Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga) (16 page)

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied. “I guess at the time I thought drawing the drapes might keep him out. That was before I knew the power of a hexagram.”

“Hexagram?”

“That’s what they call this funny little circle I drew on the floor. Very similar to the one they used last night, but that one’s called a pentagram. This one wards off evil. You guys should probably get inside. You’ll be safe in here.” I signaled for them to join me inside the circle.

They didn’t move.

“Are you going to explain this to us?” Matt demanded, still looking around.

“You mean the crosses? It’s hard to get a good crucifix at an all-night Seven-Eleven. Those were the best I could come up with at three in the morning.”

“Oo-kay,” he drawled. “But what are they for? What’s the emergency you called us about?”

“Check it out,” I called without looking up.

They came over, joining me inside the circle. They peered at the computer screen. It was a website called
Signs And Symbols of Satan
. “Recognize that?” I said pointing. “I thought it was a peace sign when I first saw the ring on Armando’s finger. Boy, was I wrong.” I shook my head and chuckled. It was a low, derisive laugh that emanated from deep inside me.

“I sure hope this is some kind of joke,” Erin said, “because you’re scaring me.” Her voice trembled, her face a mask of concern.

“No. No joke. I wish it was. Armando’s peace sign ring, the one he said he got at the old Woodstock farm, is not a peace sign at all. It’s the sign of the devil.”

Matt let out a long exasperated sigh. “So, this is about Armando again?”

I looked him in the eye. “I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong with him. Drug dealer. Gun runner. Gigolo. I never would have guessed Satan. Not in a million years.” I pointed to the next symbol on screen. “See that? That’s called an Udjat. He was wearing that around his neck at the ritual last night. See what it says:
one of the few symbols referring to Satan, king of hell.”

“Are you telling us Armando is the devil?” Matt was trying to remain calm, but from the sound of his voice, he thought I was losing my mind.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He and Erin exchanged a glance, and I could see my worst fears on both their faces.

“Go,” I said softly. “I know what you think. And you have every reason to think it. I know it sounds crazy.”

Tears welled up in Erin’s eyes. Through them I saw eight years of friendship slipping away. They say
the truth shall set you free
. But my truth was a prison that isolated me from them.

“Does Suze know about this?” she asked, the first tears streaking her cheeks.

“No. And I’m asking you as my very best friends not to tell her, at least not for a few days. If I can’t convince you in a week that what I say is true, that I’m not insane, then by all means tell her. But give me that time.”

I recounted my tale of the previous night: my trip to the art gallery, the meeting at Armando’s house, Señora Marisol miraculously turning young, Armando’s eyes glowing as he levitated off the floor. Throughout the telling they eyed me as if I was mad.  A day earlier I’d have done the same.

“So let me get this straight. Satan has come to earth and chosen your mother to be his girlfriend?” Matt’s words were laced with disbelief.

“What? Are you saying my mother’s not good enough to date the devil?”

A look passed between them. I know. Nutty as a fruitcake.

It was only after they’d left for school that I allowed myself to think about Guy. I was in such a frenzy when I ran from the house, I hadn’t given him a second thought. I now realized he wasn’t anywhere out front when I came out. We would have seen each other.

They got him.  

A certain dread came over me. Guy would not have left me. The Satanists had gotten him and were probably using him as a subject in one of their demonic rituals. I regretted ever asking him to wait for me.  

I checked my phone to see if he had called or texted. Nothing. 

They got him and it’s all my fault,
I thought, as I sent a frantic text.  I didn’t expect an answer. I didn’t get one.

#

Suze slept in, so she had no idea I didn’t go to school until around ten a.m. when she rose to go to work. I told her I wasn’t feeling very well. “A touch of food poisoning,” I said. “Must’ve been the buffalo wings I had for dinner.”
If only…

She chastised me for not eating healthy. “I’m going to be late again tonight. Promise me you’ll have something nutritious for dinner.”

“I will,” I assured. She didn’t notice the tiny cross I’d taken to wearing earlier that morning, or that my eyes were bloodshot from being up all night,
or
that I made sure she didn’t go near my room. After she left, I went back upstairs and dragged my old sleeping bag inside the hexagram. Only then did I allow myself the luxury of sleep.

#

I awoke with a start. My cell phone was on the floor next to me, vibrating away.

“Hello.”

“There you are.”

The sound of my beating heart filled the room. “Guy.” I was suddenly full awake. “Guy, is that really you?”

“Yeah,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling. “Sounds like you missed me.”

“I need to see you.” The tension drained from my shoulders.
He’s safe,
I thought.
Thank God, he’s safe.

“Can’t right now,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t see you come out last night.”

I looked around the room that had once been quite orderly, to the disheveled mess of my furniture dragged into the middle of the floor, the crosses hanging every which way from the walls and ceiling.

“I’m fine.” I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth over the phone, not if I ever wanted to see him again. “I don’t know how we missed each other.”

“I guess I do. Had to go to the bathroom. Sorry about that. By the time I got back the place was locked up tight. Looked like everyone had gone home. So, did you confront him?”

“No. The time wasn’t right.” I changed the subject. “I really need to see you,” I repeated.

The drapes were still drawn and the room was bathed in shadow, which is exactly how I felt, as if a cloud of darkness had been cast over my life.

“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’ll see you at school.”

The darkness increased. “Sure,” I said, trying to be brave. There was nothing anyone could do between now and tomorrow anyway. “You take care of yourself. I’m glad you’re safe.”

He laughed. “I like the way you say that. Sounds like you really mean it.”

I smiled for the first time in a long time. His arrogance was shining through, and I have to admit, it comforted me. “I do.”

“Meet me in our stairwell between first and second periods?”

Ah, our stairwell.
I had longed to once again be alone in the stairwell with him. Now the thought of his arms around me, his lips on mine, conjured no special feeling. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Righteeo,” he said, and signed off.

Sleep had cleared away the cobwebs in my brain. Now that I was thinking clearly again, I had to come up with a plan. I had one week to convince my friends that Armando was the devil before they told my mother. One week before word got out that Megan Lillith Barnett had gone bananas.

Matt was standing at my door, a stack of papers under his arm. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was out, the birds were singing. Until then, I hadn’t realized what a beautiful day it was outside. Inside, not so pretty.

“Hey,” he said, his face expressionless. I was surprised to see him and I guess it showed. “We’ve been best friends since kindergarten. I’m not gonna desert you, Megan.”

My emotions were beginning to stir. When he and Erin walked out the door this morning, I was certain I’d lost my friends forever.

“Thanks,” I said. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. Come in.”

My hair was a mess. I pulled it back into a pony tail, cinching it with a rubber band. It’s not the way I’d allow most boys to see me, but Matt was like a brother.

We wound up in the kitchen, Matt at his favorite spot leaning against the counter, the Cheerios dispenser in his hand. He small-talked briefly about school and track practice, avoiding the subject for as long as possible.

“I know how I must have sounded this morning, and I apologize for that. I hadn’t slept,” I said softly. I poured myself a glass of cold water from the fridge. As I sipped the water, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.

“I could tell.”

“Anyway, I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

His eyes widened with hope. “Are you saying you’re having second thoughts about what you told us?”

“No. I wish, but no. I’m just saying I’m sorry it came out the way it did.”

The hope drained from his face like water through a sieve. “So you still think Armando is the devil?”

“No, Matt. I
know
he’s the devil.”

He popped a few Cheerios in his mouth, pulled the papers from under his arm. “I Googled him,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I Googled Armando,” he repeated with a smile, waving the papers. “Got about fifteen pages on him.”

“No way!” Excitedly I snatched the pages from his hand. Matt had found proof about Armando on the internet. Thank heaven for the World Wide Web. I began reading the first page and my face dropped. I looked up. “What’s this?”

“That’s the great thing about Google. You type in somebody’s name and you can find out all sorts of things about them.”

“But it says here he’s a philanthropist who gives money to Africa, India…”

He waved another sheet. “I know. This one says he travels the world looking for undiscovered artists that he brings back to the U.S. and makes famous. He’s changed a lot of people’s lives.”

I tore through the pages, giving each one a quick read before tossing it aside.

“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for,” he said. “The man is a saint.”

“Lies!” The word crawled from my throat, a hoarse whisper.  I looked into his eyes and realized he’d only come to show me how wrong I was. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I
am
your friend, Megan—maybe the only friend you’ve got left. Erin was a mess at school today. I couldn’t console her.”

“
Erin
was a mess!?” I said, my voice rising. “What about
me?
What do you think I was doing all day? Baking cookies? I just found out my mother’s dating the devil, Matt. The freakin’ devil! And you’re telling me you’re worried about
Erin!
”

It was as if I’d slapped him across the face. “You need help!” He hurriedly began gathering the papers strewn across the counter top.

“No. I need friends.”

He stopped. “Megan, I want to believe you, but… come on. How can I? The devil speaks with a Spanish accent, owns an art gallery, and drives a Volvo.” He threw up his hands as if to say
“impossible.”

“I didn’t ask you to believe me, Matt. I know it sounds crazy. I asked you to give me a week to let me prove myself. Best friends since kindergarten, right?  Don’t I get at least that?”

Shadows were creeping up the kitchen walls and I realized the day had somehow gotten away from me.

He stared at me for a minute that stretched into an eternity. “Sure,” he finally said. It was a grudging response. I didn’t care. He agreed.

“I have a plan.” My voice lowered conspiratorially. “I know how to expose him. I just need you and Erin present when it happens.”

“Sure,” he said again, a clipped response. “We’ll be there.”

It was a simple plan. My mother’s fortieth birthday was in two weeks. I couldn’t wait that long. I was going to give her a big birthday bash on Saturday night. Matt, Erin, a few of her girlfriends, and, of course, Armando would comprise the guest list. It’d be a birthday bash to remember.

#

I sent out evites that I designed myself using Photoshop. No evite for Armando, though. Aside from the fact I didn’t have his email address, I needed him to be assured he wasn’t walking into a trap. I called him at the art gallery. It was my first contact with him since I’d known the truth.

Does he know I know? After all, he is the devil. And if he does know, then what?

“Megan. What a pleasant surprise,” came his velvet voice. He was trying to sound natural, but I could hear the caution that blanketed his words.

“I am so embarrassed. I’m surprised you haven’t hung up on me yet. The way I treated you at the restaurant the other night. Just horrible. It just goes to show what kind of man you are.”

A full thirty seconds of measured silence before: “Yes. The restaurant was unfortunate.”

“That’s putting it mildly. I was behaving like a jealous child. I’m so sorry, Armando. My mother talks about you all the time, what a great guy you are. And she’s right. It’s obvious how much you mean to her. I do not want to destroy the happiness that only you can give her.” As I spoke, I realized this had to be my best acting job ever.

More silence. I could almost hear him weighing my words, pushing, prodding, poking for holes. All I could hope was that his vanity would not allow him to see the truth. I’d thrown around enough compliments. I was counting on Satan having a big ego.

“Your mother is very concerned about you.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “And I want you to know I’m past all the petty jealousies. In fact, I’m throwing her a surprise birthday party Saturday night, and I need your help pulling it off.”

“Saturday night? But her birthday isn't until week after next.”

“I know. But if I do it this week, it’ll totally catch her off guard. And imagine how happy she’ll be when she sees we did it together. It’s just the boost our relationship needs.”

I could sense his smile, cold and calculating. “You are a good daughter,” he said.

And I knew I had him.

“What do you need from me?” he asked.

“First, I need to know that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“But of course, Megan. I’m glad you are seeing things more clearly now.”