Demon Derby (15 page)

“Yeah, but I’m not stupid. People get hurt in knife fights. I’d rather pass.”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at me, slowly shaking his head. Bald girls, and especially bald girls with random marker designs on their heads, get used to being stared at pretty fast, but this was different. There was the whole nonhuman thing, for instance.

I stopped and put my hands on my waist, boldly looking back. If he was going to give me the once-over, then I was going to throw it right back into his face. Unfortunately, the plan, while ingenious, kind of backfired. We stared into each
other’s eyes. He took a step closer. When his breath wafted into my face, I barely kept from swooning.

“You’re pretty astounding,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t you expect the magic guy with flaming wings to come to your rescue?”

“What do you think I am? A total loser? I’m not.”

“All right,” he said agreeably. “If you say so.” He took a step closer. I had to break the moment before I did something really embarrassing. I still wasn’t sure where we stood or what I thought of him. Was he even allowed to date, or would that just pull him off balance? Whatever that meant. I wasn’t sure, but it was all too easy to get caught up in the fun of flirting with him. Flirting was safe compared to all the other things we’d been talking about.

“Besides,” I said, clearing my throat, “you’d probably end up burning the whole block down, and then where would we be?”

“Standing in the middle of a burned-out street, I guess,” he said, still watching me intently.

“Good point.” I forced myself to turn away and start walking again. “So, what are we going to see, anyway?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that.” Washington Street dead-ended at Jefferson about half a block down, and he pointed at the large brick factory that loomed at the junction. It was one of those buildings that sit way too close to the sidewalk for comfort. If you looked up at the graffiti-covered walls while standing next to it, you were almost guaranteed a nice case of vertigo for your trouble.

“Wow,” I said. “It’s a building.”

“Observant. Very observant.”

“You didn’t really haul me all over town to stare at a building, did you?”

“It’s not just any building, Casey.”

“Oh?” I folded my arms. “Well, enlighten me. Is this a demon in disguise? I expected it to be less … bricky.”

He rolled his eyes, a big dramatic roll that made it entirely obvious how exasperated he was.

“So you can’t see it, then?” he asked.

“See what? What am I supposed to be seeing? It’s a big, ugly building. There’s nothing to see.”

He leaned down, his face looming closer to mine. For a moment, I flashed back to the scene in the alley, to the fire-streaked face of the creepy guy in white—the demon—as he’d tried to violate me with his tongue. But Michael worked for the good guys. I couldn’t see him burning anyone, except maybe by accident.

I looked up at him, wondering if he was going to kiss me again and if I was going to slap him this time. Maybe I wanted to be kissed.…

He opened his mouth and blew gently into my eyes. It didn’t hurt or anything because he did it so softly, but it felt awfully weird. I closed my eyes and took a big gulp of that citrus-tinged air. It smelled so damned good. I had to look away before I made a fool of myself by planting my lips on his and trying to suck all the breath out of his body.

And when I opened my eyes, I was looking at the factory.
Or rather, I was looking at the black cloud that hung around it like a cloak, choking the air.

“What the hell is that?” I exclaimed. It came out so loud that a couple of tat-covered guys at the gas station turned to look at me. I forced myself to speak more quietly. “Do you see that?”

I rubbed my eyes, but it was still there.

“I see it,” he said softly. He sounded sad, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to look at him, not while the pull toward him was still so freaking strong. “Now do you understand?”

“Well, no. Actually, I don’t understand at all. It’s …” I squinted at the building. “It’s not smoke. It’s not …” I felt sheepish saying this next part, but I was committed to seeing this through, so I went for it. “It’s not even physical, is it? That black stuff.”

“Nope.” He stared at the building intently. “That’s good. Most people don’t get that so fast.”

“Great,” I said. “I’ll put it on my college applications—‘Has a knack for seeing immaterial shadows.’ And I don’t even practice.”

“It’s nothing you can practice. You’re just more sensitive because of what you’ve been through.”

“What’s that?”

“Near-death experiences have the potential to open people up. Or break them entirely.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” I said accusingly. “I thought you said you were still an apprentice.”

“We …” He cleared his throat and tried to rub the flush
from his cheeks. “My brother made me watch an instructional video.”

“About what? What people say after they look at imaginary clouds?”

“It’s not imaginary,” he said, frowning. “I thought you understood that.”

“Well, duh. I was just joking.”

“But—” He stopped, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, twisting it into random corkscrews that made him look even more like a model than before, if such a thing was humanly possible. Or inhumanly possible, as the case might be. Either way, it was entirely too distracting. “I don’t want to fight with you, Casey,” he said.

“I don’t want to fight with you either. I’m sorry; I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed here.” I turned to look at the building again, despite the sick feeling it gave me in the pit of my stomach. It was strange; it felt almost like I could taste that cloud of yuck even though I was only looking at it. “Okay, so whatever that thing is, it’s bad juju. I may just be a silly mortal, but even I can tell that.”

“It’s demon-tainted. That building.” He jerked his thumb toward it, turning his face away like he didn’t want to look anymore.

I nodded. It felt pretty surreal to be standing on the sidewalk and talking to a Sentinel about demon-tainted buildings all nonchalant-like, but the only other option was to pee on myself and run away screaming, and that wasn’t much of an option.

“What kind of building is it? I mean, what do they do there?” I asked, looking for a sign. The outside was so generic that it could have been anything: a gun factory, a porn studio, or maybe one of those places where they grow all kinds of drugs under a lot of really bright fluorescent lights. Now that I knew about the demon taint, the building’s lurking façade seemed even more sinister. A guy with a shopping cart walked past on the other side of the street, and I barely stopped myself from shouting a warning, like the building might pounce on him.

I looked up at Michael just in time to catch a pained look on his face. He didn’t say anything.

“Well?” I prodded. “What is it? You’ve got to tell me now. I can take it.”

He sighed.

“It’s a bobblehead factory.”

“You had me going for a minute there.” I leaned against a storefront, giggling. The mysterious black-cloaked building didn’t seem so menacing now that I knew it was a toy factory. “Demonic bobbleheads. Very funny.”

“I wasn’t kidding.” Michael scowled. “And it isn’t funny.”

“Aw, come on. There’s nothing threatening about an oversized noggin that goes like this all the time.” I wobbled my head around, grinning crazily and waving my arms. “I’m eeeeevil!”

“You think this is all a big joke, huh?”

“Well,
yeah
.” I gestured toward the factory. “I mean, you tell me it’s a demon factory, so I expect it to make something dangerous. Guns, maybe. Or drugs or hazardous chemicals that turn entire ecosystems into toxic sludge. Not bobbleheads. I
mean, how wimpy are these demons? They’re going to trinket all the humans into damnation?”

“Have you ever heard of soul jars?”

“No,” I said, still smirking. “Obviously not. Are you really trying to tell me this is serious?”

“Yes!” He threw up his hands. “People make deals with demons. The souls that don’t get consumed immediately are sent here, and they get imprisoned in soul jars shaped like bobbleheads, where they’re held until a demon gets hungry, and in the meantime, the imprisoned souls leak a nice spiritual taint into the area to make more people susceptible to making a deal. And then they’ll all get eaten! Isn’t that funny? Ha ha ha.” He barked fake laughter.

“Well, this is all pretty tough to swallow. Give me a break!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound it. “I’ll slow down a little.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to treat me like I’m stupid?” I knew I was being a little oversensitive, but I felt so overwhelmed, and he expected me to just nod and smile no matter how preposterous the whole thing got? I couldn’t do that. “If you’re going to talk down to me, I’m out of here.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Do you need me to take you home?” It probably would have been nice, but I was too proud to admit it. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Fine,” he repeated.

Michael stomped off, leaving me alone in the middle of Washington Street. I didn’t even watch him go; I whirled around and stalked in the other direction. Flaming wings or
not, the guy pissed me off. Did he expect me to fall down at his feet and take every word as gospel after he lit my wall on fire and popped me out of my body? At this point, I had every right to be rolling around on the floor and clutching my head. I’d listened much longer than the average person would have. Maybe because I was so desperate to find some identity for myself other than Girl in Remission.

The more I thought about it, the more aggravated I got. I deserved to approach things with a little healthy skepticism. Especially since it didn’t seem too far-fetched to think that maybe the mugger in the white suit and Michael were somehow related. One cried fire; the other sprouted it from his torso. Just one more reason why taking a step back was a good idea.

I made it about a half mile before a lanky guy in a do-rag and a huge pair of sagging pants stepped out in front of me. He held his arms out, blocking the sidewalk.

“Hey, baby,” he said, grinning. “Where you goin’?”

Then he reached out to grab me. I didn’t want to be grabbed.

I couldn’t help it. All the frustration I’d been carrying around leapt to my throat. I snatched his hand, locked the wrist, pushed, and turned. His own momentum carried him face-first into the ground with a grunt of pain.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted, releasing his hand and stepping over him.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarled. “You need to learn some manners.”

He swiped at my ankle, but I stomped down hard on his fingers and ran. I could hear him shouting, and other voices answering, and they shouted out the horrible things they wanted to do to me. I had no idea where I was, and I must have pulled a muscle because my side felt like someone had jammed a hot butter knife between my ribs, but I kept going as fast as I could.

Kyle started singing from inside the pocket of my jeans.

“Ra ah ah-ah-aah! Ra ma ra-ma-ma! Gaga! Oooh la la!”

It wasn’t really him, of course, just my cell. He’d made the mistake of serenading me with Lady Gaga one day while I was in the hospital, and I’d ended up setting it as my ringtone. I slowed in front of a McDonald’s and went inside.

“Hey,” I said, panting into the phone.

“Did I disturb something exciting?” Kyle yelled. “It sounds like you’re busy.”

“Just getting chased by random crackheads.” I tried to sound casual, but my casual setting must have been broken. It sounded like I was ready to cry instead. “What’s up?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“Why? Are you going to have someone hold them down while you beat them up?”

“It’s not my first choice, but yeah. If I have to.”

It was ridiculous, really, because Kyle had gotten into only two fights in his life, and he’d won the second one only because I’d showed up and bailed him out. Don’t even get me started on the first one. But still, when he said he’d stand up for me, I felt better.

“Thanks,” I said. “But it’s not necessary. What I need is a ride. Are you free?”

“Yeah, sure. I was just on my way to the park, but maybe you need to go home instead?”

I considered. What I really needed was some time away from Michael, so I could process everything that had just happened. Figure out what I thought about it.

“No,” I said, “the park sounds like a plan. Come get me.”