The Afterlife Academy (20 page)

T
he giant demon had Walter trapped in his hands. Powerless, he watched two other creatures with lizard heads and wiry insect arms and legs crash into the hotel room and seize Charlie, who was knocked unconscious when the demon removed Walter. He flopped around like a rag doll as one of the demons tossed him over its shoulder. From out of the living room, four more disgusting demons emerged, carrying Charlie's parents. They were bound with thick cords and appeared to be unconscious as well. Walter couldn't understand how the demons could carry them. Charlie was different from other humans because of his involvement with
The Summoner's Handbook.
But the creatures shouldn't have affected Charlie's parents, unless the demons in Wisdom's hotel had somehow become unusually powerful. Did the sudden influx of power come from Wisdom's control? Had he used the book?

Ronald hadn't exaggerated when he'd said reversing a spiritual possession was painful. Walter's arms burned from Hoonga's touch, and he whimpered in pain. He knew Charlie had felt it as well, from his screams when Hoonga yanked them apart and the fact that he'd lost consciousness. Walter had failed.

Utterly failed.

Had it happened when he'd first arrived on the scene, Walter would've chalked it up to a rookie mistake and moved on. But now Charlie was his friend. What would happen to him? What would happen to his family?

“Take care of him,” Wisdom ordered the demon he'd called Hoonga. “Then meet me later to complete the ceremony.”

“With pleasure!” Hoonga licked his tusks.

Wisdom commanded that the other demons carry Charlie and his parents out of the room, then turned to Walter before exiting to leave Hoonga to do his dirty work. “You've certainly been a troublemaker, haven't you? I wish I could stay and watch this, but I'm a little preoccupied. I trust you'll understand. Oh, and nice shorts.”

Walter glanced down and frowned. He had forgotten all about his clothing, and he remembered how pristine Ronald had looked in his gleaming white uniform. Where was Walter's uniform? Where were his weapons for self-defense?

“I'm going to rip out your essence, wad it up into a teeny, tiny ball, and then swallow you like a lemon drop,” Hoonga said once Wisdom had left.

“What's going to happen to Charlie?” Walter asked.

“Do not speak to me!” Hoonga stomped his elephant foot on the hotel floor.

“Tell me! What are they going to do to Charlie?” Walter stared defiantly into Hoonga's solitary eyeball.

A smile cracked the demon's scowl. “His soul will be absorbed into
The Summoner's Handbook,
thus opening the Gateway for my kind to enter your world with no restrictions. No complications. No more waiting for the perfect weather conditions to manifest. We will have the ability to gnash and rip apart every last one of your kind. Pure mayhem! And the world will owe your friend Charlie for making it possible.”

Walter's head drooped forward. He didn't fully understand what absorbing into
The Summoner's Handbook
required, but he could guess it wouldn't bode well for Charlie.

“Let's play, shall we?” Hoonga squeezed Walter's arms in his claws.

Closing his eyes, Walter prayed for a quick destruction. Instead, he felt the grip on his arms grow limp.

“No!”
Hoonga dropped Walter to the floor. The demon howled as a purple circle of light lit up the room and enveloped Walter.

“Whoa, you're a big sucker!” a familiar voice shouted from beyond the shield. Walter sat up, gaping in amazement, as seven Afterlife Agents, all dressed in white fatigues, surrounded the demon. Standing among them, squaring off fearlessly with Hoonga, were the three Logan brothers.

Flashes of brilliant light blinded the beast as the Agents inflicted all manner of battle attacks. They threw lights shaped like spears and arrows. Tossed glowing grenades that exploded upon impact. One of the Agents lashed out with a long purple whip that crackled with electricity. Shields re-formed as quickly as Hoonga could bat them away. The Logan brothers had amazing skill, as did the other Agents, who appeared much older than the boys—not that that was an indication of their length of time as Agents. But Hoonga was a giant, towering over them by more than three feet.

Shaking, Walter got to his feet as his protective shield dissipated. Ronald somersaulted across the room. He fired a dagger of purple light from his hand, and it penetrated through the monster's hip. Hoonga released a deafening roar as he broke off the end of the dagger, leaving a good chunk of the material stuck in his leg.

“Don't just stand there,” Riley said, barely dodging a dangerous claw strike. “Get moving!”

“Right!” Walter hopped from one foot to the other and jabbed the air with his fists. “How can I help?” This was it! Go time. The moment to test his abilities. To dive headfirst into—

“Get out of here!” Reginald shouted. “We didn't show up to save your butt just to watch you get swallowed by this overgrown walrus!” He grunted as Hoonga connected with a closed-handed strike to his chest. Reginald slid across the floor, then slowly rose to his feet, his shoulders heaving with labored breaths.

“You want me to run? I'm not gonna leave you guys! I could— Holy wicked!” Walter shouted as a long, glowing spear formed in Ronald's hand and launched toward Hoonga. The weapon pierced Hoonga's shoulder and forced the demon into a backward tumble. “How did you do that?”

“Seriously, Walter. Go!” Ronald ordered. “We'll catch up with you after we dispatch this freak of nature.”

The floor of the luxurious suite shuddered as another massive monster thundered into the room. Walter looked up and, seeing Gorge, felt a fit of nausea come over him.

“Oh, great!” he shouted. “You again?”

“Master,” the horned, gorilla-like red demon spoke. “Your orders?”

Hoonga had several protruding spears of light in his shoulders, hips, and calf muscles. The giant Cyclops snarled and pointed a clawed finger in Walter's direction. “Capture that one!”

Running for his life, with the demon hot on his trail, Walter zigzagged through the hotel suite. He passed the big-screen television flashing baseball highlights, two closed doors, and a bathroom until he finally shot into the master bedroom. A massive four-poster king-sized bed, with the sheets downturned and several mints on the pillows, took up most of the room. Where could he hide?

“Come here, you!” Gorge said as he stepped into the room. A hand swung out, grazing Walter's arm, and immediately lit up his body with burning pain.

Gorge swung again, but Walter dodged out of the way, then raced full-speed toward the far wall, diving straight through it and out into the rainy night air. Though he felt no pain from the four-story drop, it nearly scared him to death…again.

Gorge followed, landing with far more grace than Walter had. “Stop running! Let me catch you!”

“Dream on!” The large horned demon was surprisingly nimble, but Walter had gained the advantage on the outside. Now Gorge was begging Walter to slow down, and shouting something about an old maid. Gorge started to lose ground, and at last he shrank into the distance.

Walter was free. He had to save Charlie. But where was Wisdom going to conduct his demonic ritual?

Suddenly, everywhere Walter turned, a wraith appeared from the shadows. His feet skidded to a halt. The six specters hovered around him, sealing off any escape, as the horned demon lumbered down the road. Gorge stepped through the circle, wheezing.

Walter was not free, after all.

“Master Hoonga requests your presence.”

“Tell Hoonga to take a flying leap!”

Gorge blinked with uncertainty. “I don't know what that means.”

“It means you're not taking me without a fight!” Walter cocked his head to the side and brought his fists up. When Gorge didn't immediately attack, Walter felt his old instincts kick in. He had been in this sort of position many times before. The swarming wraiths might as well have been jeering kids on the playground, and Gorge was nothing more than a bully. Walter made a quick assessment of his opponent. The demon had strong arms and hands. Plus, he couldn't forget about the horns. However, Gorge also had skinny legs. They looked unstable, unbalanced. Walter stared into Gorge's cruel eyes, but he also noticed a slight tremble in the demon's lower lip. Was that a hint of doubt? Gorge looked like a bully unsure of who he was fighting.

Before the demon had a chance to attack, Walter led off with a right hook to the side of Gorge's mouth. Light accentuated the punch, sending electric charges through Walter's arm. It tingled, but it didn't hurt. The blow temporarily stunned Gorge, and the circle of wraiths fluttered nervously around them.

“What are you, nuts?” Gorge bellowed. “You think you can beat me?” He lashed out with a claw, but Walter ducked and delivered two more quick jabs to the monster's stomach.

“Picked the wrong Agent to mess with, didn't you?” Walter hopped effortlessly over Gorge's claws as the creature swung at his legs. He grabbed Gorge's horns and forced his knee into the demon's chin. Gorge howled and toppled over backward in a crumpled heap. “And
stay
down!” Walter brushed his hands together. Twirling around, he squared off with the closest wraith. “You want some of this? Huh? Do you?” The wraith's hooded head darted from left to right, unsure of what to do. Walter had entered his element; a fighter unafraid of any enemy. But Gorge's laughter broke his concentration.

The monster propped himself up with one massive hand. “Not bad. But you didn't really think you'd won, did you?”

Before Walter could bring his hands up in defense, Gorge lunged, his head down like a charging bull. The demon's horns were spread wide enough that they just barely missed Walter's skin, the tips grazing his shirt on either side of his body. But the full force of Gorge's skull crashed into Walter's chest, knocking the wind completely out of him. Pinned beneath a heavy weight, with Gorge on his stomach, Walter swung out blindly. But his punches made little impact. Colored lights danced in front of his face. Could spirits lose consciousness?

Demon snot and drool dripped onto Walter's neck as Gorge grinned in victory. “Want to know what it's like to have a demon snuff out your essence?”

The demon and the wraiths began to fade from Walter's vision, then disappeared, and the dark night sky transformed into a brightly lit room.

Still woozy and delirious, Walter sat up on the white floor, blinked, and looked around. Peering down at him from his desk was Alton.

“A
re you lost?” Alton stood, placing his pen behind his ear. “This is my office.”

“What?” Walter rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room. “How did I get here?”

Just as before, a tower of folders rested on Alton's desk. Alton removed his glasses, breathed on them, and wiped them on his shirt.

“Well, this is new.” He placed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Normally when people die they arrive here seated in one of those chairs.” He nodded to the row of seats Walter had sat in when he'd first landed in Alton's office. “Are you a bit of a clumsy fellow? Is that why you're down there?”

“Alton, it's me.” Walter smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. “Walter Prairie.”

Pulling the pen from behind his ear, Alton licked the point and readied to write on his pad. “Walter…Prairie? Why does that sound familiar?”

Before Walter could answer, Alton shot his hand into the tower on his desk and yanked out a folder from the middle. Once again, the tower teetered precariously but righted itself before toppling. After thumbing through the folder, peering over the lenses of his glasses as he read, Alton gave a brusque nod.

“Yes, well, Walter Prairie. Here you are. Again.”

“Yes,” Walter answered as he raised himself to sit up and then stand.

Alton snapped the folder closed. “But why are you here? Shouldn't you be doing your thing in the Academy?”

“You know why I'm here! This is all your fault!”

Alton squinted his eyes. “
My
fault?”

“Yeah!” Walter jabbed an accusatory finger at Alton. “You're the one behind everything. I knew it.”

“I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about. If you're upset with your Academy courses or your uniform size, you'll need to bring that up with your Team Leader. Did I not tell you to join the Heavenly Choir? They don't have half as many upset enrollees as the Academy.”

“Stop acting like you don't have a clue what's going on. You know I never went to the Academy!”

Alton puffed his cheeks out in confusion. “Well, where did you go? Did you get lost? Was I not clear with my instructions? It's just through one door.”

“You're not going to get away with this. Charlie and his parents are in serious danger because of you. Someone needs to help them and then lock you up forever!”

Alton stood and held his hands out to silence Walter. “Keep your voice down! Do you want to disrupt the entire hall? People are being Categorized right now, a very tedious process, as you may recall, and they don't need you screaming in the background.” He moved around to the front of the desk. “Now get back to your dorm. Whatever your issue may be, it is not something with which I can assist you.”

“What do you want with
The Summoner's Handbook,
anyway? Huh?”

“The what?”

“Were you trying to use demons to get back at the board for not letting you into the Academy?”

Alton's eyes widened in shock. He opened and closed his mouth like a bullfrog. “Who—who told you that?”

“Just because you had to clean toilets for years, it doesn't give you the right to ruin everyone's lives!”

“Who told you
that
?” Alton began to shout. “Are they spreading rumors about me? Making fun of me to the new cadets? Is that what they're talking about nowadays at the—at the—watercooler?”

The door to Alton's office opened with a bang, and Darwin Pollock stepped through. He was wearing the same three-piece suit with a gold watch dangling from a chain in his pocket that he was the last time Walter had seen him. He approached briskly and with purpose.

“Walter, you're here.” Darwin exhaled a slow breath.

“Darwin! Thank goodness!” Walter had to explain things as fast as he could. He had no idea what was happening to the Dewdles at that very moment.

Alton cleared his throat. “Mr. Pollock, why is Walter here?”

Darwin looked from Alton to Walter.

“I don't know why I'm here, but you do,” Walter said to Darwin. “Alton's just playing stupid. It was because of his pop quiz that I graduated from the Academy in record time and got assigned to an HLT who'd found the—”

“One moment, Walter,” Darwin interjected. “Alton, it seems that Walter and I have some things to discuss. And you look tired.”

“Tired?” Alton nibbled a thumbnail. “I am. I'm always tired.”

“Why don't you take a break?”

Pausing midchew, Alton spat a piece of nail out of the corner of his mouth. “Take a break, sir?”

“Yes, take a walk, a stroll.”

“But I never take breaks. In fifty years, not once have I taken a break.”

“Alton.” Darwin's eyebrows rose.

“Well, I guess I've always wanted to see the nurseries. That could be fun.” Alton placed his pen on the desk and started to smile. “Ooh, and the processing factory! But it could take hours to see all of that. How long do I—”

“Just go!” Darwin snapped, his usually calm demeanor cracked.

“Yes, sir.” Alton made a quick check of his office space and then waved goodbye to Walter as he exited the room.

Standing alone with Darwin in the quiet office, the events of the last week replayed in Walter's mind. He had been inches away from certain destruction, and now he had come full circle. “How did I end up back here? In Alton's office?” he asked.

“I brought you here as soon as I saw what was happening down there.” Darwin leaned against the desk. “What a disaster!”

“I know, I'm sorry! I tried to help Charlie out and protect the book, but I don't think I really know what I'm doing. Maybe I could've used some training, or a weapon or two. I don't think I'm a natural.”

Darwin laughed. “A natural? Of course you're not a natural. There's no such thing!”