Eternal Spring A Young Adult Short Story Collection (35 page)

He continued to shriek—the sound was like nails on a
chalkboard—and writhe as I spoke the words. There was nothing he could do
now but try and hold on to the soul he’d possessed as he was yanked back down
into the fiery depths of his hellish prison. And trust me, hell was as fiery as
the rumors made it out to be.

“….amen.”

The clown collapsed to the ground, me on top of him. I
really hoped no one walked in on us. The
cross stuck
to his skin, burned into his flesh. Carefully, I peeled the iron off then
stood, looking down at the now recovering clown.

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked up at me, confusion
evident in the way his pupils dilated in and out. “What’s…what’s going on?”

I helped him sit up against one of the mirrors. “You should
really lay off the drinking buddy. You could’ve really hurt someone.”

He glanced around, taking in the hall of mirrors and the
broken glass on the ground beside him. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you stumbling around in here, mumbling to yourself.
When I tried to help, you fell into one of the mirrors.”

He looked at me, and I knew he was trying to reconcile what
I just told him to what he remembered. His mind was likely trying to hide those
lingering images to protect his own sanity. I was just helping him out, giving
him a more plausible reason he could cling to.

Finally he nodded to me. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right, kid.
Thanks for helping me.” He got to his feet, a little shaky, but he was able to
stand.

“No worries.” I left him there to sort it all out.

Outside the fun house, I found Aspen sitting on the street
curb and Dan handing her a bottle of water.

“Are you all right?” I sat beside her, wanting to put my arm
around her, but not sure if she’d welcome it.

She rubbed the side of her head. “Yeah. I’m a little fuzzy
about what happened though.”

I glanced at Dan, wondering if he’d messed with her head at
all. He just shrugged. “Caden saved your life is what happened.”

She took a sip of water then looked at me. “Was that clown
really possessed?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“Does this happen often when you take a girl out?”

“No. This is a new one for me.” I gave her a reassuring
smile.

“Huh. Well, that’s messed up.”

“Yeah it is.” I stood then helped her to her feet. “Let me
take you home.”

“That’s probably best.”

During the drive back to Aspen’s, the silence was deafening.
In the backseat, even Dan was unnaturally quiet. I snuck a few peeks at Aspen
as I drove, but she just stared out the side window the entire time. I imagined
this was going to be our first and last date.

When I parked in front of her house, she looked at me then
back at Dan. “The clown said some weird things in there. You’re not really a
demon are you?”

For a second I was sure Dan was going to admit it but
instead he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not a demon. That would be messed up,
especially since Caden’s my best bud. Could you imagine what the International
Order of Exorcists would do if that were true? It would be total and complete
chaos for sure.”

I gave him the ‘Shut up while you’re ahead’ look. But as
usual he ignored me.

She looked at him a moment longer, then as if appeased
turned to open the door. “Walk me up.”

Quickly, I got out of the car and came around to shut the
door for her. We slowly walked up the steps to the front door. Nerves made my
gut churn and my throat constrict.

“I’m sorry about tonight. It’s not really the plan I had for
us.” I looked down at my feet, too much of a coward to look her in the face. I
didn’t want her to see how much it mattered to me that I had blown it. Dating
me was definitely an extreme sport. The risks far outweighed the benefits. Even
I could admit that.

She nudged her runner against mine. “Nah, it wasn’t all that
bad.”

My head came up, shock probably making my eyes bug out.
“But.”

Aspen smiled then bridged the distance between us. She put a
hand on my chest, gripping the edge of my jacket between her fingers. “I’ve
always been a sucker for a bad boy.”

I could barely take a breath with my heart hammering so hard
in my chest, but I did and leaned down toward her. “Well, I’m as bad as they
come then,” I murmured just inches away from her lips.

I cupped a hand behind her neck, rubbing my thumb along her
jaw line. The soft curls of her hair caressed my skin. Her lips parted
slightly, and I could hear her tiny gasp as I covered her mouth with mine. It
was a slow, wet, aching kiss that left me wanting so much more.

I’d kissed girls before. But this was different. Aspen was
different. She was the perfect girl for me.

After we parted, she gave me one of her secret sexy grins
then opened the front door. Before she went inside, she said, “I’ll see you
soon, Caden.”

“When?” I responded eagerly.

She shrugged then stepped inside and shut the door. I wanted
to follow her, beg her to see me tomorrow, but instead I turned and headed back
to the car. The saying ‘quit while you’re ahead’ played over and over in my
mind.

Once inside the vehicle, I started it and stared at her
house for a minute longer, hoping to see her framed in the window looking out
at me. I just wanted one more look at her. The sudden feeling that she was
going to disappear from my life churned in my gut.

“Dude,” Dan drawled from the backseat. “You’re in deep
trouble.”

“I know.” Sighing, I pulled away from the curb.

Dina was worried
about Aspen dating after dark, about the dangers out there, when she should’ve
been concerned about the really dangerous thing that had just happened on the
front porch of her house. Sure exorcisms were risky, life-threatening even, so
for us falling in love was a natural disaster just waiting to happen.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is a prequel to the full Caden Butcher novel
Demon Whisperer
,
now available in ebook and print at Amazon, B&N and other retailers. Stay
tuned for another exciting Caden Butcher adventure in
America’s Next Top Zombie
, to be
released July 2012.

***

Tawny Stokes has always been a writer. From an early age,
she’d spin tales of serial killers in love, vampires taking over the world, and
sometimes about fluffy bunnies turned bunnicidal maniacs. An honour student in
high school, with a penchant for math and English, you’d never know it by the
foot high blue Mohawk and Doc Martens, which often got her into trouble. No
longer a Mohawk wearer, Tawny still enjoys old school punk rock, trance, zombie
movies, teen horror films, and fluffy bunnies. She lives in Canada with her
fantastical daughter, two cats, and spends most of her time creating new
stories for teens. Tawny also writes adult paranormal/urban fantasy fiction
under the name Vivi Anna, and is an aspiring screenwriter. For more info,
please visit
www.tawnystokes.com

Back to Table of Contents

Sometime

By

Alicia
Street

“You mean you haven’t told your parents about your job at
the museum?”

“It’s only my mom and me. And, no, I haven’t told her. For
some stupid reason she doesn’t want me working there.”

“Really? But it’ll look so good on your college
applications.”

I shrug. “She just has these weird ideas about what I should
or shouldn’t do. But it’s cool because I’ll be able to get home each day before
she finishes work.”

Sarah bites her lip. Like she’s never done anything without
telling her parents?

Now I’m sorry I opened up to this girl I only met once in
study hall. I let the conversation die and stare out the bus window at the
Philadelphia streets.

The May afternoon is a bright, sunny one. Or maybe it just
looks brighter because something I want so badly is actually happening.

The bus stops at Thirty-fourth Street and I leap off, my
stomach churning. Straightening the cuff of my jeans and smoothing out the
wrinkles in my layered tees, I walk through a wrought iron gate into a
landscaped garden complete with manicured hedges, stone satyr, and oblong lily
pond, and into a building that’s housed

University of Pennsylvania’s Museum of Archaeology and
Anthropology since the late 1800s.

The lady at the reception desk calls Ms. Cresley, who hired
me. “Go ahead to the gift shop. The young man who’ll be your supervisor is
waiting for you.”

I climb the broad marble stairs to the second floor. Yeah,
it’s only a job in the gift shop, but it means I’ll be a few steps away from
all those mosaics and bas reliefs and terra cotta figurines and silk tapestries
and . . .

I stop short when I see who’s standing behind the shop
counter.
OMG
.
Is
he
my
supervisor?

It’s Jerrod Pierce. I watch him keying something into the
cash register. My knees go wobbly. He’s new in town, and every girl in school
is talking about him because he is way gorgeous. His dark, long hair is tied at
the nape of his neck today, showing off the painfully perfect angles of his
face.

He must sense me staring because he looks up, directly at
me. His onyx eyes send an electric jolt through me. I shiver. Then try to hide
it by forcing out, “Hello, Jerrod.”

That was dumb. Sounds like I’m pretending I know him. For
one thing, he’s a senior and I’m only a sophomore. Plus, in the short time he’s
been at Central High the buzz about his outrageous athletic talent has earned
him a big rep.

“You’re Terry Conn.”

At first I’m shocked that he knows the name of an unpopular
loser like me. But then I remember Ms. Cresley probably told him. “Um, yes.
That’s me.”

Jerrod smiles and it nearly takes my breath away. How am I
going to do this? It won’t work. I consider making up some bogus reason for
quitting. Except, I’ve been trying to get a job here for so long.

“Jerrod Pierce,” he says, as if I wouldn’t know. He leads me
around the shop and storeroom, pointing out the different sections. He shows me
how to log in items that need to be unpacked, how to shelve them, and how to
work the cash register. I listen really hard, but the only “how” that seems to
be sinking in is how it feels to have a guy this droolworthy standing so close.

I keep making mistakes and get more and more frustrated.
What is wrong with me? I like cute guys as much as anybody, but I’ve never met
one who made me act so stupid. But as I wallow in my mortification, imagining
Jerrod telling everyone at school what a dork I am, he reaches out and —
holds my hand!

I don’t move a hair for fear of obliterating this incredibly
magnificent moment. Jerrod Pierce is actually holding my hand and looking at me
with those amazing eyes.

“Chill, Terry,” he says. “You don’t have to learn it all
today.”

Chill? I’m ready to melt into his arms. So it’s a good thing
he leaves me in the storeroom to unpack boxes. Alone.

My IQ, which happens to be pretty high, begins functioning
again. Until five thirty when Jerrod walks into the storeroom. I avoid looking
at him so I won’t trip over my feet.

The shop always closes a half hour before the rest of the
museum, and the main reason I wanted this job was so I could buzz around
afterward. So when Jerrod tells me I am finished, I head for the gallery
displaying stuff from ancient Sumer. Stuff that my dad studied when he was
alive.

I wander past Lady Puabi’s headdress. Steles of the first
law codes. A mosaic of abalone and lapis lazuli. Glass cases of beaded jewelry,
stone vessels and tools.

“So you like ancient history.”

I jump, turning to see Jerrod walking toward me. “Um, yeah.”

“I’ll be studying all that here next year.”

“You got into Penn?”

He nods.

“Cool.” I’m proud that my dad used to teach here, and I
almost tell Jerrod. But then I’d have to explain that he died when I was two
years old and I hardly even remember him. Except I sometimes wonder if that’s
the reason I’m drawn to this place. But that wouldn’t explain the dreams I
have.

Jerrod’s dark eyes study me. My cheeks go red. I run a
nervous hand through my hair. My thick, mahogany curls are the only part of me
I really like. He seems to be waiting for more. I force myself to say
something. “My fave thing is reading about mythologies from ancient cultures.”

Of course, Mom tells me I should be dating instead. Or going
to parties with friends. But since I never get invited anywhere I figure I can
at least go to exciting places in my head.

“Mine, too,” Jerrod says. And he starts talking about the
Sumerians, the Egyptians the Minoans. I’m impressed with how much he knows, but
on these subjects I’ve got plenty to add. All of a sudden we’re deep into a
discussion about gods and kings and mythical creatures. And I’m not even
stumbling over my words like I usually do.

We stroll the gallery looking into the glass cases filled
with clay tablets written in cuneiform. The room is filled with figurines and
plaques. Like one that catches my eye. A reproduction of an ancient mosaic. A
wingless dragon that looks kind of
like
a dinosaur
dog. “Isn’t that one called a mushrushu?” I say to Jerrod.

But my gaze stays glued to the creature. In fact, I find I
can’t look away. And while I think I hear Jerrod saying there are several names
for this creature, my ears fill up with sounds of rain and thunder. Everything
around me seems to get fuzzy, colors blurring. I wonder if my blood sugar is
plummeting because I haven’t eaten since lunch.