Demon Derby (25 page)

“Well, my attitude might suck, but at least I don’t intentionally trip my teammates.”

Her face went blank. Only a jumping muscle in her cheek showed how angry she really was. As if she had anything to be pissed about. I wasn’t the reason we were behind 47–40.

“You didn’t just accuse me of tripping you on purpose, did you?” she asked, all cold and deliberate. “Because that’s ridiculous. I might not like you, but I wouldn’t throw the bout. That’s stupid.”

“That’s what I thought about a millisecond after I vaulted over your leg. No way was that an accident.”

“Why not?” She threw up her hands. “Christ, it’s like you’re determined to make me the bad guy. And from the get-go, I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get killed. Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother.”

“No, you were trying to get rid of me because I threaten you. And that’s not even bringing up the part where I saved your ass from getting throttled.”

“What?”

“Why am I the only person who seems to remember this?” I sighed. “The parking lot at the Skate Lake? That random girl was beating the crap out of you until I intervened, and you didn’t even thank me.”

Her head drooped. “You don’t know the whole story.” For a split second, I thought we might have a bonding moment, and then she seemed to remember we were supposed to be fighting. Her head lifted, and she started in on me again. “Besides, I’m not the one who came through the bathroom door looking for a fight.”

By this time, we were face to face, and it was only a question
of who was going to throw the first punch. I didn’t know how things had escalated so quickly, but I knew it had to stop if we were ever going to be truly teammates. I took a deliberate step back, inhaling a long, cleansing breath. Maybe the trip really had been unintentional. Ruthanasia seemed like the kind of person who really liked to win; no way would she jeopardize the team’s standing because of her hatred of me. I’d jumped to conclusions once again.

“All right, all right.” I held up my hands, urging calm. “Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat.”

“Damn straight you shouldn’t have!” Her face was red with anger.

The door flew open and banged against the wall, saving us from further argument. Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. A pair of guys ambled in, and I called out, “Wrong bathroom, dudes,” before I got a good look at them. They looked like twins—with the same plasticky-looking, inhuman faces and expressions of gleeful menace. Demons, both of them. And from the looks of things, they’d stolen their hair from 1985. It was
feathered
.

“Oh, great,” I muttered, automatically reaching up to unclasp my necklace, which I’d finally gotten fixed. “It’s the attack of the demonic-hair band.”

“You’re in the wrong bathroom, losers,” Ruthanasia scoffed, stepping away from me. I edged in her direction, because I wasn’t going to abandon her to demons, no matter how much she ticked me off. Of course, she didn’t understand that. She glared at me.

The demons stopped side by side in front of the door, blocking our only exit.

“The Lord of the Flies—” said one of them.

“Was most displeased when you banished his servitor,” finished the other.

“Servitor?” I wrinkled my nose. “Do you mean 693 or the dog?”

“Silence!” they ordered.

Their mouths stretched like putty. The skin of their faces rippled, and I swore I saw hands underneath, pushing on the skin like they were trapped and wanted desperately to get out.

“Holy crap,” Ruthanasia said, her eyes widening. “What the heck is wrong with them?”

“They’re demons,” I said. Under different circumstances, she probably would have argued, but it was hard to debate their inhumanity. “This’ll protect you.” I shoved my necklace into her hands just as they charged. She looked down at it with shocked eyes.

“Wait. Demons?” she asked.

There was no time to explain. “Make for the door!” I yelled, grabbing her hand and towing her after me. She didn’t resist; I guess the one good thing about the freaky display they’d just put on was that it didn’t leave much room for argument. We accelerated as quickly as possible in the short space we had. The demons waited for us, their clothes swelling and undulating as their bodies struggled to contain all the nastiness inside.

Just before we reached them, I called out again. “Double knee slide!”

We dropped in perfect unison, sliding on our knee pads underneath their outstretched arms. I struck fast as I slid, hitting pressure points on the inside of the thigh. Those strikes would have dropped a human, but the demon didn’t even seem to notice.

I slammed into the door. I scrambled back onto my skates and put my back to the wall, Ruthanasia by my side. The demons leered, trying to frighten us into submission. Obviously they had no idea who they were dealing with.

“Get out of here.” I jerked my thumb toward the door behind us. “Get Michael.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” she said.

This was the last thing I needed. I flicked a scowl at her, and one of the demons took advantage of my momentary distraction and sprang. I heard Ruthanasia shout as I went down, cracking my head on the tile. The demon pinned me to the floor before I could regain my bearings, his feathered hair tickling my nose. His eyes glowed red, and a forked tongue darted out to taste the air.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ruthanasia and the other demon grappling on the floor only a few feet away. Its fangs were long and vampiric; it opened its mouth and displayed them to her, enjoying her muffled cry of fear.

I had to do something fast. All I needed was a second to focus my aching head, which was easier said than done when a demonic snake tongue was flapping in the air inches from my face. I’d made Relics so many times in my living room, but it was an awful lot harder in the middle of a fight for your life.
Those meditation exercises had seemed so stupid, so easy. But I would have gladly done a week’s worth of them right then if it meant I could chill out enough to make another Relic.

The demon leaned slowly toward me, enjoying the horror written all over my face. I was losing the struggle against panic; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Michael had been tough during training, but the fear and anger I felt completely eclipsed anything he’d put me through. It was more than I was prepared to handle.

But the only other choice I had was to concede defeat, and I wasn’t ready to do that. My hand groped along the floor, searching for something I could use as a distraction. If I had a minute to regroup, we might actually survive.

My fingers encountered a wet puddle on the floor. Under any other circumstances, I would have recoiled in disgust, but I didn’t have the time for that. I fought for focus. We were about to find out if I could make a Relic out of spilled toilet water. I got my hand nice and wet, sent up a little prayer to anybody that happened to be listening, and flicked shining white droplets right into the demon’s face.

The demon recoiled, shrieking, and it was so unexpected that I just lay there and watched it for a second when I should have been getting the heck out of the way. I probably would have been in a lot of trouble if he’d still had a face.

The demon was dissolving. Apparently you
can
make Relics out of potty water.

His entire head quickly crumbled as I watched. When it was gone, the body started to topple, and I put up my hands
to deflect it. It turned to ash when it hit them, spraying me in the face with powdered demon. I accidentally breathed in a big mouthful and began to cough and choke.

I rolled over onto my knees, hacking uncontrollably. My lungs burned; my eyes watered. And I could only wheeze as the remaining demon flipped Ruthanasia onto her back and pinned her there, opening its mouth wide to take a bite. Before I could even move a muscle, she shoved my necklace into the thing’s mouth. It didn’t even have time to shriek before it burst into incandescent flames.

She pushed away from it until she bumped into the wall. Then she wrapped her arms around her knees and began rocking back and forth.

“Ruthanasia.” I took her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“They … You …” She was shaking uncontrollably. It made me feel a little better about the fact that I was sick with delayed nerves.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay.”

We sat there for a few moments, clinging to each other. Strangely, it felt better having her there, especially considering that I’d been fully intending to pick a fight with her about ten minutes ago.

Finally she said, “So is this why you’ve been such a touchy wench all this time?”

“Um … yeah. The constant threat of demon attack will do that to you.”

I pushed myself up on shaky legs and wiped the demon bits off my face with a wet paper towel. As I did, something
crunched under my skates. My lucky katana necklace lay gleaming on the tile in the middle of a vaguely humanoid black splotch.

Ruthanasia picked up the necklace and put it in her pocket. I didn’t stop her. At this point, she needed it more than I did. They might come back for her once that fly lord guy learned that she’d banished one of his demons too.

“I think we’re okay now, aren’t we?” I asked.

“Definitely okay.” She took in a shaking breath. “Now hand me one of those towels so I can wipe this crap off my face. I’m not going back out there with demon slobber all over me.”

After we cleaned up, I told Ruthanasia she should go find some ice. One of her eyes was purpling; the demon had popped her a good one in the nose. At least her heavy eye makeup made it difficult to notice.

“You don’t want it to swell,” I said. “It’ll be hard to see, and we need you for the second half.”

“Screw the second half!” she exclaimed. “I want to know what’s going on!”

I couldn’t blame her, but I wanted to talk to Michael first. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her. And besides, I was wondering why he hadn’t shown up to help when the demons had attacked. He’d known something was wrong when I was fighting the demon dog. Was his Spidey sense broken, or did he just figure that my training wheels were off now?

“We’ll talk,” I promised, “but after the bout. Somewhere private. Right now, I think the best place for both of us is in the middle of a crowded room. It’s safer.”

She eyed me skeptically, but a quick glance at the scorch marks on the tile seemed to convince her.

“All right,” she said. “But if you don’t explain after the bout, I’m hunting you down and beating the answers out of you.”

“Deal.”

I opened the bathroom door and rolled out with her close behind. She had the look of somebody who accepts what they’re seeing only because they expect to wake up any minute. I knew how she felt. Sometimes I still expected to wake up, and I’d had some time to get used to it all.

Michael wasn’t in the locker room. Not on the bench or anywhere on the rink. And with each second that passed, I grew more and more nervous. He wouldn’t just abandon me, not willingly.

I dashed past the concession stands and tried to ignore the panic growing in the pit of my stomach, but it was a struggle. Michael could take care of himself. So why was I so freaking worried? I made myself relax, the chaos in my mind slowly settling. Yes, I lost valuable seconds by doing that, but it was quicker than dashing around aimlessly like an idiot.

Now I knew where to go. I could feel the electric tingle of the Between that he carried inside him. And if I could feel him, he was alive.

I went up.

Michael was on top of the convention center. The roof was probably easy to reach for those of us with handy dandy popout wings, but I had one heck of a time finding an access door that would get me up there. Thank goodness it was unlocked, because by that time I was ready to scream.

I carefully climbed the metallic, gridlike ladder up to the rooftop, placing my skates with deliberation. Stealth would have been advisable, but there was no way I could make it happen without losing valuable skate-removal minutes. Besides, that ladder was so loud that I couldn’t have snuck up on an eighty-year-old with a hearing aid. The roof was huge and mazelike, studded with random pipes and big concrete blocks with fans sticking out of the sides. But Michael wasn’t hard to spot. In fact, it would have been impossible to miss the flickering white outline of my not-quite-boyfriend with a sword of fire in his hands and a halo of light emanating from his body. Black forms tipped in red flames fell to his sword; the weapon danced to music I couldn’t hear. Sparks flew as he fought a small squadron of shadowy attackers. I tried to follow the battle, but it all happened at a speed that human eyes couldn’t process.