Those Who Fight Monsters (8 page)

“No way is he in his twenties,” I whispered, remembering what I’d been told about our host. “He’s got to still be in high school.”

Jeremy moved slightly, and I imagined he was shrugging. “Dunno. Guess he’s just one of those guys.”

I guessed so. One of those gorgeous, model-perfect, Greek- God-on-a-mountaintop kind of guys with a fabulous mansion overlooking the ocean, who throws awesome parties with cutting-edge music and tables and tables topped with amazing food and mindblowing drinks. Yeah. One of those guys.

Now, that guy was holding Mindy tight while she regained her balance. But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was looking right at me. There was something so familiar about his eyes. If I wanted to, I really thought I could float away in them.

Except part of me didn’t want to. Part of me thought that would be a very bad idea. There was something about him … something deep in his eyes…

“Allie!”

I started, the movement breaking eye contact. I’d been thinking something … worrying about something, and I glanced back at Mindy, but she was upright and holding hands with Carson and everything seemed hunky-dory.

I turned to Jeremy, confused.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I…”

“You got this look. All worried and … I don’t know.” His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to leave, do you?”

That
knocked me back to reality. “I thought about it,” I admitted. “My mom wouldn’t exactly approve.”

As far as Mom knew, the plan had been a movie followed by a sleepover at Parker’s house. (Parker is a girl, so that’s not as risqué as it sounds.) The boys, of course, were not invited to that part of the evening.

“Forget this crap,” Carson had said once we were safe inside the mall. “Tonight’s Marlin Wheatley’s party.”

“Who?” I’d asked, and they’d all looked at me like I was from Mars. Turns out, Wheatley’s some rich twenty-something computer bazillionaire who’d moved to the area a few months ago and has been talking up this party for ages.

“Why?”

Jeremy and Parker had looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess he wants to make sure people come.”

“But why throw it in the first place?”

“He’s a college drop-out geek. This is probably his way of meeting girls. Who cares, anyway? It’s a party.”

I probably could have said something, but I didn’t, and after about thirty minutes, we pulled up in front of the biggest house I’d ever seen. I had no idea where we were, other than that we were on one of the cliffs overlooking the Pacific in a mega-ritzy neighborhood I’d never seen before. Walking to the front door, I could smell the ocean, and the lights of the house seemed magical against the black night sky.

At that one moment, I had absolutely no hesitation about blowing off the movie and sneaking off to a party.

Inside, when I’d smelled the alcohol in the punch and saw the guy I share a lab table with in biology barf into a potted plant, the second thoughts set in.

Still, there was nothing inherently bad about a barfing lab partner, right? Just because he drank too much didn’t mean I would. And I couldn’t deny the biggest, most glaring fact of all — I really liked the way Jeremy was looking at me. If I was a widdle girl who made a phone call to her mommy, would he ever look at me that way again?

“Earth to Allie,” he said. “Come on. Don’t do that to me. Tell me you don’t want to leave.”

“No,” I said, not realizing until that moment that I was certain. “I don’t want to leave.”

He pressed his hands over his heart and pretended to swoon. “Saved,” he said. “I was expecting a mortal blow.”

I laughed, and thought that felt pretty darn nice.

Mom might not think I was ready to make decisions in the field, but we weren’t talking demons here. This was a party. And just because she was a demon hunter didn’t mean she could go in and hijack all of my decisions from me. I was fourteen years old! I was
supposed
to be going to parties with friends. I’m pretty sure that’s in the rule book somewhere.

“I’m staying,” I said again, just because I liked the way it sounded. Then I smiled up at Jeremy. “In fact, I think I want more punch.”

“You’re Allie, right?”

I dropped the dipper back into the bowl, splattering the pink liquid onto my shirt, as I looked up to find Marlin smiling at me from the kitchen doorway.

“Sorry,” he said silkily. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you…” I trailed off because, hey, he had startled me. What was the point of denying it?

He nodded toward the bowl. “You like the punch.”

“Yes,” I lied. Actually, I’d come into the kitchen hoping to find something in the refrigerator to drink instead. I’d lucked out, too. The punch was apparently a mixture of pink lemonade, Sprite, and some unidentifiable alcohol of the wow-is-that-strong variety. I didn’t like it. And so I’d filled my cup to the brim with plain old pink lemonade, and then had gone to the punch bowl to do a color comparison.

Yes, I know I should simply be able to say, “No, I don’t like the punch,” or, “Gee, the alcohol in the punch is making my head swim.” Instead, I was going to silently lie by carrying around a big cup of my own version of punch. Cowardly, maybe, but it would keep me sober. I might be defying Mom by staying at the party, but getting drunk on top of that? If she found out, I’d be grounded until my wedding night. Which I wouldn’t have, because she’d never let me near a guy again.

A slow grin spread across Marlin’s face, and those odd eyes twinkled as he peered at the clear plastic tumbler filled with pink lemonade that I now held — a tumbler that was about the size of four of the cups that were piled high in the foyer next to the punch bowl. “I think I have a bigger glass if you’d like.”

I lifted my chin and hoped I looked like a high school student defending her right to drink spiked punch. “No thanks. I’ve already had a lot. This is just about perfect.”

He moved closer, although his voice seemed to stay very far away. His hand touched my back, and I had the oddest sensation that his fingers were going right through me. I tried to stifle a shiver but didn’t quite manage.

“Problem?” he asked, his voice slick and oily, his breath so minty I had to assume he wasn’t drinking the punch.

“Cold punch,” I said. “Brain freeze.”

“Ah.” He put pressure on my back, and like a dutiful puppy, I moved forward. “I was looking for you. Mindy and Carson and Jeremy joined me in the study along with a few more of your friends. Will you join us? It’s less boisterous than the foyer and ballroom, but easier to talk.”

“Sure,” I said. In some part of my mind, I recognized that he spoke strangely, his words overly formal or something. But I couldn’t really think about it. I tried a bit, but the thoughts wouldn’t stick, and by the time we reached the study, I’d forgotten all about it.

The room was oak-paneled and fancy, like something out of an old movie, and I looked around, taking in the paintings in gilt frames, the ornate furniture on which my friends and a bunch of other kids were sitting, and the massive wooden desk.

I saw Carson and Jeremy on a sofa, just sitting and talking. Mindy was on an overstuffed loveseat nursing another cup of punch. She looked up at me, her eyes glassy and her smile crooked, and I started toward her, determined to cut her off.

I’d taken one step when it happened — the room changed. The formal-looking study disappeared in a snap and suddenly I was in a room filled with nothing but red and black. Blood, I realized, and it coated the walls, the scent of it filling my nose and making me want to gag.

Something squished under my feet, and I looked down to find myself tromping on maggots, their fat little bodies bursting beneath my shoes.

And right in front of me, the big wooden desk was now a giant stone slab, like the kind ancient tribes used to make sacrifices to the gods.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally, and when I opened them again — slowly and tentatively — the room was completely back in order.

What the heck?

I glanced at the lemonade in my hand. Maybe I should have cut myself off sooner.

On the couch, Mindy was peering at me, her forehead crinkled. I must have looked freaked, because she pushed herself up and started toward me. She, at least looked normal. At least that’s what I thought at first. Then I saw the weird tentacle things that were wrapped around her ankles and wrists. She, however, didn’t seem aware of them at all. And I sure as heck didn’t understand why I was seeing them.

I blinked again, and the tentacles disappeared, but the blood was back. Then the tentacles were, and I stood there hyperventilating as I realized that the long, gray squid-like arms were attached to all the kids, and that they extended back to Marlin, who’d taken a seat behind the blood-soaked sacrificial stone. I mean the desk. The slab.
The desk.

I had no idea why I was seeing two versions of the same room, one very decidedly coming at me straight from the Horror Channel. But I did know with absolute certainty that Marlin was a demon. I mean, that was the only explanation, right? And his minty-fresh breath was a big, minty clue. Too minty. I should have realized; hadn’t mom trained me to notice breath? And didn’t demons have the nastiest breath imaginable? The kind of breath that they would mask with liberal doses of mouthwash and tons and tons of minty candies.

Oh, shit.

The room was changing with every glance, as if I was looking at one of those holographic bubblegum cards that change slightly depending on the angle.

“Allie?” Mindy asked. “Are you okay?”

“I … no. My head feels weird.” What was I supposed to say? Did you know there’s a squid creature attached to you, and it’s Marlin? “I think it must be the drink.”

I think it must be the drink…

That was it!
I was absolutely, positively certain of it. Everyone in that room except me was drunk on punch, and none of the kids in that room saw what I was seeing — and what I was seeing was reality mixed in with a little bit of a mirage. Only it was the
blood
that was the reality, along with the tentacles and the maggots. And the stone table.

The oak paneled study was the fantasy — and the punch induced it. It was spiked with more than alcohol, that was for sure.

But I’d stopped drinking the punch, so I wasn’t drunk, even though Marlin had invited me in because he assumed I was. I only had a little bit of demon juice in me, and so I could see what the room really looked like … and I was scared to death.

Once more, I’d gone on a date, and been sucked into demon-ville. I mean, that’s all great and fabulous once I’m a demon hunter, but right now, I’m a high school student, and it’s not like I’ve got my knife in my itty bitty purse.

In fact, all I had in my purse that could even remotely pass for a weapon was nail clippers.

I drew in a breath for courage, and decided that one tiny pair of clippers would just have to do.

Then I saw two more tentacles sliding across the floor heading straight toward me, and I knew that nail clippers weren’t the answer. I wasn’t ready for this. How could I fight this?

Mom.

The tentacles were only a few feet away now, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, mumbled something about needing to throw up, and turned and raced out the door.

I didn’t know where I was or what I was going to do, but I knew I had to find someplace safe, then hole up and call my mom, so I pulled open the first door I found and lunged into a dingy, dust-covered bedroom filled with moldy, decaying furniture and a stench that made me want to really throw up.

I ignored it and pulled out my cell phone and my nail clippers. I jabbed the speed dial number for home, then opened the clippers and extended the metal file, giving me a weapon that extended about one and a half inches. In other words, completely freaking useless for self-defense against most creatures, but deadly to a demon if I could put that point through his eye. The trick, of course, was not getting dead first.

On the other end of the line, the phone rang.

“Come on, come on…”

One ring, then another and another until finally, “Hello?”

“Mom!”

That was all I said. Because right then Marlin burst through the door, yanked the phone out of my hand, and hurled it through the window. Glass shattered under the force, but I barely heard the noise. Instead, all I heard were my own screams.

“So you know,”
Marlin said, his mouth moving, but a deeper voice coming out.
“It matters not. This year’s sacrifices have been chosen. Your failure to drink fully of the elixir is of no consequence. What you have seen does not matter. The dead tell no tales, Alison, and you cannot stop us. Judemore will rise. He will feed. And he will bestow his bounty upon me for yet another year.”

He said all of that, and then he smiled. And before I even had time to think that I really didn’t like the look of that smile, he lunged.