Authors: Preston Norton
Up ahead, I spotted the nurse’s office. Both the main window and the smaller door window were streaked in blood. I didn’t even want to ask what happened in there, and Eli didn’t seem eager to tell. He avoided looking at it altogether.
Something humanlike smacked against the nurse’s window, snarling.
I screamed and jumped away. A distorted middle-aged male face pressed against the glass, smearing blood that appeared all too fresh. His teeth gnashed, animal-like, as if trying to bite through the glass. Most disturbing of all were his eyes—bloodshot with faded milky irises.
It was Mr. Garrison.
“It’s okay,” said Eli. He grabbed my hand. “He’s locked in there. He can’t get out.”
“What the fuck?” I asked, which I suppose isn’t really a question, or if it is, it’s a really ambiguous one.
Despite asking, I had already come to my own scary conclusions. Zoey had made me watch one too many Romero films not to.
“The nurse said he was dead,” said Eli. “No pulse. Nothing. And then he killed her.”
Another face—this one female—smacked against the glass, snarling and screaming. There was nothing feminine about her violent bloodthirsty thrashing.
“She stayed dead for about as long as he did.”
20
Leader of the Coven
As if Demon-slaying wasn’t enough. Now the school stoner had to go and start a zombie apocalypse.
So what kind of Demon did that make Bill? Or Belphegor or whoever the hell he was? And then there was that thing he said that made my insides squirm. Mr. Garrison wasn’t the first and that he wouldn’t be the last. He bit someone else? Did that mean there was another zombie roaming around school? It seemed unlikely that another one of these things could have gone unnoticed for four days straight, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down.
I pulled my gaze away as the two undead creatures slid their snarling faces across the bloody glass.
“They’re the only two like that,” said Eli.
Ha. As far as he knew.
Gently grabbing my shoulders, he directed me away from the nurse’s office, and we proceeded down the hall.
“A lot of us think the only reason we’re still quarantined is because no one knows where Bill is. They set up all these security cameras for a reason. But once they see that this virus isn’t spreading—that we’ve contained it—they have to let us go. I mean, they have to!”
Bullshit. Surely those security cameras saw Bill turn into fucking Skeletor right before he me hari-kari his ass.
“How can police get away with shooting
kids
like this?” I said.
“It’s not just police. There’re a bunch of government-types in black suits too. Like…I dunno…CIA or something.”
Who the hell were these government whack-jobs? These bastards
knew
a quarantine was happening. How? Did they know about the Demons?
There were teenage voices up ahead. It was hardly the sound one would expect from an occupied high school gymnasium. The voices were hushed. The conversations solemn. The sound was funeralesque in the most literal sense possible.
We entered the gym which was practically barren. Some students were by themselves, staring blankly into space because that was clearly better than staring into reality. Others were clustered together in groups, although even these were relatively sparse in the conversation department. And then there were plenty of others who were sprawled out across blue fitness mats that had been scattered across the gym, attempting to sleep away the nightmare that had become real life. Not exactly the best sleeping accommodations, but it was apparently the best the school had to offer.
Just the sight of it made me sleepy.
God, why was I so tired? I shook my head desperately to wake myself up.
I returned my focus to the gymnasium occupants. Though I recognized a few faces, I hardly knew any of them well. Zoey was my top priority, and I quickly concluded that she was not here. Eli understood my unspoken agenda and proceeded to escort me to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was much livelier.
“I’m warning you, fatass! Stay away from the food!”
This came from a student that Eli seemed to recognize regretfully—a fellow footballer, still wearing his black and red jersey. Eli dropped his head slightly, rubbing his eyes. “Devon,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’m hungry,” said another voice which was actually more of a I-just-woke-up-from-hibernation-and-I-want-a-fucking-moose-burger bear roar.
That voice—husky, furious, intimidating, and yet with a childlike innocence—came from the largest thing in the room: Bubba the janitor. The three-hundred-pound anomaly was barely contained in his blue food-stained jumpsuit. His curly dark hair was even greasier than usual, flat against the beaded sweat of his forehead. His mutton chop sideburns sank against unusually sallow cheeks. His usual plump face was sickly. He seemed to be suffering more than others from the circumstances.
“Listen to me, you fat fuck,” said Devon. “You’ve been eating more than anyone else. If we’re all stuck in here together, then we’re going to eat the same amount of food. We’re not going to starve to death in here because of you. We’re starting your diet today, fatso.”
Though Devon’s tact left something to be desired, he had a point. Who knew how long we’d be locked in here? And if worst came to worst, and we were quarantined here for weeks or even months, then we needed the food to last.
“I’m hungry!” said Bubba, more hostile than ever. Lurching forward, his thick legs carried him directly to where Devon stood, blocking the entry to the kitchen. “Let. Me. THROUGH.”
Several other solid teenage boys stepped to Devon’s aid. The rest of the football team, I assumed. Joining Devon’s ranks, they formed a formidable barrier.
“Over my dead body,” said Devon.
For several long seconds, Bubba and Devon stared each other down. Finally, Bubba relented. With a snort, the humongous janitor shuffled off. At this point, the confrontation had garnered a sizeable audience. Whispers ushered throughout the crowd.
“Monica?”
I knew that voice anywhere. Eli and I both whipped around to find Zoey standing directly behind us. Her blue-streaked hair hung halfway over her stunned face. After four days without a change of clothes, the runaway thrift store style was looking more tattered than ever. Her hands hung limp at her side. But only for a moment.
“I told you to keep her out of her!” she hissed—both discreet and furious—pointing an accusing finger at Eli.
Eli’s mouth floundered open.
“Come with me,” said Zoey. She snatched me by the arm before I could even will myself to comply. As frantic as she looked, she kept her voice down, making it clear that she wanted to go unnoticed. Eli started to follow, but Zoey pointed her finger at him with so much hostility, it might as well have been the barrel of a gun. “You! Stay!”
Eli owned that hurt puppy dog look, and he stayed just as well. Zoey hurried through the crowds and out of the cafeteria while I whipped from behind. I felt like a water skier attached to a speed boat pimped out with nitro boosters. If I escaped this without my arm getting yanked out of its socket, I would consider this a success.
“Ow!” I said “Where are we going?!”
“Somewhere private.”
For a second, I was worried that she might be dragging me past the dead bodies at the entrance. Much to my relief, our speedy jaunt through the hallway ended at the girls’ bathroom. However, my relief quickly transformed to embarrassment as Zoey dragged me into a bathroom stall with her, hastily sliding the lock shut. I nearly fell onto the toilet seat in the process.
“You know, the bathroom is empty,” I said. I struggled to move so the toilet wasn’t poking at my calves, and together we repositioned ourselves. “Would you mind telling me why we’re sharing a stall?”
“I don’t like those cameras watching me,” said Zoey. She glanced at the upper edge of the stall.
“They have cameras in the bathroom? Isn’t that illegal?”
“What exactly about this whole situation strikes you as legal?”
Hmm. Good point.
“Now my turn,” said Zoey. “Would you mind telling me why the
hell
Amon was after you?”
Oh great. That didn’t take long. I hastily racked my brain for a decent lie, but the words weren’t processing. In that split second of deliberation, I decided to take the offensive.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a witch?”
“How…how’d you know?” said Zoey. And then her eyes lit up. “You’re a witch too! Aren’t you?”
“A witch? Why the hell would
I
be a witch?”
“Amon used me as hostage for you. My coven suspects that you killed him, and with you being alive… Well, shit. There’s no way you could take him on if you weren’t a witch.”
“I’m
not
a witch.”
“Well then what are you? How did you survive Amon? Did you…kill him?”
“I saved your life. You should be answering
my
questions.”
“You saved my life because Amon took me as hostage
because
of you!” Zoey shot back. “And I saved your life too. Whoever else is after you could have easily killed you off while you were unconscious in the hallway. There
are
others after you, right? My coven seems to think so.”
Zoey and I stared each other down in the bathroom stall in the most awkward standoff of all time. I think we both realized it. Both of our expressions softened slightly. No matter what Zoey was, there was no denying the fact that I
had
unintentionally dragged her into this mess. And she
had
saved my life in return. If there was another Demon lurking around this school, I would no doubt be dead if she and Eli hadn’t dragged my comatose ass somewhere safe.
“We’re best friends,” said Zoey. “Just tell me what’s going on. And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” She lifted her right fist with her pinky extended. “Promise.”
After all that had happened, Zoey was about the only human being on the planet I felt I could make such a compromise with. Lifting my right hand, I locked pinkies with her.
“You’re not going to believe me,” I said.
“You just accused me of being a witch, and I haven’t denied it. Not to mention we have two zombies locked in the nurse’s office. Try me.”
I sighed. “I’m a Demon Slayer.”
“Oh, come on, Monica!” Zoey rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious here. The least you could do is show me the common courtesy of not mocking m—”
I extended my hand away from Zoey, and the Demon Dagger materialized in my grasp, laced in swirling black mist.
Zoey’s sentence came to an abrupt halt, and her mouth was left gaping.
“Holy shit.”
“This is the only weapon that can kill a Demon,” I said. “It was the only way I could kill Amon and Bill.”
I opened my palm, and the Demon Dagger vanished in another puff of black vapor.
“Amon…was a
Demon
?” said Zoey. “And Bill? You mean you killed…?”
“His name was actually Belphegor. And yes, I killed him. Well, sort of.”
Zoey’s confusion was an unparalleled facial meltdown.
I started my story at the beginning: the first time I saw Dante, watching me through the restaurant window. I told her everything. Including the less than pleasant details of her life-crush, Casey, and his central involvement in all this. The only detail I skipped was my
completely
impertinent feelings for Dante. If I was trying to validate myself as a Demon Slayer, it was probably best that I didn’t mention the possibility that I kinda liked one.
“And then I woke up,” I said. “Four days later, apparently.”
Zoey blinked, still speechless. “Demons.”
Oh Jesus. This was going over well. “Yep. Demons.”
“Okay…” said Zoey, pursing her lips. “So…how many more are there?”
“At least three more,” I said. “The two that attacked Dante at Hexham Manor, Lucifer Asmodeus, and…”
My voice fell dead in my throat. I had skipped over a very important detail—one that related very closely to Zoey. The last Demon—Mammon. Dante had called him the Witch King—a Demon that
made
witches.
“Who’s the leader of your coven?” I asked. My tone may or may not have been completely hysterical.
“What? Why? What are you freaking out about?”
“Because the leader of your coven is either being led by a Demon named Mammon…or
is
Mammon.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “Mammon?”
“The Witch King,” I clarified. “Dante said his job as a Demon is to give witches their power for his own greedy purposes.”
“Oh shit,” said Zoey.. “If you’re right…? Oh shit oh shit oh shit. This is bad.”
“Who is it?”
Zoey bit her lip. “It’s Principal Marion.”
21
Scary Stories
“Principal Marion is a WITCH?” I said
“Shit, Monica,” said Zoey. “Principal Marion is
the
witch. Our entire coven learned the craft from her.”
I didn’t like it. Almost as much as I didn’t like my best friend casually using bullshit witch slang.
“How many witches are locked in here with us?” I asked.
“I’m the only witch still in high school,” said Zoey with a smirk. She was never one to let bragging rights go to waste. “Which means if she is that Demon, this quarantine is the time to take her down.”
“Where is she?”
Zoey’s expression dropped. “In her office.”
I watched her change of countenance uncertainly. “What’s that look for?”
“She and all of the teachers barricaded themselves inside her office. All the students think she just locked the door real good…but I can tell. She used magic to seal it shut.”
“Can you open it?”
“I think so.” said Zoey. Concern flickered in her eyes. “Prinicpal Marion convinced the other teachers to barricade themselves in there with her. She said it was to keep them safe from us. Said all this bullshit about student anarchy. But if she’s a Demon…”
I understood her concern. Whatever Principal Marion’s true intentions were, it couldn’t mean anything good for the teachers locked in with her.
“I need to break into that office,” I said. “Tonight.”
“You?” There was a hint of offense in her tone. “You mean ‘we.’”
“You think you can fight a Demon?”
“Hey, I’m a witch. I can hold my own. What about you. I mean, sure you can summon a magic Demon sword and shit, but last I remember, you had the coordination and reflexes of a senior citizen doped up on NyQuil.”
It was time for a little Show and Tell.
***
We took Show and Tell back to the theater storage loft. Together, we pushed most of the junk aside. Zoey hauled a mannequin out from the clutter and into the open space.
“Here’s our demon,” she said, plopping it at the circle’s edge. “I’m naming him Alfred.”
“Really, Zoey? Naming things right before we destroy them? That’s a little messed up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. So who gets to kill Alfred first?”
“You can go. There won’t be anything left of Alfred by the time I’m through with him.”
“Somebody’s confident. Hmm. Sounds like I should bake some HUMBLE PIE!”
As she overzealously exclaimed this last part, she swiftly removed a lighter from her pocket, flicked it open, and ignited a small flame. With her free hand, she raised it over the lighter and lifted higher. The flame swirled into a ball of fire, roaring and raging in a concentrated sphere. By the time her hand stopped, it was the size of a basketball. Even from where I stood, I could feel the sudden heat. With a thrust of her free hand, the sphere erupted forward, engulfing the mannequin. The girl was a human blow torch. As she pulled back, the flame died. Alfred was blackened and his shape was slightly warped now. She blew the smoke from her lighter like some cowboy with a six shooter.
“Humble pie,” I said, acknowledging the scorched mannequin a nod. “It looks a little burnt.”
“I like my pie extra crispy.”
I’m sure I could’ve seemed a little more impressed with her powers. Under any other circumstance, I would have been. However, something else was itching my curiosity, begging to be scratched.
“So is that how you and Eli get things heated up?” I asked.
Yes, it was a terrible pun. I didn’t care.
If my question had been accompanied by a pair of headlights, Zoey would have easily put any deer to shame. Her face completely blanked out.
“What?” she said after a moment of silence that spoke for itself.
“Oh come on. I know you two have a thing. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“He told you?”
“I interrogated it out of him. Jack-Bauer-style. It wasn’t very hard.”
“Okay, whatever, it’s no biggie,” said Zoey, even though she was consciously avoiding eye-contact. “It’s just a fling. Not even that. Honestly, the whole thing is more a show than anything else.”
“He’s cute,” I said, nudging her with a smile.
“You think so?” Her expression flinched.
“Of course. I just don’t know why you had to blow it by telling him about your lifelong Casey crush.”
“Yeah,” said Zoey. “Funny, ‘cause that’s kind of how this whole thing started.”
I raised a confused eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well…he kinda has a…similar…crush.”
My jaw dropped. Similar crush?
Casey!
“Oh, nuh-uh.” I shook my head. “You mean he…he’s…?”
Zoey grimaced. “Yep.”
“He’s gay?”
“Wait, what? No, you dummy! He has a crush on you!”
Zoey’s abrupt declaration roundhouse kicked me in the cerebral cortex. I stared back at her in a blank stupor.
“Oh shit,” said Zoey, covering her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
I wished she hadn’t told me. I now found myself analyzing everything Eli had ever said to me. It all suddenly took on an entirely new context and meaning. Holy shit! I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
“We both had crushes on Binsfelds,” said Zoey. I watched her shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “He liked you, and I liked your brother. We talked about it a bit. That’s how this whole stupid thing started. Promise me you won’t tell Eli I told you.”
“Huh?” I said. Her plea caught me off guard. “Oh. Yeah. I promise.”
There was a moment of long, awkward silence between us.
“So…” said Zoey. “It’s your turn now.”
Thank you, subject change.
This definitely wasn’t the same as sparring in the woods with Dante. He always had a way of fueling me in battle. So instead, I imagined Amon’s smug human face on the mannequin. Amon, who killed Cate. Who kidnapped Zoey. Who nearly killed my brother.
The fury came all too easily. I lunged at the mannequin. Mid-swing, the Demon Dagger materialized in my grasp. I sliced and stabbed, dancing and spinning around the target in effortless motion. Only a few seconds later, I slid to a halt, already breaking a sweat. Alfred stood in one piece…but only for a second. The mannequin collapsed to the floor in clean-sliced pieces.
“Holy shit, Jackie Chan,” said Zoey. She gawked at the mutilated plastic remains of Alfred. Her mesmerized gaze locked on to mine. “Monica, your eyes!”
It took a second for her comment to register. I already knew what to expect as I glanced at a nearby mirror crowded in the stage props.
My eyes were yellow and animal-like.
“Yeah …” I said. “About that. I have one more trick to show you. But first I have to take off my clothes.”
***
I will be the first to say that we, teenagers, are weird. We tend to make the worst out of not-so-bad situations (how often have we heard of prom turning into the worst day ever?), but in horrible situations like this (as if any other horrible situation could compare to a high school zombie quarantine with an underlying Demon plot in the mix), somehow we manage to make the most of it.
“I seriously cannot believe we’re actually doing this,” said Kelly. “Am I the only one who thinks this is ridiculous?”
Levi clicked his flashlight on. It illuminated his glasses, curly brown hair, and goofy smile. “You kidding? This is awesome. What kid doesn’t dream about telling ghost stories in a real-life high-school-wide slumber party?”
Eli, Zoey, and I exchanged speechless glances.
Levi had organized the five of us into a circle sitting Indian-style in the center of the gymnasium. The very moment he forced us into position, he snapped a picture with the bulky camera around his neck. Somehow I didn’t think this one would be making it into the yearbook.
Zoey leaned into my ear and whispered, “How exactly are we gonna take of Principal Marion if we’re having story time with Levi?”
“Let’s just humor him,” I whispered. “We’ll have plenty of time tonight when things settle down.”
“Well aren’t you man’s best friend.”
After showing Zoey my werewolf form, I wondered just how long she’d keep the dog jokes coming.
Speaking of which… If I gained
that
power after defeating Amon, did I obtain a similar power for killing Belphegor?
The power to bite people and turn them into zombies perhaps? Ugh. I sure hoped not.
“So who wants to go first?” asked Levi. He lifted the flashlight like an Olympic torch.
Kelly, Eli, Zoey and I exchanged doubtful glances.
“Well don’t everyone volunteer at once. Fine, I’ll start—the legend of Hexham Hell House.”
Returning the flashlight to his face, Levi attempted to say this last part in his scariest voice. It was actually slightly funny.
“I’ve heard like a million different versions of this story,” said Kelly, rolling her eyes.
“Well this is the real version, so hush,” said Levi. He cleared his throat and then mustered his most sinister tone. “The Hexham’s lived in that house up until over a decade and a half ago. They were a family of seven: Dr. Hexham, his wife, and their five children. Dr. Hexham was a scholar of religious studies, and he was also a priest, and even a certified exorcist. He became an active exorcist in the seventies when the demand for exorcisms in the United States skyrocketed. The vast majority of these cases weren’t real though, and Dr. Hexham began to doubt the validity of his cause. All that changed with one call. A woman—a self-professed witch—claimed that her newborn child was possessed.”
Zoey perked up at the mention of a witch.
“Dr. Hexham accepted the case and admitted the woman and her baby into his home that night,” said Levi. “Even though the baby was a newborn, it was making terrifying sounds and speaking evil words that no newborn child should ever have been capable of. Dr. Hexham started performing the exorcism but noticed the woman was crying now more than ever. When Dr. Hexham asked what was wrong, the woman said that she was the one who summoned the spirit that now possessed her child. Not only that, but she said that the spirit she summoned was the only son of the actual Devil. She told him that it was impossible to simply exorcise what she had summoned from Hell. Dr. Hexham shrugged her claims aside and continued with the exorcising ritual. However, the woman began initiating black magic of her own to destroy the evil possessing her child—even if it meant the death of her baby as well. Whether it was the exorcism or the witch curse, no one knows, but the baby was freed from the spirit. This came at a severe cost though. The woman left with her saved child, but Dr. Hexham and his entire family were somehow possessed by the same entity that had been inside the baby. It is rumored that the power of the exorcism and the magic of her curse collided and split the spirit into seven coexistent fragments. Seven remnants of the son of the Devil. But whatever the case, the entire Hexham family killed each other off. And that woman and her baby were never seen again.”
Okay, Levi was a little too good at this scary story thing. The little hairs on my neck and arms were prickling.
Levi clicked the flashlight off, and even in the dark, his typical perky smile was unmistakable. “Okay, who’s next?”
“Oh my god, Levi,” said Kelly. “You’re not allowed to tell any more scary stories.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” said Zoey. “Who’d a thunk bright and shiny Levi was actually a twisted little horror fuck on the inside?”
“Hey, I said we were telling scary stories,” said Levi. “What’d you expect?”
“Maybe a story about your camera breaking?” said Eli.
Everyone laughed. Even I couldn’t resist.
“Har har har,” said Levi. “So does anybody else have a story? How about you, Monica? I bet you’ve got something.”
Before I could respond, a female voice intervened. “Hey, can we join in?”
Ironically, it was a voice that we all recognized. Our shocked expressions seemed to be split five ways. Levi flipped the flashlight back on as Lillith Hartley approached, still decked out in her cheerleading outfit. Lucy—dressed much more conservatively—followed but with growing distance and tangible irritation.
“Seriously?” said Levi. He raised an eyebrow but refused to drop his impossibly cheerful visage.
“Yeah, seriously?” said Lucy. She scrunched her nose.
“You’re telling ghost stories, right?” asked Lillith. “I wanna join in. Come on, sis. It’ll be fun.”
Lillith snatched her twin by the hand, and together they plopped down between me and Zoey. Zoey and I backed away hastily to make room. Everyone scooted and shifted to accommodate.
“I’ll go first,” said Lillith before Levi even had a chance to ask.
Levi nodded and passed the flashlight. “It’s all yours.”
Lillith proceeded to clear her throat in her obnoxious cheerleader way, positioning the flashlight against her face for effect. Meanwhile, Lucy rolled her eyes, clearly wondering how she had been sucked into this.
“Once upon a time…there was a werewolf,” said Lillith in a ridiculous attempt to sound scary.
Zoey and I exchanged amused glances.
“He killed people like most werewolves do,” she said. “But that didn’t stop one girl from falling in love with him. In fact, his rage was part of what she loved in him. You see, even though she looked like a normal girl, she was actually a monster like him.”
My smile slowly faded. I remembered all too clearly a conversation I had had with Dante after the chaos at Hexham Manor.
“Now this werewolf was a loner, distancing himself from the other monsters like himself,” said Lillith. “However, he and the girl soon developed a bond that transcended description. Their love was otherworldly. But all that changed when another girl came into the picture.”
Lillith glanced all too knowingly at me, allowing a dramatic pause that caused my throat to tense up. Dante told me about Asmodeus. A succubus. A sex Demon.
Asmodeus was Amon’s lover. I’d count on her trying to kill you next.
“This new girl was a hunter,” said Lillith. “She killed monsters, thinking it was okay because they were just monsters. What she didn’t realize is that she was a monster. She had taken away from the first girl the most important thing to her. And so, the first girl decided to hunt the hunter. She killed the hunter girl. And then she killed everyone the hunter girl ever loved.”