Authors: Preston Norton
Demonica (24 page)
“Immediately,” said Eli, grinning. “Monica is lucky to have you. And, being a friend of Monica’s, I have to say that you’re quite the lucky man too.”
“Yeah…tell me about it,” I said. I was staring at my shaking hands.
“She’s a great kisser.”
“Wait…what?”
My head snapped up, and Eli was suddenly standing right in front of me. He tapped his finger against my forehead, and everything flashed white.
37
To Hell and Back
It was the weirdest fucking thing.
He stood outside the restaurant window. Shadowy hair swept with untidy perfection from his scalp. He looked only slightly older than me—Seventeen? Eighteen tops?—but wore a crisp black suit with a loose matching tie hanging from his unbuttoned collar. A tight-lipped smile sliced across his face. And then there were these eyes, I shit you not, this intense shade of blue like the entire goddamn Arctic Ocean captured in two penetrating orbs.
He was staring directly at me.
And then the memories came. They poured. Flooded. Consumed me.
My fork went limp in my hand. “Dante?”
“Monica, are you okay? Who’s Dante?”
I glanced across the booth. Casey was sitting across from me, visibly concerned. We each had half-eaten bowls of pasta in front of us. I leaned back, absorbing my impossible surroundings. We were in Leonardo’s Italian Restaurant. This was more than just déjà vu.
Had I just gone back in time?
Everything. It was still so vivid. Demons, zombies, witches. Even the Gateway to Hell. Even…
I dropped my fork.
I had died.
I raised my hand to my chest where I had stabbed myself. I felt my heart beating. I wasn’t dead. This was real. Shit. It had to be real!
“Monica?” said Casey. He raised an auburn eyebrow. “Seriously, you’re starting to scare me.”
Memories of Dante hit me last and strongest of all. I could still taste the frosty breath of his last kiss.
I glanced back at the far window of Leonardo’s. Dante hadn’t disappeared. He was still standing there. Still smiling.
Even in my vast archive of impossible memories, I had never seen him smile like this.
Casey followed my gaze skeptically to the window. “You know that guy?”
His confusion was real, drawing lines in his forehead. He didn’t remember Dante at all.
“I gotta go.”
I bolted from the booth, leaving Casey open-mouthed. I rushed past several startled diners and burst through the door. A mild wind passed through me, stealing my frantic breath.
Dante was still there—clearly enjoying my incomprehensibility.
“Dante!” I said. “What…? How…?”
The ability to form words into coherent sentences was hopeless.
“I have something I need to tell you,” he said. He stepped up to me and placed a gentle hand on my face. Then he kissed me. His scent filled me. The billions of questions racing through my mind suddenly fell into a world of weightlessness—carried in a soft wind like snowflakes. His lips pulled away. I felt his breath as he leaned close to my ear.
“I love you too,” he said.
He pulled away. His beautiful blue eyes met mine, containing the very essence of sincerity in their spheres. Happiness was a tangible thing in his eyes, in his smile, in the way that he absorbed each breath and cherished it.
“Dante…how am I still alive?” I said. “How are we here?”
Dante returned to his usual smirk and shrugged casually. “Well, not to sound cliché or anything…but I guess you could say I went to Hell and back for you.”
About the Author:
Preston Norton is a connoisseur of all things scary. However, the only thing that truly terrifies him is the idea of getting a “real” job. Preston lives in a part of Texas where chainsaw massacres are less common.
Blüd and Magick
Born from the ashes of the most fierce and powerful entity in all of Trivaesia, Darla was sent to grow up in the outside world with no knowledge of where she came from. When she finds herself wielding new power, she must decide which part of her will rule her heart---the evil from which she was born or the good by which she was raised.