Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) (8 page)

Local:

Harrisport librarian charged, mental health a concern.

Local pet hoarder found dead, 200 cats. 

Entertainment:

Kat Von D engaged. Again?

An hour went by before Ian sat beside me, freshly showered and wearing a black military cut jacket, the collar upturned and framing his strong jaw. “How was it?” he asked.

“You were great. I mean, I couldn’t tell which one was you after all the helmets went on but I’m sure that you did a great job.”

“No, I mean, how was it being here. You seemed nervous about it.”

The sun was beginning to set, spraying veins of oranges and pinks beneath the stretches of cirrus clouds that accentuated the curvature of the sky. I thought about how I hadn’t really had anyone to talk to about Brian or the ghosts. At least Ian and I had shared a common, albeit freaky, trip through the matrix.

“I couldn’t go to his funeral,” I muttered. “Brian’s. I was awake after the accident but during my surgery, I slipped into a coma. For two weeks. My father buried him. The whole town apparently showed up. Just not me.”

“The two of you were close, huh?”

“Twinsies.” I laughed, trying hard not to cry.

“Let’s get out of here.” He took me by the hand and we walked away.

We ended up not far from the empty lot with the magical mystery tree, at a diner called McCloone’s, which was known for its short segment on one of those food channel specials about local eateries and their strange delicacies. 

“Try the mac and cheese,” I said as he scanned the menu. “It’s famous. Or the bluefish sandwich.”

“Mac and cheese it is.” He smiled. 

The restaurant was a throwback to a much earlier era. It had made its mark as a popular truck stop and kept to its roots by only making necessary improvements to its vintage chromed-out railcar housing. This meant that there were only about ten tables in all. Another few weeks and the place would be packed with tourists making stops along their fall-foliage driving tours.

The pink and blue neon lights of the sign outside streaked across the window pane and crept onto our booth. I hugged my tote while we waited for the waitress.

“You going to stay a while?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

“You’re still wearing your jacket. And by the way you’re clutching your bag, it looks like you’re gonna bolt any minute now.” His laugh was warm and deep. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I grinned and placed my bag down, along with my thin black windbreaker. “Habit.”

“Hey guys, what can I get you today?” our waitress, Missy, asked. She was wearing the new McCloone’s logo t-shirts that Harry the owner was making all the employees wear since making their national television debut. 

“The lady says I should try the mac and cheese,” Ian said, the ever-present grin on his face. 

“Good choice. What about you, Gem?” 

“I’ll have the cheeseburger, well done.”

She cringed. “Are you sure? You know how Harry gets when people ask for it that way.”

“Just tell him back there that I like it charred to perfection. And the customer is always right.” 

“Alright. But consider this fair warning if he comes running out the kitchen with a spatula.”

The three of us laughed as Missy went to put in our orders.

“So,” I started, “are we going to talk about the enormous elephant in the room?”

“Where?” He turned his head in surprise.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, if you’re talking about our little joy ride, it’s difficult to explain.” 

“Try me,” I said, leaning my elbow on the table.
Wow, his eyes are really magnificent.

“Suppose there are places in this world that are hidden from most. Other dimensions. And to see them you just have to know where to look.” He pulled a breadstick out from the small basket Missy had set before us. 

“So how did you find them?”

“Someone else showed me. Just like I showed you.”

“Why me?” I asked, as a flush of embarrassment warmed my cheeks.

“You seemed a bit lost. I thought you could use some fun.”

Missy interrupted us with our plates but quickly left to take care of a new patron. I took a bite of my food and thought about Ian’s last words. 

“You might be right,” I continued. “But I wasn’t always like this.”

“Losing family can do that.” He looked down at his food and struggled with some extra gooey strands of cheese.

I snorted the mouthful of water as I watched the goofy way he tried grasping at the unseen food hanging from his chin.

“So what about your family?” I moved on to my fries.

“What are you dipping your fries in?” he asked.

“Tartar sauce.”

“That’s just weird.” 

“This is a judgment-free zone,” I said, squaring off the width of our table, unable to control the fit of laughter that followed.

“I’m staying with my uncle for senior year. After that, who knows?” 

“I have no clue what I’m doing.” I stirred the straw around my cup aimlessly. “Brian always had the answers.”

“There is way too much pressure. How does anyone expect us to know what we’re going to do with our lives? Most thirty year olds can’t move out of their parent’s house.” He spoke with passion, which made him seem more mature for his age.

“At least you have an escape route.” I took another bite of my food and enjoyed the way it warmed my stomach.
They don’t call it comfort food for nothing.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll teach you everything I know. We’ll catch another trip soon.” 

The invitation left my mind filled with wild dreams that he would take me with him wherever it was he was going, and I was starting to feel free once again.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

The next day, for the first time in a long while, I woke up with a smile on my face. And then I felt guilty for it. I lingered in bed, savoring the pleasure of Saturday morning as I thought back to my evening with Ian; the small talk made over dessert and coffee, the walk home where I did most of the talking, and the tension as he walked me to the door. I sighed.
I should have just kissed him.

I caught up on some homework and tried my best to act normal for my father, who had decided to use one of his rare days away from the office to do yard work.

When my eyes began to cross at the sight of ellipses and hyperboles, I picked up the phone and called Charlotte. “Hey, I’m bored,” I said.

“You didn’t look too bored last night.”

“What does that mean?”

“Stop being so paranoid, Gem. I saw you and Ian walk into McCloone’s, that’s all.”

“It was nice. We talked. He walked me home.”

“Whatever it is, it’s good. At least it’ll give Matt a hint.”

“He’s been hanging on Allison ever since I told him off the other day. He’s over it.”

“I heard from Emma who heard from Candice, whose boyfriend Gage is on the team and overhead him telling Scott, that he was definitely going to get you back.”

“Fat chance.” I sighed. 

“Oh wow,” she squealed on the other end. “I just got two VIP passes to The Creeps tonight. You in?”

“That concert’s been sold out for months. Were you born with a lucky gene?”

“I know. I can’t believe it either,” she said, the pitch of her voice rising higher. “Sheila
just texted me saying she got into a fight with Patrick and that she only bought the stupid tickets because it’s his favorite band. Not hers.” 

“I think I’ll pass. It’s a long walk to Foxwoods.” Not even one of my favorite live acts could get me over my current vehicular phobia.

“Oh Gem, I wish you would tell me how I can help.”

“You’re doing just fine, Charlotte. Just be yourself,” I said. “Bye, Char.”

As soon as the conversation was over, I went to work practicing sigils, knowing that it was the type of busy work that kept my mind blissfully blank. The demonic world was filled with pretty strange names: Leviathan, Beelzebub, Gaap, Vual.

There was no way anyone could commit all the information to memory so I took great care in keeping my best sigils in a notebook, just as Mr. Flynn suggested. When it was break time, I walked over to the window and looked out as I stretched my neck. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a cluster of black shadows sailing across the tops of the trees.

I hope there really is something to all this. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.

On Monday, Mr. Flynn stopped me before homeroom. “I’d like you to stay after class today, Miss Pope.” His left eyebrow arched in anticipation of an answer.

“Sure,” I replied. “I just didn’t know what you wanted. I mean, Friday you weren’t really paying any attention to me.”

Great job running your mouth off, Gemma.

“Ah, attention.” There was amusement in his tone and I couldn’t look him in the eye as he stared down at me. “I gave you an assignment. I hope you’ve done your homework.” 

He walked into the classroom before I had a chance to redeem some of my pride. I stood in the hallway for a few minutes to regain my bearings. Mr. Flynn had a way of setting me off balance, and I kind of liked it.

Late that afternoon I was excited to show Mr. Flynn what I had been working on. Maybe it would make up for sounding like an idiot earlier.

“We need to find someone who’s gone a bit rogue,” Mr. Flynn said as he fingered the pages of the grimoire. 

“Rogue?” I asked.

“Flying under the radar. Not checking in with superiors. Toying with humans without following proper protocol. Avoiding contact with other demons of your rank.” He picked up the large book and moved to his desk, where he sat on the edge, keeping one foot on the ground.

“There’s protocol for tormenting people? Like paperwork?”

“Nothing like that, unless you’ve entered into a contract. But the Dybbuk are gaining strength and that kind of coordination could only mean they are getting support from down below. We need to find someone who’ll spill the beans.”

He was back to his giddy boyish self, rubbing his hands in excitement. I made a show of flipping through some of my practice sigils that I had worked on all day Sunday but in reality I was peeking through my fingers and checking out his ass as he reached over to his jacket.
Stop it, he’s a teacher. Not really, he’s student teaching, that’s different. Yeah, that’s so much different, Gemma.

“Is there some sort of demon social media page out there? We can check who hasn’t updated their status in a while.” 

“I’m afraid not.” He chuckled. “We’ve got to do it the old-fashioned way. A good old summoning.”

“Why would any of them help?”

“They aren’t automatons. Nor are they evil. They just happen to be on the side opposite of God’s.”

“Do tell. Sounds interesting and deeply philosophical.”

He grinned and pulled one of the desks in front of mine so that we faced each other. “When God created the world, it took him six days. The angels were jealous when He created man in His image. They were even angrier when He created the demons. Now they had two other species to contend with for His attention. The end of the sixth day drew near and He had only begun to form these beings. They were to be like angels, their counterparts. For every good deed a man did, there would be an angel praising him before the gates of heaven. Now there would also be demons monitoring evil doers and preventing unworthy souls from returning to the source. Between the angels and the demons, each soul would be judged fairly upon its return.

“But God didn’t have a chance to complete them soon enough. On the seventh day, God rested, leaving the creatures in an agonizing stasis. The angels thought God cruel for leaving divine beings in such a state. They were suffering at the expense of the humans and they worried that they too could be forsaken by Him for these inferior creatures that roamed the planet.

“The angels expected God to resume his work on Sunday. He didn’t. Days passed and He watched over Eden with fascination and did nothing else. A group of angels, Lucifer among them, was outraged. They insisted God complete His work but he refused. He said that man would not sin so gravely to deserve such harsh judgment. There would be no need for them. The angels argued that He granted humans free will and that in itself would be their downfall.

“ ‘It wouldn’t be fair,’ Lucifer argued, ‘to allow the demons to persist in their current form. Man will disappoint You. It is inevitable.’ 

“For that God hurled these rebellious angels to the Earth. Ultimately, He was forced to complete His work on the demons after Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit but by then the fallen angels had organized themselves, calling themselves the Watchers. Their mission was to maintain balance in the world by exploiting man’s faults and taking as many souls away from the source as they could, thus proving God wrong. They joined forces with the demons who, by now, were deeply embittered by their painful birth and happily submitted to the Watchers’ hierarchy. Watchers and demons have worked like that ever since. You could call that place hell - the opposite of returning to the source.”