Dealing with Demons

When I woke, I saw weak morning light filtering through my curtains and turned my head to check the clock.

My cheek brushed the pillow, and I clenched my teeth against the pain, only to immediately regret my reaction. Even my teeth hurt this morning.

The time on the clock face swam in and out of focus as I struggled to concentrate on anything beyond the throbbing pulse in my cheek. I’d woken at seven, as usual, but there was no toast bearer present. I glanced at my bedroom door. Did that mean no school, either?

Considering the way my face hurt, it wouldn’t bother me a bit to stay home. I didn’t particularly want to encounter either Brian or Clavin so soon. If they’d hated me because of what I’d said at school, they’d really have it in for me after I hit Clavin with that rock.

Warm under the blankets piled on my bed, I considered closing my eyes and going back to sleep. But I didn’t. Not after sleeping for almost fourteen hours.

Ready to face the inevitable, I pulled back the covers and sat up. My head thumped painfully, and I gently touched my cheek. The skin felt hot, tight, and very puffy. Maybe I had broken something more than the door.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. Even that simple move induced a wince. My thighs and calves ached like the devil from all the running the day before.

Moving gingerly, I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the light only to quickly switch it off again. Squinting hurt too much.

In the semi-gloom, I scowled at the mirror. A big purple-black bruise covered my right cheekbone and partially surrounded my eye. No wonder my face hurt. Spitefully, I hoped I’d bruised Clavin’s hip just as bad. The jerk.

The bruise wasn’t the only thing on my face. Dirt streaked my forehead, and I still wore the same mud-caked clothes, right down to the socks. I didn’t blame my mom for not changing me but wished she would have. Now, I’d need to clean myself up. Only a good scrub could resolve the mess staring back at me, but the muscles in my legs protested at the thought. A quick rinse would have to do.

I hurried through my shower and cringed whenever the water hit my face, palm, or scraped knuckles. Once I turned off the water, I noticed the house still remained unusually quiet. Typically, we all rushed to get me out the door on time.

After painfully getting dressed, I made my way to the kitchen. The echo of my growling stomach followed me down the hallway.

Everyone, except Aunt Danielle, sat around the table and quietly watched my approach. My steps slowed at the strange sight. Gran looked sad and slightly worried while my mom and Aunt Grace looked upset.

I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but my mom cut me off.

“We’ve read Belinda’s book to you since you were born. You know the rules. Home before dark. Perform the ritual. Sleep. What you did last night is unforgivable.”

My mouth fell open in shock. It remained like that for a heartbeat before I snapped it shut angrily. The move only hurt me more and fueled my temper.

“I can’t believe you think I did that on purpose. Do you see my face?” I waved at my vividly colored cheek. “I was locked in a supply closet, missed the bus, and then had to run home through the woods to avoid the same assholes who did this.”

I was so mad I actually swore in front of my mother for the first time. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Why, after four and a half years of following the rules, would you think I’d suddenly decide to rebel against the way I’ve been taught—since I was born—how my life would be?” The yelling hurt my face, but I didn’t care. I’d suffered enough abuse in the last twenty-four hours. I didn’t need it from my mother or anyone else.

“Thanks for the trust and sympathy, Mom.”

Her angry expression cracked to show a small bit of concern. It wasn’t good enough though. With angry tears in my eyes, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. Going to school didn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.

Outside, I paused to consider the family car parked on the side of the house, then the long road to school. Even though I should have felt safe in daylight, I wasn’t ready to walk that road again. I also didn’t want to go back in and ask for a ride after yelling like that.

Life sucked.

The door opened behind me, and I turned to glare at whoever dared approach.

Gran walked out, wearing a warm jacket. Her purse hung from her shoulder and keys jingled in one hand. In the other, she held my bag. Her calm expression melted a tiny bit of my anger as did the way she handed over my bag and the keys.

“You drive to school, and I’ll drive back home. One of us will pick you up this afternoon.”

I nodded. Gran didn’t like to drive, but she would if she had to. She followed me to the car and settled into the passenger seat while I slid in behind the wheel.

About halfway to school, my anger faded, and I started to feel guilty.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” I said grudgingly, still feeling like the innocent person in the whole mess. “I was just so mad that Mom didn’t even ask me what happened.”

“She’s sorry, too, honey. When we put you to bed, no one noticed your face. It hadn’t yet bruised. You shocked us all this morning and reminded us we need to trust each other. Especially now.” She looked straight ahead, watching the road.

Her words brought forward the image of whatever had chased me. I shivered.

“What was that thing?”

“What thing?” She gave me a worried look.

“The black thing with horns that chased me. It couldn’t have been so dark that you couldn’t see it.”

“We didn’t see anything, honey, but it sounds like you saw the reason you need to be inside and sleeping at night.” She sighed, and a slight quaver of fear escaped with the sound.

“If you didn’t see anything, why did you say ‘especially now’?” I asked, confused.

“Before you woke, Danielle predicted we’d need to move again. It’s why everyone stayed home.” Gran paused, and I could feel her studying me. “Given the bullying you received, you won’t mind moving, will you?”

Bullying seemed an understatement, given the state of my face. What I’d suffered was abuse, plain and simple, and it reminded me far too much of the time I’d touched a boy and saw my fate as an abused wife. That vision had scared me so bad I’d stayed home for two days then avoided him for the rest of the school year.

In answer to Gran’s question, I shook my head.

Even with the many rumors that started no matter where we went, we’d never moved once school started. I’d always managed to hang in there for the long-term even though Gran had suggested leaving early a few times.

There would be no managing. Not this time. After what Clavin and Brian had done to me, I wanted to leave.

Maybe I would have a chance for a friend at the new school, I thought to myself, refusing to revisit my thoughts of the day before. It has to be better at a new school, not worse.

“If we’re moving, do I really need to go to school today?” I still didn’t want to face Clavin and Brian. Hurting Clavin as I had would only make him meaner. Also, my face looked horrible.

“No, I was going to the office to get your records. You can wait in the car if you want.”

I thought about her offer. The idea of avoiding everyone had appeal. But why should I be the one to run and hide? Hadn’t I done enough of that in my life? Especially last night? Besides, there were books I should return and a final paper I wanted to turn in. I spent a lot of time on it and knew it would earn an A.

Sighing, I declined the easy out.

I turned into the staff lot and parked in a visitor space since she wouldn’t be staying long. Then, Gran and I walked to the office together so I could get a late slip.

The state of my face shocked the office secretaries. More so when Gran told them that kids at school did it to me and I wanted to transfer because of it. I flushed as Gran spoke. I hadn’t planned to discuss what had happened to my face but understood why Gran said something. It was a convenient and realistic reason for a sudden upheaval. Moving because of a book written by a centuries-old ancestor, or because a monster with glowing green eyes had found me, didn’t seem as plausible.

After talking to the principal, Mr. Jameson, for twenty minutes, I finally made my way to class. I gave the teacher my late slip and ignored everyone’s stares as I took a seat.

Barely a heartbeat later, Brian and Clavin’s names were called over the loudspeakers. Behind me, someone whispered, “snitch.”

Did all the students know what happened? Could my day get worse? Probably.

Although the students seemed to side with Clavin and Brian’s actions, the faculty did not.

At the end of first and second hours, I turned in the required textbook and explained that I wouldn’t be back. My second-hour teacher glanced at my face sympathetically before nodding. I figured word had already spread through the faculty regarding the reason behind my impending departure.

My stomach began to rumble during third hour. I had lost the chance to eat dinner the night before, and in my rush to leave the house, I’d forgotten breakfast, too. When the lunch bell finally rang, I hurried toward the cafeteria and ignored the students’ stares. The presence of additional teachers in the hallway didn’t escape my notice though. Bodyguards. Nice.

In line, I piled on as much food as the lunch ladies would allow me. Being poor meant I didn’t need to worry about paying, but I was still limited regarding what I could take. Today, though, I had their sympathy, and my bruised face earned me a double scoop of mashed potatoes.

Mouth watering, I made my way through the sea of filling tables. Conversations quieted as I neared some tables and escalated again after I passed.

Close to the table where I usually sat, I saw Brian and Clavin unobtrusively speaking to a group of girls. The pair’s gazes darted my direction, but they didn’t make a move toward me.

Before I could decide what to do, Mr. Jameson approached me.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked. He had a tray of food in his hands as well.

Sit with the principal or risk more Brian and Clavin quality time? I really didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not at all,” I answered quickly.

Together we walked the rest of the way to the table of isolation; no one approached us the entire lunch hour. Mr. Jameson kept a light, one-sided conversation going. He didn’t mention “the incident” or ask to which school I would be transferring. He rambled on about his love of winter and snow. I appreciated his effort and nodded or made non-committal noises when necessary.

As I forked the last bite of food into my mouth, his demeanor changed. He stopped talking and just watched me, his expression hard to read.

I glanced around us, looking for what may have caused the difference. Everything seemed normal to me. Most of the other students had finished eating and had already left the cafeteria, including Brian and Clavin.

Curious, I glanced back at the principal.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Jameson?”

He didn’t immediately answer me. Instead, he reached across the table and lightly touched my bruise. The gesture shocked me.

“Who did this?” he asked before I could react.

I froze. I’d spoken to him, in detail, about what had happened. But his sudden memory lapse didn’t concern me. His voice did. It softly echoed, sounding as if two people said the words at the same time. One was Mr. Jameson’s voice. The other was deeper, quieter. And it didn’t belong. A cold dread spread through me.

His finger stroked my bruised flesh once more, without inflicting pain, before he withdrew his hand. I stared at him, not knowing what to do. First, some kind of phantom monster had chased me home, and now, my principal spoke as if he was possessed. Unrelated? Definitely not.

I opened my mouth to ask who I was speaking to, but the rapid click of heels on the tiled floor interrupted me. My English teacher approached the table, her hard gaze on Mr. Jameson.

She frowned at him several long moments before addressing me.

“I’ll walk you to class, Tessa.”

I kept my attention on Mr. Jameson as I stood, so I didn’t miss the change. He seemed to deflate ever so slightly, his shoulders tilting forward in a subtle hunch. Then he blinked twice and looked down at his food as if lost in thought.

I didn’t hesitate; I fled with my English teacher.

For the rest of the day, I watched everyone around me. I knew my peers perceived my actions as weirder than normal, but I couldn’t help it.

Something had taken over Mr. Jameson for a minute. If not for the voice change, I never would have known the difference. Its ability to possess people scared me. It could be anywhere, in anyone. But what did it want…other than to know who bruised my face? And why did it care about that? Why had it chased me last night?

Its appearance at dusk, given the book’s rules and warnings, made far more sense than its appearance at school. Why did we need to hide from it at night if it could find us during the day?

Uncertain about the answers to my questions, all I could do was watch and listen for the remainder of the day.

For my seventh hour, I had a study hall. With nothing to do since the homework didn’t apply to me, I asked to go to the library to research this new phenomenon in my life. I doubted the school library would have anything related to demon possession, but it didn’t hurt to look.

Wandering the racks of books, I didn’t at first notice Clavin on the other side of the bookshelf. When he spoke, I nearly screamed.

“Don’t do this to us, Tessa,” he whispered.

After what had happened at lunch, I’d almost forgotten about my problems with Brian and Clavin.

Annoyed, I pulled a book out so I could see him better. He did the same.

“Do what?” I asked.

“They are talking about you pressing charges. They said we’re old enough to be treated as adults. It was a stupid accident, Tessa. We let you out.”

His ridiculous statement had me rolling my eyes.

“And what about following me in your car? Chasing me through the woods? Were those accidents, too?”

He looked close to tears as he rubbed his face in frustration.

I felt no pity and didn’t stop.

“We both know the only reason you’re even slightly remorseful is because you were caught. Look at my face. What you did was not a funny prank. You were angry, and you were cruel. I have to live with the consequence of your actions. You should, too.”

I pushed the book back into place and walked away to find the librarian. I’d thrown a rock at Clavin and hurt him. Then, I threw his plea for forgiveness back at him. If he’d been mad before, he’d be furious now.

After my last class, the teacher walked me to my locker. I didn’t mind. Students made way for us in the hallway, and Brian and Clavin remained scarce. As I bent to clean out my locker, I wondered if they were even still in school.

Mrs. Wrightly watched me impassively as I put my notebooks and folders in my backpack. Up until today, she had been my least favorite teacher. Older and starchier, she’d lost her tolerance of youths long ago. But I found it hard to dislike her when she diligently watched my back.

I stood and smiled at her.

“Thanks, Mrs. Wrightly. I’m all set.”

“I’ll walk you to the bus.” She didn’t wait for my reply but set out in the direction of the main entry. Her sensible pumps announced our approach and cleared a path.

Appreciating the escort, I didn’t tell her that my mom’s car would be out there somewhere.

In the atrium, Mrs. Wrightly stopped so abruptly I almost collided with her. Wary that whatever happened to Mr. Jameson had gotten to her, too, I stepped around so I could see her face. But, she appeared fine as she stared with tightly compressed lips at the outer doors. Her gaze narrowed behind her overly large glasses.

Turning to see what she was looking at, I saw Brian and Clavin outside. Brian looked worried while Clavin looked angry. Brian reached out, grabbed Clavin’s jacket sleeve, and pulled Clavin close to speak in his ear. Whatever they said to each other, they were trying to be quiet about it.

As I watched, Clavin shook off Brian’s hand and pushed through the atrium doors. He walked in our direction.

“Should we go to the office?” I asked Mrs. Wrightly.

She no longer looked at Clavin but, instead, studied me. She didn’t look as upset as she had a moment ago.

“He looks mad,” I said, just in case she’d missed that detail.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Clavin interrupted.

“Mrs. Wrightly, I’m not going to cause any trouble. I just want to talk to Tessa.”

I turned away from Mrs. Wrightly, who hadn’t even blinked in Clavin’s direction, to gape at Clavin.

“What more do you need to say that you didn’t say in the library?” I asked.

“Tessa, please. Talk to Mr. Jameson for us.”

“Us? Brian’s not with you.”

Behind Clavin, I caught Brian’s gaze through the glass. Brian raised his hands in an apologetic gesture then ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at Clavin, then toward the buses. After one more glance, he walked away. The majority of the students who still lingered inside seemed to sense a confrontation brewing and hurried out the doors to the idling buses too.

Unaware of Brian’s desertion and the rapidly emptying atrium, Clavin again glanced at Mrs. Wrightly.

So did I.

Her unwavering gaze met mine. The realization that she’d not once looked away sent a shiver through me.

I took a cautious step back, moving away from both Clavin and Mrs. Wrightly. Clavin grew more agitated with my retreat and kept talking, unaware he no longer spoke to a teacher.

“It was an accident, Mrs. Wrightly. We opened the door to let her out of the closet but then heard someone coming down the hall. That’s why we closed the door again.”

For the first time, the older woman looked away from me. Her gaze fell on Clavin.

“You?” Her voice echoed oddly.

My heart picked up speed at the proof that Mrs. Wrightly was no longer herself, and I glanced at Clavin. He didn’t seem any more disturbed than he had before, so I doubted he’d heard the echo in her voice.

I prudently took another step back.

Clavin, thinking I meant to leave, reached out to stop me. At the same time, Mrs. Wrightly pivoted and moved between us. Clavin’s hand met with Mrs. Wrightly’s chest instead of my arm. I continued to back away while watching them.

Clavin stared at his hand in absolute horror and started to stammer an apology. While Clavin looked ready to pass out, Mrs. Wrightly’s focus didn’t shift. She appeared completely unconcerned with the fact Clavin had yet to remove his hand.

“Did you bruise her?” she asked in a deceptively calm manner.

The thing possessing Mrs. Wrightly had asked just about the same question at lunch.

“It was an accident,” Clavin said.

Like before, I saw the change as it jumped bodies. Mrs. Wrightly relaxed slightly as Clavin tensed. They were like two balloons deflating and inflating simultaneously. Clavin immediately focused on me.

Confused by the reason for the switch, I stopped backing up.

“Clavin? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wrightly demanded as she looked for me.

She frowned when she spotted me ten steps behind her. I barely paid her any attention because Clavin had yet to look away.

When he answered, his words rang with double voices.

“Making amends. Atoning for misdeeds.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I waited for the thing to come for me but it surprised me by turning and walking outside. Through the glass doors, I saw the first bus pull away. The rest followed in slow procession.

Clavin kept a steady pace as he crossed the large, cement quad that separated the school’s entrance from the parking lane. The final bus departed, and student cars started to drive past. He didn’t turn to walk on the sidewalk but walked straight toward the line of traffic.

Alarm pooled and solidified in my stomach.

“No!” I yelled, running forward.

Behind me, Mrs. Wrightly gasped as she, too, realized what Clavin meant to do.

As I pushed through the door, Clavin stepped off the curb in front of a car. The driver, busy with the radio, didn’t react in time. The thud of Clavin’s body hitting the hood and the squeal of tires covered my second cry. The impact knocked Clavin back a few feet. He collapsed to the ground.

I fell to my knees by his side but didn’t touch him, unsure if the thing had released Clavin yet. The cold asphalt bit into my knees as I studied him.

He calmly looked up at me without speaking. Blood streamed from his head where it had connected with the ground. The people surrounding us began to yell for help. Teachers poured from the school as they shouted for the students to move away.

The engine of the car that had hit him quieted. Someone else knelt beside him and started to ask him questions. Neither of us paid any attention.

The thing hadn’t yet left Clavin.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

He smiled and reached up to touch my face. I flinched away, and he dropped his hand.

“Now that I found you, I will take care…” Clavin’s voice was only a rasp, but the echo behind it came through strong and clear.

“Take care of what?” I asked.

His eyes rolled back in a faint. The teachers swarmed around Clavin, trying to revive him.

I stood, heart racing, and scanned those in the group surrounding us. The thing’s ability to jump from person to person terrified me. I spun a slow circle, searching for it. Everyone looked away as soon as I made eye contact. Where did it go?

“Tessa!”

I turned at the sound of my name.

Gran stood outside the crowd, trying to get to me. I ran to her, and the frightened crowd shuffled to give me a wide berth. When I reached her, I didn’t slow, but grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the accident. No one moved to stop us.

“We need to get out of here, now.” I kept my voice low and quiet. “I’ll drive.” I held my hand out. My fingers trembled badly, but she willingly surrendered the keys.

Gran hurried to her side of the car as I slid behind the wheel.

Sweat beaded on my upper lip. Something out there watched me, wanted to hurt people who hurt me, and was able to hop from body to body. And, apparently, only I could perceive it.

Shaking, I fumbled with the ignition and, after several attempts, managed to insert the keys.

I buckled as I navigated the visitor lot. In the distance, sirens blared, but I didn’t worry about them. I needed to get Gran as far away from that thing as possible. What would it do if it possessed her?

Despite the fear that still shook me, I controlled my use of the gas pedal when I really wanted to floor it. I took an indirect way home, winding through back roads until I felt certain no one followed.

Gran said nothing the entire time.

When I glanced over, I saw her gripping her purse straps tightly and eased off the gas. At some point, I’d begun using it liberally. At least, I now knew she wasn’t possessed.

Gradually, the shakes eased and the sweat dried. With only an hour of daylight to spare, I stopped driving aimlessly and headed home.

As soon as I skidded to a dusty stop in front of the house, the front door flew open. My mom hurried down the steps with a scowl.

“Inside,” I said without preamble, waving her toward the house while I moved around the car to help Gran. She was out before I reached her.

“Excuse me?” Mom looked seriously pissed.

I didn’t stop to argue with her. Didn’t need to. Gran piped up with a sharp, “Get in the house, Clare,” and beat me to the door.

Inside, boxes partially covered the table and lined the wall. Many of the cupboards stood open in various states of emptiness. Small things like throw pillows, pictures, and knickknacks no longer decorated the living room. Aunt Danielle sat in her chair with her eyes closed.

“What on earth is going on, Tessa? You were driving like a maniac. That’s the only car we have.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

I let my bag slide to the floor as I dropped into a kitchen chair. I’d thought the shaking was finished, but now, safe at home, it reclaimed me. I leaned forward, braced my elbows on my quaking knees, and rested my head in my hands.

My hand trembled so badly I hurt my own cheek, and the pain finally penetrated my shock.

The silence in the room cocooned me, but it gave me a moment to think. Inside before dark. Sleep until seven. Move often. Pick a boy before my seventeenth birthday. Have a baby, or babies, young. Watch my husband die prematurely.

What happens if I’m out after dark? Something finds me and starts to talk to me through other people. What did it want? Could it find me here? Why was it out during the day? I thought I was safe when it was light outside; otherwise, what was the point of knocking me out each night?

“Baby?”

I raised my head at the gentle touch on my shoulder. My mom stood beside me, watching me with concern.

“Please. What happened?” she asked, all anger absent from her expression.

I looked at Gran, who sat nearby, and Aunt Grace, who had just walked into the room. They all waited. Unsure of what Gran had already told them, I started with what I knew.

“When I was running for the door yesterday, it wasn’t just because of sunset. I heard something behind me. Gran says none of you saw it, but when I turned to look back, I did. It had horns on each side of its head, dark shifting skin like black smoke, and glowing green eyes.”

No one said anything, but I saw alarm creep into each of their faces. I swallowed hard around my own fear.

“Today at school, something took over Mr. Jameson’s body.” My hand drifted to my cheek as I remembered its touch. “It wanted to know who bruised me. Before I could say anything, another teacher came over to walk me to class, and it released Mr. Jameson. I watched for it, after that but didn’t see it again until the end of the day when it took over Mrs. Wrightly.

“Then, Clavin showed up.” My voice broke as I relived the terror.

“It asked if he was the one who bruised me. Clavin tried saying it was an accident. But I don’t think it cared. It jumped from Mrs. Wrightly to Clavin. Then, it walked Clavin right in front of a moving car. It said Clavin needed to atone for misdeeds.” I took a deep breath and finished on a whisper. “I think it hurt Clavin because Clavin hurt me.”

My mom sat heavily in a chair near mine.

“What is it?” I asked, looking at Gran.

“It’s what we hide from, obviously,” Aunt Danielle said. Her peacefully closed eyes belied her awareness.

We all watched her as we waited for more, but she said nothing.

“Well, we have a lot of packing to do.” Mom stood, nervously wiped her hands on her faded jeans, and viewed the enormity of our task before moving toward the dishes. She took a piece of newspaper from the pile on the table and went to the mismatched glasses on the counter.

When she reached for a glass, her fingers brushed its neighbor and nudged it off the edge. I watched it drop to the floor. The tinkling shatter sounded anticlimactic to me. Given my day, it should have been more of an explosion.

Staring at the sparkling splinters that dusted the floor, I thought of birthday candles and wondered if I’d make it another five months.