Demonica (11 page)

13

The Hostage at Hexham Manor

Saturday passed by way too fast. No matter what I did to occupy time, my mind lingered on the fact that I had to fight Amon tonight.

I had to kill him.

With my brain in its current mindfuck state, homework was out of the question. All of the so-called “relaxing” activities of my usual Saturdays—reading on the hammock out back, watching TV, taking a warm bath—were nerve-racking and pointless. I could not just sit and hope that my brain would unwind.

So instead, Dante and I took another trip to the forest. We dueled like my life depended on it. Because…well…yeah.

Apparently, Dante went easy on me yesterday. Because now, his speed, agility, and strength were all suddenly running on hyperdrive. I was able to keep up. But just barely. I was losing half of these battles.

Dante slipped behind me, gripping my head between his arms in a way where he could easily snap my neck. “You’re dead.”

He released me.

“Faster, Monica. Don’t let me out of your sight.”

The score was Monica: 3, Dante: 4. The ball was in my court.

Earlier that morning, I slipped my mom’s biggest knife out of the kitchen. It was the only way I could think to avoid another Demon Dagger mishap. Dante didn’t even flinch at the sight of the twelve-inch stainless carbon steel chef’s knife. The blade gleamed as I shifted it in my palm.

I launched myself at him. The blade flashed as I lunged. Dante danced around me. His fist missed my face by an inch. I was too preoccupied to notice his foot. He kicked my legs out from under me. As I fell, I stabbed upward. Before he could finish me off on the ground, my knife was planted in his chest.

“Good job,” said Dante. He winced humorously. With a grunt, he pulled the knife out. The wound in his chest sealed instantly. “You ready for tonight?”

“Nope,” I said. “You?”

“With Amon preparing a special surprise for me? I’m ecstatic.”

***

I told my parents I would be going to a party with Zoey tonight. Which was true. Sort of. I merely left out the fact that my ride was my fake Demon boyfriend and that we were teleporting directly to Hexham Manor. I was pretty sure the Hexham murders and Hell House legend started in their generation, so leaving out the particular location of the party was somewhat crucial. Otherwise I might as well have told them I was bringing a Ouija board over to a Satanist gathering to commune with the Dark Lord and sacrifice some virgins. Kickin’ it old school, bitches.

Trying to dress simultaneously for a party and a death match was tricky. I finally settled for short jean cut-offs, a white tank, and Chuck Taylors. Casual was always acceptable if more skin was involved. Unfortunately, I knew I couldn’t get away with no makeup, especially coming to the party with my new “boyfriend”. By the time I was finished with my face, I scoped myself out in my full body mirror. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I looked like I was dead set on getting some action tonight.

There would definitely be action involved.

In order to avoid suspicion, I exited through the front door and called goodbye to my parents.

“Goodbye, sweetie,” said Mom. “Be safe.”

I shut the door behind me. Dante was already beside me on the porch. He extended an escorting arm.

“Shall we?”

I didn’t know where Dante got his wardrobe, but he certainly wore it well. Glancing from the bottom up, he was sporting slip-on canvas shoes, boot-cut jeans, and a fitted flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He looked like a fashion-savvy version of Casey.

I forced a weak smile and took his arms. “Let’s kill this bastard.”

Dante smiled and nodded. And then everything became a blur. Gravity went ballistic. Our surroundings swirled with hurricane force. My red hair whipped out like an open fire. My legs nearly buckled as solid ground slammed beneath my feet.

Dante’s wit was faster than my ability to fix my hair.

“You look like Pippie Longstocking meets Samara from The Ring.”

I desperately pushed my hair back with both hands. “Gee, you sure know what to say to a girl.”

I spent a few more seconds trying to fix the untamed mess on my head before giving up entirely. It was only going to get messed up anyway. The sun had sunk beyond the forest horizon, but a new light glared through the low-hanging branches. It was accompanied by a chorus of teenage voices, blaring music, and a resonating bass.

We emerged from the thick of the trees. There was easily a hundred or more teens. Some were dancing, others were drinking, and plenty were mixing the two activities together with mixed results. Many were disoriented, laughing hysterically, and bumping into each other. Beer cans littered the scene. I guess Amon had found the easy way to draw teens to a party. If he was worried about getting busted by the police, it certainly didn’t show.

A bonfire roared amidst the horde of teens. The flames illuminated rows of disorderly parked vehicles. There were roasting spikes for hotdogs and s’mores laid out on a nearby table, along with all the ingredients. They appeared to have been abandoned and for good reason. A few boys were currently taking the liberty of peeing in the fire simultaneously. I couldn’t figure out if they were trying to write their names in cursive or they were having a urine sword fight.

Boys will be boys. Unfortunately.

Hexham Manor loomed over everything. The house breathed sinister life, glowing orange against the bonfire. Shadows pulsed in every weathered crevice.

“Hey, Monica,” said a peppy male voice. A head of curly brown hair surfaced from the crowd. A grin was plastered across his face.

“Hi, Levi,” I said. “I almost didn’t recognize you without that bazooka you call a camera around your neck.”

Levi grinned and reached into the pocket of his khakis. He removed a sleek little digital camera. “Never leave home without it.”

He flashed a brief glance at Dante, who stood a solid foot taller, and returned his gaze to me. “So I heard about Casey.” His smile faded, if only slightly. “Zoey told me. Is he okay?”

My mind inadvertently flashed to my brother, snarling and foaming at the mouth. I hastily shoved the image away.

“Yeah, he’s doing great,” I said. “The doctors can’t believe how fast he’s healing.”

God, why did I even bother with these half-truths?

I noticed Dante’s impatience; his eyes were practically rolling out of their sockets. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and jumped into introductions. “Dante, this is Levi. He’s on the student council with me. Levi, this is Dante. He’s…my…boyfriend?”

I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question. I really didn’t.

“Oh wow, that’s great,” said Levi. He shook Dante’s hand as if he’d just popped The Question. “I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”

“It’s new.”

“Huh,” said Levi. He turned back to Dante. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

“I just moved here,” said Dante. He was wearing a ridiculously fake smile.

“Oh really? Where’re you from?”

“Hell.”

Levi’s smile wavered uncertainly.

“Michigan,” said Dante.

Levi chuckled. “That’s awesome. Well welcome to Villeneuve. I’ll give you guys some alone time. Oh, and Monica, tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will,” I said. I waved as he turned and disappeared into the crowds.

As soon as he was out of sight, Dante’s face dropped. “I don’t like him.”

“What? Why not? He’s not a…? He’s not a Demon, is he?”

“He smiles too much.”

I rolled my eyes and smacked him in the shoulder.

“What, you don’t think so?” said Dante. “I swear, put him in clown makeup, dye his hair green, and he’s the goddamn Joker.”

“He’s a nice guy. Why don’t you focus on not liking Demons instead.”

“Well he could be a Demon for all I know. Something’s messing with my senses.”

“Huh?” I said. I bit my lip. “Really? Do you think that’s the surprise Amon was talking about?”

Dante shrugged. “Maybe.”

He sounded very unconvinced.

We casually strolled forward, immersing ourselves in the party. I spotted plenty of faces that I knew. Levi was now talking with Kelly, as in, The Kelly Who Never Stopped Talking. She spotted me and waved excitedly before returning to her conversation. The blonde Hartley twins, Lucy and Lilith, were garnering their own crowds of friends and followers, quite separate from each other. I also spotted quite a few of Casey’s football buddies.

The next face I saw made me freeze.

Bill.

He was standing in the midst of several interacting crowds, oblivious to him. I could only make out his top half, wearing a black hoodie with a skull embroidered on the front. The hood was pulled over his buzzed head, shadowing his face.

His eyes were trained explicitly on me.

“Dante,” I said. My voice was a whisper.

I pulled my gaze away for only a second. I caught his sleeve, turning back to face the eerie goth.

Bill was gone.

Frantically, I scoured the crowds. There was no sign of him.

“What is it?” said Dante.

It was difficult to pull my anxious gaze away from where he’d been standing. Wherever he went, now was not the time to make a scene. After all, Bill was wearing a black hoodie outside at night. It would be all too easy for him to disappear in a crowd like this.

“Nothing,” I said in a tone that indicated the exact opposite. “Let’s just find Amon already.”

Dante and I started for the house. We dodged and weaved through the crowd. When we reached the rickety porch, it was surprisingly empty. Though the blinds were shut, it was obvious that the lights inside were off. I noticed a few wandering gazes from the crowd drift our way.

Was everyone really taking this whole Hexham Hell House bullshit seriously? Something was off. Teenagers didn’t just have a party at a “haunted house” and then steer clear of it.

Dante approach the front door. That’s when I noticed the note pinned beside the doorknob with a steak knife. It appeared to be stained in blood. Only at a drunk high school party at a haunted house could someone get away with this. The words were big, sloppy, and finger-painted in the same suspicious red substance:

Dante and Monica may enter. Anyone else will be killed.

“Hey,” said a boy’s voice.

Unlike Levi, I didn’t identify this voice instantly. He waved and navigated his way through the crowds to the front porch. It wasn’t until I spotted his well-built frame, blonde crew cut, and the cross on his necklace that I recognized him. Eli Jacobson—one of Casey’s football buddies. The “Tim-Tebow-wannabe Jesus freak” if you remember that highlight of my nonjudgmentalism.

“Oh…hey, Eli,” I said.

“Some party, huh?” he said. His gaze shifted to Dante for only a split-second. And then he glanced past me. “Love the sign.”

I forced a weak smile, turning back to the bloody warning. “Yeah. It’s…great.”

“Yeah…” Eli agreed awkwardly. He ran his hand across the fuzz of his crew cut.

Dante rolled his eyes, clearly perturbed by the bungling small talk.

“So hey, I have a favor to ask,” said Eli. He seemed all too aware that the conversation was spiraling to self-destruction. “Two of my buddies thought it would be funny to sneak into the house. That was like a half-hour ago. If you’re going in, could you tell them to get their butts out here?”

My face paled instantly, and Dante seemed all too aware.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll tell them,” said Dante.

Eli blinked vacantly, as if noticing Dante for the first time, and nodded. “You’re Dante, right?”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “Uh…”

“Zoey mentioned you,” said Eli. His gaze seemed to scan Dante up and down. Dante shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. “You seem like a good guy.”

“Um…thanks,” said Dante. His tone was not so much
thankful
as it was suspicious.

Eli cast one last lingering glance from Dante to me before turning and leaving. As he wandered off, Dante and I slowly shifted to face the door with its blood-inked message. We exchanged dreading glances.

“You ready for this?” he said.

I responded with a look that said, ‘Do I look like a sadomasochist?’

Dante opened the door, and whether it was gentlemanly or not, allowed me to enter first. I stepped into the musty darkness and was then fully immersed in it as Dante shut the door behind us.

“Hey, keep the door open!” I said. “I can’t see anything!”

“Oh,” said Dante. “Right. Human. Here, how about some better light?”

Dante’s blue Demon eyes could obviously see in the dark because I could hear him strolling casually across the hardwood floor to a distant wall. There was a soft flick and then a hum as electrical light filled the room. Only two bulbs of the entryway chandelier lit, although one flashed and died instantly, leaving only one left.

The place was still in shambles, to put it in the most generous sense possible. Every surface was caked in dust. Cobwebs stretched across corners of the ceiling. Several pegs were broken or missing from the railing of the nearby staircase, ascending to the shadowy balcony. The spacious front room was still fully furnished, although couches and chairs were ripped to pieces. Carpets were torn and frayed. Vases and other fragile antiques were shattered. And, of course, there were giant claw marks everywhere; Amon’s grandiose signature.

I then noticed a faint trace of liquid red across the hardwood floor. It trailed further into the house.

Blood. Fuck.

“Ah, bread crumbs,” said Dante.

I acknowledged Dante’s attempt at humor with my ha-ha-ha-SHUT-YOUR-JOKE-HOLE look. He cleared his throat and pretended that he didn’t have a mouth anymore.

I followed the trail. With each step, my gut twisted into a tighter knot. This reminded me all too much of finding my brother barely alive in a pool of his own blood. Dante stayed by my side, although my gaze was still fixed on the floor. Like, I even blinking felt like a mistake. The occasional bloody droplets increased to a trickling line, ever thickening. Alongside it, wood splintered out from claw marks spread as wide as my face. Naturally, as we left the light of the entryway, the shadows consumed us. And then the darkness was diminished from cracked and broken windows. Moonlight flooded the connecting room. The ceiling finally opened up into a spacious den. The blood, however, ended at a lonely puddle in the middle of the floor.