot too.”

“Done. Now, did you know you’re very cute when you’re irate?” he asked, leaning toward me and running a finger down my cheek.

I laughed. And then I got some more coffee and tried to think of anything but kissing him. It wasn’t safe for either of us to get too attached, so I couldn’t afford to encourage him, no matter how much I wanted to.