

Ancient Fire

By:

Judi Calhoun

Copyright 2013 Judi Calhoun

Published on Smashwords

Formatted by eBooksMade4You

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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To the love of my life and my biggest, fan Edwin Calhoun.

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Acknowledgement

Many thanks to my editor, Randy Hurtt, the traveling little critique group consisting of Jane, Ron, Ellen and Sue, and the wonderful people at the Berlin WNO I love you all. Special thanks to one extraordinary fan Lisa Jeffers and the brilliant talented resource of S. Lynn Beckett and her excellent cover art

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"...For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." Ephesians 6:12 NKJV

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Prologue

I didn't scream as I tumbled downward past broken vines, dirt, roots, seeing the clear blue sky above me vanish. Below me a red glow...fire softly whispering its desire to incinerate my flesh and bones.

Orange flames twisted, stretching up, to draw me into its tormenting fire. I yielded without restraint, falling ...falling... an endless descent towards the conflagration below.

I slammed hard onto a cold, stone floor instigating a cloud of ghostly dust. I coughed once before covering my mouth. Gradually, I got to my feet, realizing that nothing had broken: no pain, no fire, no burns, nothing. Now my eyes survey the dark, intriguing, cavernous chamber, more accurately a vast ominous dungeon. The fossilized floors and high stone archways, like everything else in this place, were covered in a thick layer of ash.

Illumination came from purple, shivering flames in trenches that lined every wall. Flames licked the icy absence of light. I swallowed the taste of fire, yet bitter cold air cut into my lungs like sharp scalpels. A frosty prowler of extreme hopelessness tiptoed into my mind...the horrifying neurosis of fear...ruthless executions...screams, agonizing screams. I shuddered, realizing that all trace of joyful thoughts were systematically being erased from my memory, one by one. So this is Hell.

I saw him. The Prince of Darkness; Belial, wearing a gray, tailored Armani suit...two stubby horns protruding from his slick, black hair. He was perched on a baroque throne, carved with a dragon leering down on the narcissistic king. The heavy bodies of two black snakes encircled the chair, furnishing arms. On their serpentine heads, the Prince of Darkness rested his hands.

I could not move, my feet seemed cemented in place by some inexplicable power. I watched the many shadows creep past me, whispering, scurrying like frightened bugs into the darkness. Not one of them even noticed me standing in full view, their glowing eyes were trained on only one thing, the man kneeling in front of the throne.

"You have a new job for me, Master?" His voice sounded human, unlike the other evil spirits now whispering with raspy amusement.

Yet, I was struck most of all by his pale complexion, blonde hair, and white suit...a vivid spotlight completely out of place in comparison with the rest of the dark, sinister creatures.

"A very important job Asmodeus," Belial said, as he gestured toward a silver movie screen suspended in mid-air between them, flickering with ghost light.

I struggled to make out the image, but couldn't.

"This one's been a real problem," said Belial, his lips curling up in disgust. "I've been careless in the past, underestimating her talents, foolishly sending the wrong servants, only to have them punished at her hands. Every attempt to destroy her has failed. Does the name Shonna Wells mean anything to you?"

I gasped at hearing my name. A great roar of jeering rose from the agitated shadows, mocking.

Asmodeus grimaced and shook his head no.

Belial frowned. "I find that hard to believe. You hear what happens when I say her name. I had to deal with this same...no. No, I refuse to say his name; ever again...you

know that rat. Now this offspring...well, it's ridiculous!"

"My lord, with all due respect, you forget that I've been away attending to your business in the Middle East." His eyes squinted as he studied the image. "I admit, I don't know her, but...ah, yes, I do remember him." His mouth huffed with slight annoyance. "What a pleasure it was to end his reign of torment."

Belial scrutinized Asmodeus as if the man were some abnormal germ specimen. "I'd almost completely forgotten." His lips twitched almost into a smile. "You did the Underworld a real service that day. Hmm..." he rubbed the light stubble on his chin. "I understand this young Slayer is beneath your usual caliber of clientele. Yet, I think this job may be perfect for you. Yes...perfect."

"I am honored, Master." Asmodeus bowed slightly as he climbed to his feet. "Tell me, Lord, is this the only one? Are there more offspring expected?"

"Well, it's a vicious circle, my friend. One never knows. New ones are reborn all the time. Lucky for us, things have changed."

"Changed?" Asmodeus' eyes went wide. "There's been a change in the System? Why, that's wonderful news. When did this happen, Master?"

Belial leapt to his feet. "You fool! You dare mention the System to me! Do you think I want to be reminded? It makes me sick, the power He gives His puny minions." He spat out curses.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Asmodeus said.

I took in a shallow breath, as this dark world grew suddenly silent. All demonic heckling instantly stopped. Static seemed to snap in the cold air. Tiny lines formed a mask of regret on Asmodeus' face, but it was too late; he'd already spoken the dreadful words.

"I...forgive... NO ONE!" Belial voice blistered with rage. "Especially my elect!"

Matching his anger, large flames exploded from beneath his throne, licking the air, greedily stealing precious oxygen. His face went blank; his eyes flashed green before they rolled back inside his head, as if he'd unexpectedly dropped dead. There was an eerie sound of bones crunching, followed by the wet noise of flesh tearing. A million green scales popped out, like giant zits. His hair slid backward while his face protruded outward, transforming into the head of a king cobra snake.

The Cobra's giant head, now fully formed, swayed absurdly from the neck of Belial's suit. With his small lizard hands, he pointed one very long finger at the hole that dropped off into unspeakable evil. "Asmodeus may join my tormented souls in prison, today?" His voice was joyously mocking his own servant. "Do I need to...punissssh?" Hissing the last word, with a satisfying smile, a thin forked tongue slid out between razor sharp fangs.

From the darkened caverns, the mocking laughter reached an echoing crescendo.

Asmodeus' face turned gray. Yet I could tell, he was not easily frightened, not like the other night creatures shaking with dread. "There's no need for drastic measures, Master." He raised white palms up in front of the snake's eyes. "These hands have shed an ocean of blood. Your prison is filled with victims of my great talent. You know me. You know what I can do. I am an expert at torture and deception. I can easily end the life of one insignificant, teenage girl."

"I know your skills." The snake whispered. "That's why I summoned you here."

He stretched his head straight up and groaned. The fire swiftly fizzled out. Belial transformed back into his bleak human form. "Deception is exactly what I want," he said, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair. "Torture her if you like. Really, I don't care one way or the other, but when you're finished having fun..." He leaned close casting a dark shadow over Asmodeus' face, "I want her dead!"

"As you wish, my Lord," said Asmodeus, his voice lowering to a whisper. "She's as good as dead now."

The faceless demons resounded with chant Shonna Wells is dead.

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Chapter 1

Shonna Wells is dead!

I gasped, violently jerking upright, my head filled with the strangest hum from that dreadful chant.

The white pages of my sketchpad were smeared with dirt, having tumbled from my lap. Invisible frosty fingers traced every bone up my spine. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. I winced from the pain vibrating in my shoulder blade, where I had been leaning too long against the granite headstone. I didn't even remember closing my eyes.

The Prince of Darkness plotting my death—nothing new there. Yeah, but who is the other creeper? I shook my head, some new breed of demon wearing designer clothes? I took a deep breath of clean air. "What's wrong with me?" I whispered into the darkness. How is it possible that my subconscious mind could take a little trip into the Underworld Labyrinth while I slept on my dad's grave?

I'd heard about nightmares that were out-of-body real. I was always a little jealous of people who experienced perfect recall. Until now, only bits and pieces of my dream world surfaced no matter how hard I racked my brain, but this, yeah, this was way more than just some freaky nightmare. Even the horrid smell still lingered inside my nose! Is this what happens to people who fall asleep in cemeteries? They imagine going into the Underworld Labyrinth? I guess it's just the beginning of the crazies...

A gentle breeze tossed strands of brown hair across my nose and cheek. I brushed them away, wrenching myself to my feet, shaking loose the rest of the dirt from my sketchpad. I stuffed it deep inside my bag.

I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as they touched the cold ridges, tracing the first three letters cut into the polished granite: S-A-M. Samuel Robert Wells, just Sam to everyone else in New Bedford, but dad to me.

The moment I started to leave, I could almost feel the separation physically shredding my heart, tearing it like paper. I saw the pieces drift down right through the shiny metal lid with blue satin lining, coming to rest on dad's sleeping chest.

"That's ridiculous!" Mom said inside my head. I could not get her out. It was always the same static, broadcasting mom 24/7. "Bee, you know your father's not under that dirt. He's in heaven."

I know, for crying out loud! Yet this was the last place I saw him, six years ago today. That's why I come, to curl up against his stone, against him. If I am quiet—easy in this place--I can almost feel his arms cradling me saying, "I love you, little bee."

His life was taken from me too soon. Mom said a heart attack, but that was a lie. I had heard my relatives whispering, stopping only when I came in the viewing room at the wake. Everything they said was true. My dad, Sam Wells had been murdered.

I glanced at my watch- 8:05. I'd been in Zombie-land dreaming for three hours. If mom were home, she'd be pacing. I was pretty sure she was still out on her date.

Stepping softly on a thick carpet of freshly mown grass, I headed for the gate, when a weird noise reached my ears. Darkness stirred. I hesitated, listening to the rush of distant wind, my focus narrowed onto Goat Hill. An eerie beacon of green light glowed bright in the night sky.

I had heard the legends. It was impossible not to hear about ghostly hauntings living in our small community of New Bedford, Massachusetts. Sure, the cemetery had old stones dating back before the Civil War and they are definitely spooky in the light of a full moon. I'd be the first to admit seeing unexplained things, but the truth is, these stories are nothing more than urban legends, yet somehow are fundamental to this town's existence. Residents pass stories around like precious family photos, believing them to be as real as the dead saints they trust in for protection.

Still, apart from tonight's weird light show, something didn't feel right. Instead of leaving, I turned right at the fork. Loose gravel crackled beneath my sneakers as I climbed the steep road leading up to Goat Hill.

Any normal girl alone at night in a cemetery might be running and screaming, but I wasn't normal. I carried a medieval sword and kill demons. There was no fear inside of me for ugly monsters. People on the other hand, were dangerous and unpredictable.

I am not the only Slayer recruited to kill demons. So I've been told by my Cherubim mentor, Ariel, who had trained me to destroy evil. Ariel claimed that most Slayers are teens, but I've never met another. It's not like I don't want to, because I do. Some days it's all I can think about.

I was not fortuned with the gift of discernment like others that sure would make it easier to spot the Slayers from the rest of the blue jeans and hoodies. Unless Jefferson High suffered a major demonic attack, the Super Heroes looked like everyone else.

The moon's hazy light cast long shadows across the ground. I moved like a ghost past tombs tangled in dead vines and rotting leaves. I inhaled that dreadful toxic mixture of sulfur and rotten eggs—the stench of demons. I should have known.

As I crested the hill, I saw a gravestone emitting green translucent shafts that stretched upward into the night sky like a steady searchlight. Magical. Hypnotic. Dangerous.

A man was standing in front of the light with his back to me. With small movements I backed, away, feeling my clothes transform into my black leather armor. Steel spikes sprang from my shoulder blades and forearms; the ribbed metal vest, in soundless fashion snapped in place. My faith is perfected; all it took now was to think, armor on...ready to kill.

I stepped lightly, my eyes focused on the back of his head. My foot found a branch causing a loud, startling crunch. He jerked his head toward me, while I ducked behind a crumbling limestone angel. My heart hammered so loud I swore he must have heard it too.

After waiting about sixty seconds, I stole a peek, squinting in an attempt to keep my gaze from the mesmerizing light and fixed only on the man. He looked nothing like the monsters I kill. To an untrained eye, he could have been any normal, shirtless guy. Except, I knew instinctively he had come from the Underworld Labyrinth. Of course, the putrid smell and the huge poisonous snake circling his tattooed torso were also a dead give-away.

I could easily take him out. Yet, some impulse kept me well hidden, watching. He glanced around like he was searching for ...for what?

The green glow had a spellbinding effect. I wanted to stare at it. Was that its purpose? To distract whoever might be snooping around?

A strong gust of wind blasted the hillside, followed by a burst of brilliant light, illuminating everything green for only a second before thrusting my world into inky blackness. He was gone.

I blinked a few hundred times, trying to rid my eyes of spots before stumbling toward the gravestone. I touched the carved lettering, impossible to read, except for the sizable initials: A.E.B. Initials instead of a name. Seriously, who does that? What was the Underworld's fascination with this grave anyway? It made no sense.

I mentally shook myself before leaving. It was really disturbing to think that other creatures had prowled the cemetery while I lay sleeping a short distance down the hill.

A thick layer of fog had enshrouded the street lamps outside the cemetery gate. That meant a temperature change, another sure-fire sign of demons. My whole body pushed hard against the Iron Gate to squeeze outside. Something not human whooshed past me, whispering. Demons.

I glanced around the nearly deserted street, hearing the rhythmic tapping of an old man's cane on the sidewalk. The man wore a floppy hat and was at least eighty, judging by his age spots and wrinkles. His body was bent like the twisted wood on his walking stick. He mumbled in wearisome fashion, as he crept along in front of a nearby field.

Riding his back was a Runt demon...small and easy enough for any newbie Slayer to handle. For me; a fast kill and I am heading home.

The Runt's hairy fists hammered as if floppy hat was his own personal training bag. The old man flinched with each painful blow, having no idea of the demon's presence, like so many others believing that their sufferings are symptomatic of old age. Not true. An unseen wickedness exists with us in this world, demons...predators from Hell... preying on the weak and ignorant.

I sprinted across the street, coming up behind him, tossing my army bag into the field, feeling my clothes shift, into my armor. Instinctively, I reached across my upper arm, touching the badge that turned into a six-foot shield when torn off. No, I wont need it. Not for this small demon.

All of my instincts zoomed into focus...razor sharp, deadly, channeling Triune power. Every inch of me, from my head to the tips of my pink, polished toenails, was charged with raw energy.

"He is coming, Slayer." The Runt pointed his finger toward the cemetery gate. "You will die."

My eyes glanced fast toward the cemetery. It was dark, empty, another typical demonic lie. "You are so wrong Runt," I said. "You're the only one who's going to die, tonight."

His smile melted into a sneer and he made a nasty gesture with his middle finger. Then like some kind of lunatic, he laughed and pounded his fists even harder into the man's back.

The old man's expression was a mixture of confusion and fear. "I'm going to die?" He repeated my own words, his voice ratty, and his breath smelling like old wine. "Get lost, little girl! Leave me alone!"

Adding to the fact that he could not physically see or hear the demon, only feel its pain, he was also blind to my sword. Most human eyes cannot see spiritual weapons. Even if he could see them, it was impossible for my sword to cut flesh. I didn't have time to explain any of this. "No," I said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Crazy punk kids," the old man grumbled.

The demon bared his pointed teeth at me in a sort of weird half smile. "The master requires his soul...tonight." He chuckled as he gently stroked the man's hair. "I got him first. He's mine, all mine."

The man might be a vile murderer for all I knew. It wasn't my job to judge, only to defend, and since he was not dead yet, there was still hope, and Hell didn't have any real claim.

"Let him go, Runt!" said a voice from the darkness of the field. "He's my kill!" I recognized the deep disembodied voice of the vampire Lorcan. It wasn't the first time I had fought him and it would not be the last. He was a colossal pain in the neck, literally.

If Belial had a contract on this guy, every demon wanting rank would be hunting him. I wondered just how many were here ready to strike.

The Runt's trance-like, vacant eyes studied my sword. His fingers curled around the man's neck and he began to squeeze.

The twisted cane slipped from floppy hats fingers, rattling once or twice as it bounced on the cement. The man's mouth opened wide. His face grimaced in horror as he reached for his throat, gasping for air.

"YESHER!" I shouted, fetching the power that kills all beasts that inflict misery on the children of earth. My weapon understood the spiritual wisdom of this powerful name. That name shook the very foundation of life. There was no evil dominion on this earth or under it that could ever stand against it...ever!

I sliced the Runt in half. Loud screams were followed by rank odor as it vanished. Why are the small ones always the noisiest?

I heard the growl, and readied myself for the attack. Lorcan wasted no time. He sunk his teeth into the man's neck. The air moved over me. The wind of an evil Stunner spirit stirred my hair as it whooshed past, trying to push the vampire off the man, doing my job.

My sword was hallowed metal, fiery hot. I shoved the tip into Lorcan's neck, he jerked back, but still held onto the old man. "Slayer," he said, huffing in frustration. "This man's life is over. Let me take him now before the Stunner gets him. You and I know, that nothing would be left of him."

"Let him go!" I screamed.

"I could tear your heart out right now and eat it!" He cussed, but reluctantly dropped the old man; no, it was more like he pushed him. The man staggered, losing his footing, he fell backward onto the sidewalk.

"One is coming," said Lorcan, standing up...towering over me, yet still keeping his distance from my sword. "He'll put an end to our torment."

I grit my teeth. "Yesher!" I shouted again and flung my sword watching it zoom faster than he could vanish, cutting right into his chest. Sending him back to the Labyrinth.

The old man groaned as he tried to stand.

"Are you okay?" I asked, offering my hand.

He sneered at me, using his cane to draw himself up. Grasping his bloody neck, he hobbled away, still mumbling and cursing under his breath.

"You're welcome!" I yelled after him. Hope you stay alive tonight.

I bent down to pick up my sword, my eyes shifted around the seemingly empty field. Had other demons followed him? There would only be one reason to stick around... to earn a bigger reward, for killing...me.

A winged shadow zoomed over head...I shifted my weight onto both feet, preparing for the deadly Stunner's attack. Sharp spikes ran up and down his back in rows between leathery pterodactyl-sized wings, beating the air in an almost imperceptible blur. He struck my arm, shoving me sideways, tearing the blade from my fingers. I helplessly watched it go spinning high up into the night sky. I sucked in a breath...I was separated from the power!

I spotted it falling end over end. I watched, anticipating where it would land. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a hand stretching out to capture it.

Another Slayer. Standing right there. Dazzling light flashed over him for only half a second, from the headlamps of a distant passing car. He smiled and tossed my sword back, but I didn't grab for it. I was lost...completely distracted by this vision of leather and muscle. He was perfect.

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Chapter 2

His head bent slightly forward, studying me; a modest smile formed at the corners of his mouth. He looked familiar. I couldn't place him.

My sword landed in the dirt a few yards away. I knew I should scramble to pick it up, but I ignored the warning inside my head because I was mesmerized by this manifestation of leather and steel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the swift movement of the Stunner -circling overhead. He made a strange rattling sound...but my alarms were turned off.

I was easy prey.

My eyes took in every inch of this Warrior Slayer. His strong shoulders...accentuated by the tight fit of his leather. Down his chest plate, ripples of muscles sculpted in seamless precision. He stood tall, formidable. His fingers gripped the hilt of his heavy broad sword firmly and yet with an ease of confidence as if he knew he would never fail.

No.

Never.

I was under his spell...a fawn frozen in headlamps. I watched hypnotically as he moved with incredible speed to end the life of the vampire demon.

The Stunner came at me fast. I only had time to duck my head. His claws tore into my armor and sliced my shoulder open. Pain. Blinding pain. I yelled out before collapsing, and wondered if my arm had been completely torn from its socket.

Trails of blood oozed down my back. My vision blurred briefly, and I bent to vomit, closing my eyes tightly fighting the weakness that sought to drain my strength. Not from my injury...from my stupid fear...medical stuff, doctors, needles, scalpels all equaled pain and fear. Just the thought caused the same reaction, nausea.

I opened my eyes seeing the Stunner's bloodthirsty smile flash with delight. He has me. He knows it.

In the split second that it took him to lunge, something silver flashed in front of my eyes. I blinked. It was a sword.

My sword.

The Stunner squealed as the metal cut into his chest; brown blood sprayed like a sprinkler system. The demon dissolved in mid-fall.

An outstretched hand reached down to help me up.

"You okay, Shonna?" He held my surplus army bag and his lips were saying my name like we were old friends. Who the heck is he?

I hesitated a second before taking his hand and letting him pull me up.

Brushing the dirt from my clothes, I struggled to recall where I'd seen this unbelievably cute guy before but nothing came together in my brain.

The shifting of my armor caused the wound in my shoulder to open. I winced as I felt another trail of blood trickle down. I grabbed my bag from his hand, frantically searching, finally finding a large square bandage. I struggled to open it. He hovered close, watching me. Making my heart beat ridiculously fast, like I wasn't light-headed enough.

"Let me help you do that," he said softly.

Before I could object, he had the bandage. I reluctantly twisted my hair into my barrette. I felt him pull the loose neckline of my shirt over my shoulder. His warm breath on my back caused a shudder. The moment his fingers connected with the coolness of my skin, a curious weakness drained me. My brain was floating into a dreamy fog.

I could feel him cleaning the blood off with his shirt or mine, I wasn't sure. He gently pressed the sticky pad to my skin. "That should stop the bleeding," he whispered. Then he unclipped my barrette and ran his fingers through my hair to fix it. Odd. Do guys really do that? I was still going all fuzzy in the head...the effect of his fingers didn't help any, when just like that, I knew who he was. I turned to face him.

"You're Jake Hannaford?"

He smiled and nodded, handing me my brown barrette.

Well what do you know, Jefferson High's captain of the basketball team, popular with all the girls, was a Slayer. I would never have guessed. Not in a million years!

"How do you know me?" I asked.

"Sam Wells. He was your father, right?" said Jake.

"You knew my dad?" I took a step back.

"Not exactly. I heard he was somewhat of a hero...an expert in Triune power. Maybe even the best."

"My dad?" My eyebrows shot up. "My dad...was a Slayer?"

I could hardly believe those words were coming out of my own mouth, let alone his. Yet, I read it on his face. Jake was serious. How? How did he know about dad, and not me? Anger flashed like a match striking phosphorus. Why didn't Ariel tell me? This is pretty important stuff! It was too important for him to leave me in the dark all these years? Now, I wondered just how many other things my trainer had kept from me.

Of course, when I thought about it, it all made perfect sense, dad had been fascinated with demons; those Sunday night lessons... teaching me about armor and how to fight. I was beginning to realize that all of the secrecy concerning his death had been more front-page news in the spiritual community than I could even imagine.

Jake's gaze dropped down to his black Chucks. He nervously kicked at pebbles. "Look, I'm... sorry. I...I thought you knew." He stumbled over his words. "You must take after him, because you're a really good fighter, you know."

I frowned at him. I wasn't sure if he meant that as a real compliment or did he just feel the need to say something nice since he'd left me stunned and completely shocked.

"You're not a bad fighter yourself." I managed.

"You think so?" he said, smiling. "I guess that's because I've been at it a little longer than you."

"Seriously?" I asked squinting. "Aren't you my age?"

"When did you get your powers?" he asked.

I thought for a minute, "Four years ago. I had a visit from-"

"Ariel," he cut in. "Six years for me." He raised his head with a slight air of superiority. Give me a break! Did he think this was a competition? Okay so you won buddy, end of story. I rolled my eyes and turned to leave.

"You live near here?" he asked, his fingers brushing my arm, causing me a slight shudder. I vaguely gestured toward my neighborhood, "Spring Street."

"I'll walk you home."

"I don't need any help getting home." Exactly why I said that was strange even to me. I couldn't understand my own arrogance. I was beginning to have one of those "be sweet...don't go playing all offended" arguments with myself. After all, I had this perfect and wonderful opportunity to talk with another Slayer, which, I had hoped would be a girl. Not this really cute, popular guy from school. I might as well face it. I was going to lose this argument. Sure enough, I caved the instant he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at me. "I'm heading the same way," he said.

"I guess that would be kind of nice. Thanks." We started to walk. I glanced over at him noticing he still wore that smug little smile.

"You never answered my question," I said.

"Which one?"

I waved my hand back toward the empty field. "What were you doing here?"

"I like to walk," he said. "It gives me time to think. I saw the demons, watched you fighting, and thought you could use some help." He bent his head to the side to look me in the eyes. "Was that a random attack or were you defending an innocent?"

I heard his question, but I was busy studying the tiny dot just under his right eye, it was a perfect circle. A beauty mark, that's what mom called them, and for the first time I had to agree with her. His eyes were an incredible shade of light gold with teeny flecks of cinnamon.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Um...sorry." Crap! "Yeah, um...he was a death contract."

Jake stopped walking. "Belial had a claim. You could have been killed. There might have been hundreds of demons here tonight. I guess it's a good thing I came along when I did."

"I was doing alright."

"Without your sword?"

I scowled at him and turned to leave.

He reached for me. "Wait! I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I really meant what I said before. You have your father's talent. Seeing you in action, I have no doubt you would have done some real damage. Look, we seem to be getting off to a bad start here, can we change the subject?"

"Okay," I said. "I see you at school. You're a junior, right?"

"Senior," he corrected.

I shifted nervously watching his eyes explore me from head to toe. Why do guys do that? "Any others...like us...at school?" I asked to get his focus off my body and onto my face.

"A few," he said. "Nate and David Cross. You know, we sit together at lunch, you should join us."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, It's good strategy to stick together."

"Sounds like you're recruiting an army." I said.

He gave me a sidelong glance then flashed his pearly whites. "Not a bad idea."

When he wasn't acting all smug, there was something overtly charming about him. I watched his eyes glanced back toward the empty field; he was nervously pushing his hair from his face. I wondered, did he feel like it was his responsibility to carry on our conversation. Our feet shifted in the dirt, but we didn't move to leave.

"This thing we do for Yesher, it's a pretty big sacrifice," I said. "Do you ever wonder if we do any real permanent damage to the Underworld?"

Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a deep breath. "Sure, I wonder about that all the time. I think the risks we take are worth it, don't you?" His brow furrowed. "It's not always about us. You knew that, right?"

Great! Now he thinks I'm worried about myself. I groaned inside but smiled at him. "Totally worth it," I said. I am so pathetic!

I thought about my dream and the demon I saw in the cemetery. I considered telling him but, no, I wouldn't want to risk him thinking I was completely bonkers. Besides, in spite of the bad moments, I was enjoying our one-on-one.

He moved closer, real close, inches from my face; his brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Shonna," he said giving me an evocative look that suggested perhaps we could be more than just brother-and-sister friends. "It's important to stay close. We need each other...as a group...not just strength in numbers, but iron sharpening iron."

I nodded weakly. He'd entered my personal space, standing much too close for someone way too good-looking to ignore. This intimate toe-to-toe contact had a strange compelling effect on my body. I should have stepped back, but my feet refused. I struggled to hide my feelings. Really, the idea of melting into a puddle at his feet seemed like a quick and painless way to go. I think he knew how utterly powerless I was feeling, because he smiled, a self-satisfied grin, kind of smug, not in an arrogant way.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand.

The warmth of his fingers entwined in mine sent love messages to my brain. It was all so wonderful and yet so weird. After all, we'd only just met, even if he'd seen me at school. We had never really spoken until tonight.

We climbed the small embankment that led up to my street. Mom's jeep was not in the driveway. Except for the porch light, my house was dark...empty. She was still out on her date. I did not want to think about her love life, not while I was holding Jake's hand.

It started to rain. By the time I got inside, I was drenched. My thoughts returned to Jake as I climbed into bed; the way his eyes studied me...I could still feel the touch of his fingers on my skin. I was completely surprised by his behavior...did he like me?

I had thought he might, until we said goodnight. Then there was this horrible awkward moment in the driveway when I thought he was going to kiss me and I had closed my eyes. Did I lean too? Ugh! I hope not. He was only bending over to pick up my stupid barrette that had fallen from my pocket.

* * *

Chapter 3

I ran the brush across my lips, staring into the small mirror that Gabby had conveniently hung inside my locker. I hated the frown lines that cut into my forehead. The more I kept thinking, the more I frowned. Ugh!

I was thinking of my Superhero encounter. Did I really fight demons with one of the cutest guys at Jefferson? Did Jake Hannaford really hold my hand and tell me I should sit at his table? I shook my head. It all seemed like some surreal, phantasmagorical dream.

"Shonna," said a smooth male voice. Even before I glanced in the mirror, I knew it was Jake. I gulped hard and smiled before turning. "How'd you find my locker?"

He pointed down the hall to a group of girls chatting, all gazing at me with curious amusement. Gabby stood in the middle, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow and mouthing at me, "We'll talk later," before heading off. Later really meant being unpleasantly interrogated by my best friend during third period History.

I knew she would be thinking that Jake and I were hooking up. I could not deal with that, not while Jake was standing right here in front of me, making my heart flutter.

"I wanted to remind you about our lunch date."

Date!

"Look, I...umm...I can't ditch Gabby," I said. "Do you mind if I bring her with...?"

His eyes narrowed, "She's not one of us...right?"

I nervously played with the zipper pull on my hoody. "She's not a Slayer."

He seemed to process this for what felt like an eternity. I heard giggling and noticed a group of senior girls, whispering and point at us...at me.

Jake smiled. "That's okay, bring her...I'll see you both at lunch. Later."

I walked toward my classroom door, my head still turned, watching Jake disappear into the rush of students, pleased that he had agreed to include Gabby. I didn't notice the door was open. When I turned around I slammed right into it; hitting my head, feeling my books fall from my arms and land in a pile at my feet.

The senior girls burst out laughing as my homework skidded across the floor. I scrambled-red-faced, to retrieve my books and papers, trying to rescue my cool, and pretending it was perfectly fine despite the blinding headache.

To most of these gossip girls, I was just another wannabe trying to hit on Jake. They had no clue what creatures watched them from the shadows, waiting to strike. If any of them caught sight of the hideous demons I chopped to pieces, they would pee their pants. So, yeah, why wouldn't I want to join Jake and his Slayer friends, Nate and David Cross for lunch? The thought of finally belonging to a group gave me new hope. I smiled as I picked up my last book and placed it on top of the pile.

Now I couldn't wait for lunch, in spite of the fact that Gabby would freak at the idea of sitting through a lunch period with the only guy in the entire school that teases her...Nate Cross.

In History class, I slipped into my seat next to Gabby. She was wearing her skinny black jeans and pale blue sweater, which perfectly matched her blue Chucks.

"So... Jake, huh?" she asked.

"It's nothing."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrow, like she always does when she thinks I am lying. "Jake. Jake Hannaford, and he is so hot, by the way, wants to know where my best friend's locker is... soooo what's up with that? This is epic. Tell me everything!"

"He wants me to meet him at lunch."

"You've got to go! He is so into you! I can tell."

"It's not what you think," I whispered, trying to keep Mrs. Gilbert, who was passing out papers, from overhearing. "He wants me to sit with him and his friends at lunch."

I watched her expression shift in confusion.

"He said you can come too...if you like," I added. "I really want you to, please Gabby, please?"

"Is this like a permanent thing?"

"It sounds like it." I whispered.

Gabby waited for Mrs. Gilbert to return to the front, before leaning again. "Does he hang out with that creepy Nate Cross?"

Here it comes!

"Yes. He does," I said.

"I hate him," she slid down in her seat, pouting. "He calls me Bleater!"

Her hatred stemmed from more than just name-calling. Like last summer for instance, when Gabby and the girls from Drama class went skinny-dipping in the lake. Nate jacked her clothes, only hers. They could find only a hand towel in the car. Apparently, the entire boys baseball team watched her run from the lake to the car. Not cool. She called me on her cell, all hysterical. I drove to the lake to bring her clothes. She never forgot how Nate had humiliated her. I don't think she ever will.

I tried to make light of everything, telling her that Nate calls everyone, "Bleater."

"Not you," she quickly pointed out.

She was right. Now I knew why. They were Slayers, like me. And that stupid name was reserved for all non-Slayer types. Still, it didn't make it right and it did not explain why he picked on Gabby.

"You really want me to hang out with them...don't you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Figures!" She said. "You owe me for this...big time!"

Forty-five minutes later, we entered the noisy cafeteria. Jake motioned for us to join him. He was sitting with the Cross brothers at a table along the windowless wall. Nate Cross, a thin beanpole with dark brown hair and slits for eyes, was laughing hilariously at something his brother, David had said. David Cross was a slightly shorter version of his brother only his hair had blond highlights and he reminded me of a surfer.

I went through the line, not really paying any attention to my food choices, because my heart was racing like a thoroughbred at the thought of sitting with Jake. I tried to snap out of it, but it was hopeless. I walked swiftly toward their table, Gabby following a step behind.

Jake, always playing the part, moved over to make room. I slipped in between him and David feeling elated. He wants me next to him. Yes!

Gabby stood with her tray behind David, clearing her throat, getting louder until he stood up and moved rather unenthusiastically. I caught David rolling his eyes at Nate. That was Nate's cue to start.

"Man," he said, holding his nose, "Something reeks." He gave his brother a nudge, "Smells bad like lost sheep... bleaters."

Jake shot him a warning glance. "Seriously Nate? Shut-up!"

"Dude," He faked an innocent look. "I said something smells funny."

"No Bro," David corrected, "you said, you smell something bad."

"Baaaaddd!" Nate brayed, laughing hysterically and snorting like a pig.

Gabby's eyes narrowed as she leaned across the table towards Nate. "Like you're so special ... right?"

"I'm no Bleater!" he snapped.

I begged Gabby with my eyes, please try to be nice!

"He started it!"

"Nate's got a big mouth!" said Jake. "He doesn't know when to shut up."

Nate wasn't even the slightest bit annoyed by Jake's anger. He was still smiling as he leaned to whisper into David's ear.

"Yeah, come on, Bro... be sweet," David's lips mocked a kiss. They continued to punch each other and blow kisses.

It felt like I was suddenly back in the fifth grade. These were the demon killers, I wanted to lunch with? Exactly what did Jake see in these clowns? He was the only reason I even considered staying in my seat and enduring this madness.

My body was immensely aware of his closeness and even the slightest movement like his thigh resting snugly against mine, or his arm brushing my shoulder, sent small electrical charges into my head, destroying forever that part of my brain that used any conventional wisdom.

A chair squealed across the old linoleum floor, pulling me out of my romantic fog. Gabby had stood up, her eyes murderously blazing at Nate. She held her tray like she was considering it as a weapon, but instead she started to leave. "We'll talk later," she said to me. Tossing her food in the trash, she stormed off.

I suddenly felt nauseous with guilt. Had I so callously fed my best friend to these unscrupulous dogs?

By the time, I got home and plugged, my dead phone into the charger I had five text messages from Gabby. I didn't have to read all of them, just the last one.

How could U invite me 2 that freak show? I want 2 hurt Nate. I want 2 roll over his Mercedes, crush it... destroy it with a big Abrams tank. Call me!

* * *

Chapter 4

The semi-full moon broke loose of the clouds, illuminating the sleeping neighborhood. I levitated light as a feather, compelled by some supernatural force gliding me down the dark streets like a ghost. My bathrobe flapped in the breeze and my hair tangled...I didn't bother to yank it free.

I was on Hemlock Street, next to Homestead Cemetery. A swirling mist carried me past a mailbox... Kellogg embossed in gold lettering...and up the driveway.

Two sizable white stone pillars held the black iron gates that closed the world out from this wealthy estate. I looked up to see vicious eyes watching my every move. Slowly I realized the fierce lions' eyes were only stone sentries guarding the entrance. The gates made no noise as they opened to me and I drifted up the winding path.

A Tudor-style mansion sat behind scattered tall bushes and a dense entangled mass of vines. The dark diamond-paned windows shed no warmth of home.

Carved walnut doors creaked as they opened without human hands. The house was urging me inside, drawing me into the foyer and up the stairs. A cool veil of mist rushed over me, circling around, urgently pushing me toward voices raised in anger. I could smell death, almost taste it in my mouth. I was propelled into a spacious bedroom.

At the foot of a king-sized bed, a shadowy figure of a blond man was crouched over another man, the weight of his knee pressed into his stomach.

The blond man easily pinned the victim lying on the white carpet, as he bucked and struggled for freedom. His hands were bound over his head, tied to the bedpost with a red silk necktie.

"Take my wallet!" He pleaded. "I have money, lots of it."

"I don't want your money," said the blond attacker. "I want you dead." He pulled out a large Bowie knife and held it above the man's chest.

"Why? Why kill me?" he asked.

"It's nothing personal," he said calmly. "I just need a house and I like yours."

Everything inside me screamed with a frustrating desire to save him. I reached for my sword, realizing too late that I didn't have my weapon.

The psychopath raised his knife. I tried to yell at the maniac, but my tongue was silent. I watched in shock as he thrust the knife into the man's chest repeatedly.

For one brief moment, the helpless victim thrashed wildly, wailing in utter anguish. With one last spasm, his body lay very still, his blood oozing onto the white carpet.

I covered my mouth. I started to sob as horror washed over me with the stark realization that the man was dead.

Moonlight spilled into the bedroom as the murderer stood up, his clothes splattered with the dark stains of blood. I wanted to step back and run, but I could not move from that spot.

He lifted his eyes, leering directly at me. He frowned and a puzzled expression crossed his face. Slowly, his black eyes widened with recognition.

He saw me!

My world disappeared.

I awoke drenched in a cold sweat, hyperventilating... I had just witnessed a murder?

The trembling would not stop. I reached for my water on the nightstand and gulped down shaky mouthfuls of the cool liquid. I fought the sobs that were building in my chest. I attempted to calm my nerves, yet I failed miserably. I kept thinking about those eyes...murderous eyes now swiftly slipping from my memory. I fought to recall every detail of his face...Think! I needed to know who this madman was...like a misty vapor, it faded away from my mind, too quickly.

I pulled my sketchpad from my bag and frantically sketched his dark, hate-filled eyes...pupils almost black. Why couldn't I see the rest of his face? Exhausted, I let my head fall back on the pillow. His words echoed in my brain; "I just want your house." He didn't even know the man before he ended his life.

I lay awake for hours, debating with myself about calling the police and reporting the murder. Of course, it was just a nightmare. I wondered why I'd been having so many lately?

Mom came home an hour early. In a daze, she dropped down onto the sofa. Her usual radiant smile was gone.

I always wished I had mom's full lips, smooth, dark complexion, and petite figure. I took after my dad being on the ultra thin side, with large, green eyes. Like me, dad had been a quiet, deep thinker. What bothered me, though, was that he always appeared to be holding back, keeping secrets; at least it felt that way to me. Mom didn't seem to notice. Perhaps they got along so well because she trusted him so completely for every little thing.

Over the lonely years without dad, we had developed a trusting and somewhat close relationship; in spite of her need to become annoyingly overprotective. Lately, she seemed to lose her good judgment when it came to matters of the heart. Every blind date led to more, painful rejections and her broken heart was turning her almost bitter.

I walked into the living room, hearing her mumbling to herself.

"What's wrong?"

"Awful, I can hardly believe it." Her sad face stared helplessly into my worried eyes. "He's dead. Everyone's talking about it ...another murder here in our small town."

I placed my hand on mom's shoulder. "Was it someone we know?"

"I did. I knew him...not very well. Do you remember me telling you about Mr. Kellogg? I sold him that mansion over on Hemlock last year."

I was thinking, the name sounded familiar.

"What happened, was it a robbery?"

She frowned and whispered. "He was stabbed repeatedly...murdered!"

Something was moving fast in the back of my mind. My dream... my nightmare, vividly playing like a movie in my head. The shadowy blond man with the knife... the victim begging for his life. My hand shot up to my mouth. All my blood just drained into my feet.

"Honey, you okay?" Mom asked, frowning.

I brushed my hair back from my face, trying to pull myself together. "I'm okay." I swallowed hard.

She had that, what on earth is wrong with you look on her face.

"Honest, mom, I'm fine," I lied, wanting to run to my room and sob.

"Did you know Mr. Kellogg?"

Her question stopped me cold.

"No...I." I stammered. "I never..." Really, what could I say? I watched the man die? Suddenly I was desperate to know exactly what time it had happened. I dropped down to the sofa, my fingers fiddling with the zipper pull on my hoody.

"Mom, when was he murdered?"

"The police said late Wednesday night. A little past midnight I think."

My breath caught in my throat. The same exact moment that I had floated down Hemlock and into that mansion in my dream! I was trying to look normal, for someone freaking out inside and about to vomit all over her shoes. "I had a dream..." It just came out. Shut up! I covered my mouth, not trusting myself to be quiet. My freaky nightmare coming true would be way too weird for mom to understand. It's weird for me, and I deal with monsters almost everyday.

I felt her gaze locked on me. "You had a dream?"

"Umm...it's nothing. Mom. Did Mr. Kellogg have any family?" I asked quickly shifting the focus off myself.

She sighed. "He had a brother in Alaska. He doesn't want the property and since Rick and I originally sold him the house, his brother is giving us the deal. I sure hope we can find another buyer in this economy." She shook her head. "Oh, listen to me. A man is dead and all I can think about is my agent fee." Her eyes met mine again. "You look so pale, Bee. I'm worried about you."

"I'm okay mom. Really. So how did your date go last night?" I was getting a lot better at changing the subject.

"Same old story," she said. "He turned out to be another creep. I just can't seem to find a guy as good as..."

"I know-" I said. Dad, her one true love.

She'd suffered another bad date, which meant only one thing; she will need ice cream to ease her pain. Seeing all these disastrous love affairs mom had lately I began to wonder how she ever managed to find my dad in the first place, but she had found him-or he found her- and now dad was the standard by which she judged every single guy.

"The jerk was married."

"At least you found out right away."

Mom sighed. "Maybe I have my sights set too high. After all, every one of these guys has a Ph.D. and yet I find out they're cheating on their wives. All losers...right?"

"Right," I said, touching her shoulder.

"Thanks for listening Bee."

My parents had nicknamed me Bee or Little Bee long before they bought our farmhouse. We lived a short time with Grandma who kept bees. My crib sat in front of an open window. One morning, to mom and dad's horror, they found me covered in bees...laughing. Not one of those bees stung me, so that pet name stuck all these years.

"I think I'm feeling a little better now," said mom.

I yawned and moved toward the stairs.

"Before you go, can you check the freezer for B and J?"

I headed for the fridge, my mind in a trance. I tore the lid off Ben and Jerry's Triple Caramel Chunk. I placed the ice cream in mom's lap, kissed the top of her head, and started again for the stairs, feeling numb from the revelation that my dream was not a dream at all. I had actually witnessed a murder.

In my room, I fell across my bed with thoughts of the knife stabbing Mr. Kellogg's chest. Blood filled my brain. The blond man's words came back to haunt me. I need a house.

I sat straight up, the realization hitting me like Wile E Coyote's anvil. Whoever buys Kellogg's house has got to be the killer. Has to be! Maybe. Or maybe the killer was already hiding in the house. I shuddered and glanced out the window, trying to picture him sleeping in the bedroom where Mr. Kellogg died. One thing was certain; thanks to mom's job it would be easy to find out the new buyer's name.

As I got ready for bed, a feeling of dread enveloped me. The thought of closing my eyes was creating all kinds of new fears. Maybe I'll just stay awake all night ...no sleep, no nightmares. Another brilliant idea brought to you by Jefferson High's student body president. I rolled my eyes.

I needed sleep, if for no other reason then to help maintain my crumbling GPA, and to stay sharp, because I figured I was missing something vital. Whatever it was, most likely, it would take some time to figure out, so I had better pay attention and maybe getting some, spiritual help wouldn't hurt.

* * *

Chapter 5

As I passed each table in the restaurant, following mom, who was following a waitress with a wide butt... wearing a stained blue uniform, I couldn't help overhearing conversations. Everyone seemed to be talking about the Kellogg murder. For some unknown reason their gossip was really starting to bother me.

"I think I have a buyer for the house," said mom, fidgeting with her napkin as she sat down across from me.

My ears perked up. "Oh?"

"His name is Ian Corbet. He's this handsome, single guy who just moved here from the Middle East."

"Does he speak English?"

Mom laughed. "Yes, silly. He's American. He was just on assignment in Iran, or was it Iraq? I cannot keep those two straight in my head. Anyway, he was right in the middle of all the violence. He told me some fascinating stories. Did you know he was an American ambassador, rubbing elbows with Middle Eastern dignitaries? Isn't that amazing?"

"Truly." I said. Yawn.

I study mom closely. She never gets this excited over any client. I hear her using words like handsome, single, and amazing. Immediately I'm mildly suspicious hmm...is she falling for this guy Ian? More importantly, if he is buying the house, is he the one who murdered Kellogg?

"Why exactly is he settling in New Bedford?" I asked.

"He wants a rest from his stressful job. He's been at it for over fifteen years. Ian is so excited about settling in our small town. Apparently, he had relatives who lived here a long time ago." She paused, "Oh, by the way, I won't be home tonight. I'm meeting my client to sign papers. You don't mind, do you?"

Meeting a client, yeah right. I would bet my best black Jeans that she had a date with this guy, who might be trouble. There was no need for alarm just yet. Knowing mom's dating history, it would probably be over by tonight.

"Don't worry about me," I said, excited at the thought of having the house all to myself. "I'm good," Really good.

I cranked up my music, blasting it and singing the lyrics ridiculously loud, as I jumped into the shower. What do I do with my day off? I loved these random school holidays. Everybody knew they were just an excuse for teachers to strategize new attacks on the unsuspecting minds of bewildered high school students.

I wondered what Jake might be doing with his long weekend, probably at a basketball game. I think I could even endure watching some boring game, just to see him in action.

Gabby, on the other hand, was probably still smoldering. I imagined a dark smoky cloud hovering above her blond head, since I hadn't returned her call. Let's face it; I was not looking forward to hearing her outburst, even if we are best friends.

I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around myself, hearing "House of the Rising Sun"...my ring tone. My wet hand grabbed the phone sitting on the vanity. It was another message from Gabby.

R U like on another planet? Not even a lousy text! Girl friend U R so going to pay for this. In your driveway. See U in 2.

I reluctantly dialed her number.

"Now you call me," she said. "Seriously? I left you like a million messages!"

"I'm sorry. I was in the shower."

"For two days?" She let out a long sigh. "Crap! You know I can never stay mad at you...right?"

"I'm sorry, Gabby. I had no idea it was going to be that bad."

"Having a rectal exam would have been more enjoyable. I'm making coffee. Don't you ever lock your doors?"

"Why do I need to lock my door?"

"Have you forgotten? There's a murderer roaming our town."

I could hear her in the kitchen. I'll be down in three." I tossed my phone on the bed and got dressed.

I heard the coffee maker gurgle and groan as I came into the kitchen. Gabby always just assumed this was her second home. She was sitting at the table-reading mom's mail.

"Did you know that caffeine is the most widely used psychoactive drug in the world?"

That was my brilliant friend. She would probably make class valedictorian, but no one could tell that when first meeting her. I smiled and shook my head. "So we're talking about coffee now?" I asked, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

She frowned, tossed the mail aside, and started twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I know you want to sit with Jake; that's cool and all, 'cause you should sit with him. Date him, do whatever with him." Gabby giggled slightly at her own comment. "That's why I have the perfect solution." She let go of her hair and reached for the coffee, taking a few sips. "Mr. Bryant wants me to practice during lunch three afternoons every week... Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Long story short, I told him I'd do it."

I hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Bryant?"

"The one and only mister perfect...my drama coach? Hello? You remember him?"

"Oh yeah, I guess." I put my cup on the counter and leaned up against the stove. "Gabby, you're not just doing this so I can hook up with Jake, right?"

"Actually," said Gabby smiling like the sneaky diva she was. "It'll work out beautifully for both of us. I really need the practice and, well, we know what you need."

I could argue with her that I wasn't even dating Jake, but what was the use; she'd never believe me. Besides, I liked this arrangement. It could really work out. I smiled. "You do know that you're the coolest best friend in the entire world?"

"Well, maybe not the entire world, but yes, I'm the coolest."

Mom let me take the Jeep to school. A miracle! When I pulled into a parking spot, I spied Jake leaning against his car tossing his keys in the air. He smiled, waving me over, and instantly I felt my heart beating a little faster.

He was wearing a green, Hurley sweatshirt and he smelt heavenly. I nervously ran down Gabby's three-day, two-day arrangements, expecting him to be excited like I was.

He just nodded. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you free on Saturday night?"

Did my heart just stop? Was he actually asking me out?

I kept my cool, pretending to run it through my mind. Of course, I have nothing going on! I met his gaze. "I'm free," I said, swallowing hard.

"Great. I'll pick you up at seven." He reached out and took my hand, and we walked like that into school.

As I trailed a slight step behind him, skyrockets exploded inside my head, lame I know, but... I have a date with Jake Hannaford! I could not wait to tell Gabby. She is going to freak!

Jake left me at my locker. "Seven," he reminded, walking away, and I smiled after him. I could hardly stand it. I was bursting to tell someone and only Gabby would do.

Finally, third period History arrived. I flew into my seat giggling. I never do that! I smile... I laugh, I'm normal, but I never giggle.

Gabby shot me a suspicious look.

"I have a date with Jake!" I blurted out.

"I knew it!" she screeched. Now we were both screaming.

"Settle down, girls!" Mrs. Gilbert warned. "This is not gym class."

That just made us laugh even harder.

"I knew he liked you," she whispered. "I want details! You have to call me afterward, promise?"

I reminded Gabby that I had her on speed dial. The class started and ended so fast, I felt a moment of panic realizing I'd missed almost every word Mrs. Gilbert had said. I glanced at Gabby who had taken copious notes, so I relaxed knowing I'd just read off hers.

When I got home, I was hungry. I tossed my backpack down and headed for the fridge remembering the leftover pizza. I spotted a note under the Hello Kitty magnet:

Bee, I'm bringing someone

home with me tonight.

Make sure the house is clean.

Love yah!

Well, what do you know! I'm going to meet Ian Corbet. Other than the fact that he would be ancient history in about a week, this guy was really starting to intrigue me. None of the other boyfriends had ever wanted to meet me. I had an ominous feeling that he might be bad...like the evil kind of bad... maybe even a murderer.

I turned off the TV around 8:30 hearing the front door open and laughter echo in from the hall. A new odor was wafting into the room, that vile smell of demons.

My Slayer kicked into high gear. I fought hard against the urge to shift. That was all I needed. Mom and her boyfriend would freak out, watching me attack demons, thinking perhaps I'd gone all-mental or something.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked me, reading the expression of confusion on my face.

"Fine," I quickly recovered. "I'm fine." Very quickly the odor was replaced by heavy aftershave...Old Spice, I think. Gross!

When I stood up mom sort of shoved me awkwardly in front of her. "Ian, this is my daughter, Shonna."

I looked up into his eyes and blinked. He was familiar, very familiar.

Ian was blond. He wore a starched white shirt and black, expensive-looking suit, Ah yes; he looked the part, a perfect specimen of a well-bred man. Ian possessed a spiritual energy that drew me in, reminding me of the green light over the grave at Goat Hill. His deep green persuasive eyes held me spellbound, yet there was something dark lurking behind them.

"Well, hello!" he said, thrusting his hand out to shake mine.

I realized I was frowning, so I relaxed and reluctantly took his hand, cringing, as it felt cold as glass. "Hi," I managed with a fake smile, while my inner Slayer struggled with the idea of bringing the tip of my sword to his throat.

"Umm..." Mom was clearing her throat, "Let's all have coffee, shall we?" She took Ian's arm and shot daggers at me over his shoulder. "Are you going to join us?" she asked, with edgy sweetness.

"I think I'll go to bed, if that's okay with you."

Ian turned to look directly at me. "Don't stay up on my account...Bee."

A flash of anger stabbed my heart. He doesn't even know me. He has no right calling me by my nickname. I was smoldering inside as I headed up to my room, wondering if Mom was dating a man with an evil spirit. I was hoping he was not a murderer. I never even considered that he could be someone...evil.

I nervously paced back and forth questioning myself. Why was I upstairs, while mom was in the kitchen with that... that thing? Okay so he was flesh and bone, not a spirit, maybe a demon hung around him. It happens. I would much rather believe that than think I'd just left mom defenseless with a demon!

There was one thing I could do to ensure her safety. As a Slayer, I could lay an invisible shield, a blood sphere. The ancient prayer was a temporary fix, but it would work.

I closed my eyes. I repeated the words I knew so well, out loud. Chanting until I could feel the invisible, prevailing force flowing all around me, rising like a mist above my head, then drifting away seeking its intended subject, to surround and seal her safely in Spirit blood, charged with Triune power.

* * *

Chapter 6

Early morning raindrops pelted the Jeep's windshield sounding like tiny rocks striking glass. I was already missing my beloved sunshine.

I eyed mom suspiciously, knowing something was definitely up. She had insisted on driving me to school. It was not my hair she was worried about, since I had walked to school in monsoon-like weather in the past without her even offering so much as an umbrella. No, mom wanted to talk.

"You don't like him, do you?" she asked. "It's important to me that you like him, because I think I'm...well, I think I like him a lot."

I had trouble understanding what she saw in this guy. Sure, good looks, but completely slimy underneath. Even if she didn't have my Slayer ability to smell demons, couldn't she at least see right through his act? He was genuine plastic all the way.

I studied her pouting face, it was killing me to see her so miserable. I wanted her smile back. "Mom you know I'm happy when you're happy." Which really was the truth.

She let out a long sigh and her shoulders sagged forward. "Did I tell you how wonderful he is?"

Only about a million times! I knew I should have walked, even if it meant looking like a drowned rat all day. I stared out the window hearing Cold Play's lyrics in my mind; otherwise, I would have to slice off my ears if I heard one more thing about Ian Corbet.

When I closed the Jeep's door, a parade of mom's former loser boyfriends marched through my head; all her dates ending in Ben and Jerry's Triple Caramel Chunk. Why couldn't this guy be like all the others and just disappear?

Now I was in a deep funk, losing it in the brain department or whatever you want to call it. I sunk lower and lower as the day progressed. I was not even the slightest bit aware of how my own thoughts were depressing me. By lunch, it had gotten worse; the storm of mental torment built up to the point that I wanted to stand in the middle of the cafeteria and scream, "Love sucks!"

There was one thing I knew for certain might help...talking to some sympathetic ear. I couldn't just share my screwed-up life with the next face I saw. I needed someone who understood darkness. Who had been around the Underworld and could unravel this mess. I was feeling quite desperate when I scanned the cafeteria, finding no likely candidates. Everyone seemed to be involved in his or her own little world. After grabbing food I headed for the Warrior table. Jake had already made a space for me, and a flash of brilliance hit, of course...Jake.

"Hey Slash," said David, his new pet name for me. "Did you hear the latest?

I shrugged my shoulders as I slid down on the bench next to Jake. Not really interested.

"Mr. Gregg got bit by a poisonous snake," he said.

I remembered hearing gossip in the halls about our principal and a snake, but my mind had been on a different snake, Ian.

"Old Gregg's in the hospital. They're not sure if he is going to make it. The snake attacked him in his own back yard," said David. "They're saying it's one of the weirdest medical cases they've seen in years."

"Why?" I asked, now mildly interested.

"Dude, we don't have that type of poisonous snake here in the US."

The whole thing was bizarre. I doubted it was an accident. "Do you think someone tried to kill him?"

Nate squinted at me. "Why?"

"Well, what are the odds of a snake just suddenly showing up in his yard, miles from its natural environment?"

"The logical explanation..." said Jake, "...he's got a neighbor who raises exotic snakes, and one escaped."

"You're probably right," I said noting his intelligent response, while I sounded completely crazy. Now I was wondering if Jake was the right person to talk with after all. On the other hand, didn't I need that kind of logic right now?

The trick was finding the right opportunity to ask him, since the subject of the snake was endless. I glanced at my watch; lunch was almost over. I couldn't wait any longer. I leaned toward Jake. "Can we talk privately?"

"Is everything all right?" he asked frowning.

"I don't know, I'm not sure."

"I can drive you home after school, okay?"

I nodded.

The rest of the day I managed to keep the darkness at bay. When final bell rang, I made a dash for the parking lot, searching for Jake or his white Mustang. I found him chatting with some senior girls. When he saw me coming, he said something soft, meant only for their ears. One by one they all shot me dirty looks and reluctantly walked away.

"Your groupies?" I asked.

"Very funny," he said, coming around to open my door. I slipped in and fastened my seat belt.

"So what's up?" he asked, once he was in the driver's seat, and starting the engine.

"I think you're probably the only one I can talk with about this," I said. "My mom's dating... this is going to sound really crazy, oh well, here goes. I think he's a demon or possessed by one."

Jake frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"She brought him home last night and I had to fight the urge to shift." I shook my head. "I mean, he's only a man, yet the smell is there and something else too. I've been having strange nightmares that have actually come true."

Jake's forehead wrinkled as he studied me. He was hopelessly cute, even when he looked concerned. I glanced down at my fingers nervously playing with my zipper. "How can I explain what happens...it's like I'm living them, yet I wake up in my own bed? The weird part is, even the stench lingers, long after I'm awake. Can anyone actually smell things during a dream?"

"I don't know," said Jake, "I never have."

"There's more," I said. "During one of my dreams I watched a man being murdered."

The Mustang slowly accelerated as Jake turned onto the main road. "I know someone who can help," he said, "...do you think you might want to talk with him?"

"Is he a Slayer?"

"Yes, he's sort of my mentor. He's cool. Everyone calls him Gauge, you can trust him, I promise."

I nodded.

As he drove, Jake went on and on about Gauge and his history as a Slayer. What impressed Jake the most was that he'd been an aid to an Ancient. Gauge also had a major part in the Elder Wars with over Eight thousand confirmed kills.

A few minutes later we pulled into a wide driveway, stopping directly under an old rusty blue sign...Waters Auto Repair.

Two gigantic garage bay doors were attached to a smaller building. One red bay door was closed...the others wide open, and a Dodge pickup truck was up on a lift.

We stepped out of the Mustang to the sound of air guns and power tools. I followed Jake inside.

"Hey!" said a muscular man with dark blond hair, wearing gray coveralls, smeared with black and yellow grease. "What have you been up to, Bro?" He pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands.

"The usual," answered Jake, smiling. His voice dropped. "Can we talk?" he jerked his thumb towards the office.

"Sure, come on in," he said, suddenly noticing me. "Who's this beauty?"

"Shonna Wells," said Jake, taking my hand.

"Wells?" he repeated my name, his smile fell and his eyes scanned my face like I was someone he knew, yet hadn't seen in years. "I'm Brian Waters." He held out his dirty hand for me to shake. "It's an honor to finally meet Sam's daughter."

"You knew my dad?" I asked, finally taking his hand. Instantly I felt oddly tranquil. The tension in my shoulders relaxed. I stared at our hands. What power was this to exude such serenity? It was as if Brian Waters held a piece of sunshine in the palm of his hand.

"We were friends. This really isn't the first time we've met," he said, "You probably don't remember me."

I strained my memory to recall...nothing came to mind. "Sorry."

"You were younger the last time I saw you." He smiled. "Your father and I go way back...you look just like him, you know." He grinned sort of sideways. "Come into my office."

We followed Gauge past a customer waiting area, and through a dirty brown door. A hot rod calendar hung from a black nail. He dusted off two old metal chairs, and motioned for us to sit as he closed the door.

"Jake tells me you've inherited more than just your dad's good looks. He said you could really fight."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Thanks," I said wishing I could hide my face as I sat down.

"How is Terry?" He asked.

"Mom's okay...well, that's sort of why we're here..."

"Her mom's boyfriend might be connected to the Underworld," Jake said finishing my sentence. "Shonna's been having some weird nightmares. I thought you might be able to help us figure it all out."

"What happens in your dreams?" Brian asked.

Strange. I should probably be feeling uncomfortable telling a total stranger about something so personal, yet Brian's friendly eyes and soft-spoken voice reminded me of dad. I felt calm, as if I had always known him, and perhaps I had.

I watched Brian's reaction when I told him about my first nightmare and the events that followed. When he didn't comment I continued. "Did you hear about the Kellogg murder?"

They both nodded.

"The same night...at the same time, I watched as Kellogg was murdered." I took a deep breath. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No, highly gifted maybe...not crazy," he said. "You're having prophetic dreams."

"Prophecies?" I asked.

"More like open visions of real events while you sleep. If you're blessed to have this gift, you'll often get a glimpse into the future, and sometimes your spirit might travel to some event related to someone else's future," said Brian. "Did you know what your gifts were before this happened?"

"I thought maybe...well, I can take out more than one demon at a time."

"So you have multiple gifts," said Brian. "I'm not surprised, it runs in the family."

"Thanks." I looked away, my face turning red again.

He must have realized I was embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "In your dream did you happen to get a good look at this guys face?"

I shook my head. "No. I just remember the blond hair."

"Exactly what does this have to do with your mom's new boyfriend?" he asked.

"It's just a gut feeling," I swallowed hard. "The first time he came into my house, the demonic odor... Asmodeus!" I suddenly remembered the man from the Underworld.

"That's what Belial called him."

"It's probably his demonic name," said Brian.

"Mr. Waters-"

"Please. Call me Gauge."

"Um...Gauge, do you think my dreams are connected somehow?"

"Perhaps they're both the same man," he said.

"They're blonds, like Ian, like you."

Gauge leaned back; the old office chair creaked and groaned. "I have a strong feeling you're right; they're probably connected."

"What am I going to do?"

Gauge dropped his gaze to the desk. "I believe you were given this gift for a purpose. Could be Yesher wants you to know what Belial is planning, so you can stop it. How serious is this thing with Terry?"

"She seems excited, but she's been like this before." I sat up straight. "Wait a minute. I just remembered something else. I saw a green light on top of the gravestone and there was a man with a snake. I knew he was from the Underworld, but I didn't see his face."

"He could be a high-level demon, taking on human form."

"Like demonic possession?" I asked.

"No. It's more complicated than that. I think he might be a Familiar Spirit. That would explain the portal. Familiars are like empty shells desperate to be filled with human flesh. They rob graves, and sometimes kill people to get a warm body. They live amongst our unsuspecting community like normal people."

"That's disgusting," I said. I was starting to wonder how difficult it was to get rid of a Familiar. "Have you ever fought one?" I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. "Yes. One killed my best friend."

Jake leaned on top of the metal desk. "Gauge, we can take him out. Ambush him. There are enough of us against one Familiar..."

"Why do they need a portal?" I interrupted, my eyes locked on Gauge.

"They can't afford to damage human flesh. That green light you saw is an entrance into the Underworld." He glanced at Jake. "Familiars are way more deceptive. They may look like your neighbor, or be your neighbor for that matter. That's how easily they blend into society. They are personable, well-dressed, and find jobs that give them some power, status or advantage over others." His eyes shifted between Jake and me. "Promise me you two won't do anything crazy, like taking him out by yourselves. I suggest you find out who he is before deciding his fate.

* * *

Chapter 7

I knew there were horrid creatures lurking in the shadows that wanted me dead. I'd been purposely schooled in the hierarchy of ascendancy-Principalities, Powers, Rulers, and Nomadic Spirits from the lower order. I had dealt with many of these factions, but Familiar Spirits? Never. I wondered why Ariel hadn't prepared me for this?

I was lost in these thoughts, trying to make sense of it all, and hadn't even noticed that we were now sitting in my driveway. I glanced over at Jake. "I'm trying to figure out where Familiars fit in? I mean, could mom actually be dating a second-or third-level power?"

"Good question," he said. "If both dreams are connected and Ian is even a third-level, then this guy's assignment is to kill-" He stopped and glanced at me, a worried look on his face. "Sorry. Look, don't worry; it might not be what we think it is. He could be harmless."

"Maybe," I said, yet I didn't really think so.

His eyes were on me as I fished through my bag to find my keys. I became acutely conscious of every little move I made, and hoped that my stupid cheeks did not turn all rosy red again.

As he leaned over in front of me to open the door, I inhaled his clean-fresh smell. I wanted to bottle that scent and carry it with me forever. Somehow, I managed to snap out of my aromatic daze and gracefully exited the Mustang.

"Give me your cell?" he asked, reaching toward me.

I handed him my Droid and watched as he added his number to my contact list. "Just in case you need to call."

"Thanks." I dropped it in my bag.

He grinned. "See you Saturday night. Oh by the way, wear something comfortable.

Since I had no idea where Jake was taking me, I spent most of Saturday afternoon trying on different outfits. Nothing seemed right. What if he wanted to take me to a basketball game? That would be awkward, not understanding the game. A movie would be nice. It didn't matter where he took me; my eyes would always be on him; because everything about Jake—his fawn-colored eyes, the way he smiled so effortlessly and even the nervous habit of running his fingers through his hair—was impossible to ignore.

I studied my reflection in the mirror. The green dress and heels looked amazing. I smiled. It was perfect but not for a basketball game. What did Jake mean by "dress comfortably?" I groaned, tearing off my dress and climbing into my new jeans and a white T-shirt. I threw on my black sweater just as the doorbell rang. I hurried downstairs. Mom had already answered the door.

Jake looked incredible, in his jeans, navy blue shirt, and black jacket.

"Am I dressed okay?" I asked.

His eyes did a slow scan of my body. He gave me one of those sideways smiles. "Perfect," he said, reaching for my hand.

Mom flashed a smile. "You kids have fun."

I gave her a half-hearted wave goodbye, and we were out of the house.

He opened the passenger side door and held it while I stepped in. His eyes locked on mine as he slowly slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Where are we going?" I asked, adjusting my seat belt.

He glanced over his shoulder and backed down the driveway. "LTX at the Fun Center. You ever play Laser tag?"

"Never," I admitted. "It's gun play with infrared lights, right?"

"You're going to love."

Now I understood why he wanted me to dress comfortably.

He gave me a long, searching look. "You cool with this?"

"It sounds like fun." I smiled. Better than a basketball game anyway.

The dual exhaust on the Mustang rumbled loudly. As he made the corner fast, the tires broke free, and we barreled down a well-lit street before turning onto the freeway. We didn't say much of anything until he took another exit ramp.

"Any more dreams?" he asked.

"Not the three-dimensional kind," I said. Thankfully.

"So, that's good, right?" said Jake.

"Yes." I smiled, appreciating his concern.

"Here we are," said Jake. The Fun Center loomed into view and Jake pulled into a nearly full parking lot.

Laser tag entailed tactical maneuvers, hiding in a fake jungle, attacking opponents, and loads of running and laughing, before tonight I had no clue what a magnification scope or a sonic grenade was, or what recoiling flashing hammers were, not to mention long-range accurate fire. This was better than fighting demons and way more fun and you didn't have to get so close to tag your opponent. To my amazement, I discovered I loved laser tag.

After the Fun Center, Jake drove to a small restaurant, called The Coral Cave. We stepped inside and I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of muffins, and fresh-baked bread. My stomach rumbled. I was really hungry.

The atmosphere was almost a welcoming silence, compared to the riot of sound at the Fun Center. We sat in a secluded booth along the back wall. A tall waitress took our order and returned with burgers, french-fries, and onion rings.

"What was their name?" I asked. "Ralph and Barbara?"

Jake shook his head. "Her name was Betty."

"That's it," I said. "Did you see the look on their faces when we cornered them?"

"That was so funny," Jake laughed. "Yeah, they were all, like...how did they do that?"

"What was that thing they were doing?" I asked.

"Running and screaming," he said.

We both burst out laughing.

"You were brilliant!" I said, "Your idea for tracking them...watching their movement. No way, they could hide from us. No matter where they ran, we were on top of them."

"I'll bet Ralph and Betty will give up Laser tag for good," Jake laughed.

Somehow, the conversation switched to future plans and school.

"Dad wants me to go to Michigan State to study veterinary medicine, like him. He talked me into filling out applications for Mount Holyoke, and North Dakota State."

Sadness washed over me. I should have known that Jake would go away after graduation. I hadn't thought about it until now. I decided that this was a good enough reason not to get too attached to him.

"What do you want to do?" I found myself asking.

"Trust me, you won't like it any better than my dad." His expression turned serious. "I want to go into the Air Force. My goal is to fly FA-18 fighter jets. I've already applied for an appointment to the Academy. I tried to tell my dad; so much of what I want to do involves saving people, not animals. He just doesn't get it."

"You already do help people," I said, "And besides, there are other things you can do without going into the military."

"Now you sound like my father." He glanced down at his fries. "The education's free. I guess dad had started a fund when... mom died." He shook his head. "I don't want to be a burden on him." He ran his hands through his hair.

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence.

"How about you?" Jake asked, "What are your future plans?"

"Its kind of like that for me, too. Dad always wanted me to go to Harvard," I said. "Honestly, I love history, but I really wish I could attend the Art Institute in Boston. It will never happen. In the end, I'll do what my dad wanted."

My thoughts were spiraling downward...six feet under, to dad. I did not want to ruin this evening because I was having so much fun. So, I changed the subject. "What's up with Gauge?" I asked, smiling "...you always hang with that old guy?"

He started laughing, "Gauge isn't old."

"Isn't he my mom's age?" I asked.

"Yeah, he went to high school with your mom. The guys been a Slayer since he was younger than me," said Jake. "When I need answers...I talk with him."

"He seems like the type of guy that would be perfect for my mom." I looked down at my hands for a moment. Something had been gnawing at me since that night we first met. I leaned across the table. "All this time, you knew I was a Slayer. You saw me at school everyday for the past five years. Why did it take you so long to approach me?"

His eyes squinted slightly as he studied me. "You knew I was gifted with discernment, right?"

"No. I had no idea," I said, which made it all the more confusing.

"Sorry. I just assumed. The truth is I didn't know for sure until two years ago at the school harvest fair. You were running the haunted house. I brushed by, and just like that, I knew. Sometimes my gift works best with personal contact."

"So you've known for two years and still never approached me."

"I thought you needed some more time to heal from the loss of your dad."

I frowned and sat back. "So, it was pity. You felt sorry for me?"

"No, no," he said, "That's not true. I wasn't feeling sorry for you. I was afraid for myself."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I know this is going to sound selfish, but it's the truth. I was afraid your grief would cause me even more pain," he said. "Because of my mom's death..." He glanced away for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. "It hurt to see you suffering, like I was. Everyone tried to push me back into a normal life. You and I know, there's no such thing." He made a slight disgusted snort. "Did you know that I killed more demons that year than ever. I went looking for them. I wanted revenge. I made them pay and it felt good." His eyes met mine and he hung his head. "I'm so sorry. Lets talk about something else, anything else. This is depressing."

I watched him run his fingers through his hair, again. A nervous habit Jake just could not break.

"Okay," I said. "Let me ask you something. What are you going to do with your hands, Jake, once the Air Force cuts all your hair off?"

That brought Jake's smile back. He leaned back in his seat and studied me. "You know, you're beautiful."

I smiled feeling my face growing hot. "Are you flirting with me Jake Hannaford?"

"Absolutely," he said, and leaned closer taking my hands.

When we left the restaurant, we lingered on the sidewalk next to Jake's car. His fingers brushed strands of my hair from my cheek. His lips swept gently over mine and suddenly we were kissing. Awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around his back and the space between us closed. When his lips finally pulled from mine, I opened my eyes and stared breathlessly into his smiling face, wondering if he was experiencing this same rush of heat that was consuming me with crazy desire.

His hand pressed firmly into the small of my back. I gasped and shuddered lightly, closing my eyes and feeling his lips parting mine as he kissed me harder and deeper until the sidewalk beneath my feet seemed to dissolve.

At that exact moment, I knew we would always be a part of each other's lives. Perhaps we were matched for eternity... or perhaps my thoughts were completely irrational because I was falling in love.

* * *

Chapter 8

I had dozed off in the overstuffed, green chair while finishing homework as I usually do on Sunday afternoons, when mom woke me, wanting to chat.

She was smiling the way she used to, all sunshine and flowers. And for half a second, I had felt a flash of happiness; the way home used to be before dad died. It would be heaven again, if I didn't believe that mom's joy came from an unhealthy relationship with a dangerous murdering spirit.

They had been dating now for over three weeks, a record for mom, since most of her hookups expired faster than our non-fat milk in the refrigerator.

Mom placed her cup on the table and her eyes sparkled with excitement. Suddenly, she yanked me clumsily from my warm seat. "I have some exciting news!" she said, giggling slightly and twirling me around ballerina style. On the last pirouette, her hand posed in front of my eyes. "Isn't this the most beautiful ring in the world?" A mega-sized diamond ring, encrusted with emerald stones, decorated her finger. "I wanted you to be the first to know...I'm engaged!"

My world stopped spinning. I stumbled back into the chair. "What?" I asked. What happened to waiting? For that matter what happened to breaking up?

"I'm getting married! Isn't it great? I'll be Mrs. Ian Corbet."

This is a disaster! My heart was hammering too fast, causing me to swoon. I was much too young for a heart attack, right?

"Mom," I whispered in a panic. "You can't marry this guy. He's evil."

I just blurted it out.

Mom stared in shock. "You think Ian is evil? Why would you say a thing like that, Bee?"

Now I wished I had kept my big mouth shut, because I had no real argument. I seriously believed she would have dumped this guy by now and not get engaged! What could I say that would convince her? I think Ian might be a Familiar Spirit, sent from the Underworld to destroy us. Instead, I tried a different approach. "I just don't trust him."

"Ian told me you weren't going to be happy. As usual, he was right," she sighed, staring down at her ring. "I know this is all happening kind of fast. Love can be so fortuitous. I've always believed in love at first sight. That's what it is, Shonna. Love."

"Mom, you can't seriously be in love."

She hung her head and sank down on the ottoman, gently pushing my feet aside. "I think I understand what's happening here. Ian is never going to replace your father. No man could ever do that." She smoothed her skirt and breathing deeply. "It's been over six years since Sam died ...God knows I still miss him. I'm going to admit something to you that I've never said out loud to anyone. I am lonely Bee. Oh, I know I have you. Thank God for that, or I would have gone completely crazy. Now, I've met Ian and he makes me smile. I feel like I'm alive again."

"You don't even know him that well. He could be a thief, or worse, a murderer."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it!"

"I'm only giving you the same advice that you'd give me."

"Although I appreciate your concern, you couldn't be more wrong. Ian is no murderer. In fact, he's quite the opposite. I have never met a man more protective and a thief? Why that's just ridiculous. Ian is quite well off. "

"That's odd," I said. "Isn't he unemployed."

"That's just temporary. He's working on a project right now."

"Not many dignitary jobs around New Bedford," I said.

"He's going into a completely different line of work."

Yeah, sure, whatever! "Mom, just promise me that you won't rush into this?"

"Um..." Mom cocked her head to the right, gazing up at the ceiling with a coy smile. "That's going to be hard to promise, since we've already set the date."

"When?" I asked with an edge of impatience.

"December ninth." she whispered, gazing at her ring.

"Are you kidding me? That's less than two months away!"

Mom nodded. "I know. I have so much to do."

"And you don't think that might be rushing things?"

"I know it's not a long engagement, but we can't wait," she said smiling.

"Is there a reason to rush?"

A curious, yet confused expression crossed her face. "I'm not expecting a baby, if that's what you think!" She shook her head chuckling. "Oh come on, Shonna. I am happy and I want my best friend to enjoy this with me. Well, at the very least you could be a little supportive."

"Can't you wait until school's out...seven months from now?" I asked. "Give me some time to get to know Ian, before you jump into this."

"If I talk to Ian about waiting and he agrees," she said, "will you promise to be my maid of honor?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes, I promise."

Mom grabbed my head with both hands and kissed my forehead. "You've made me so happy. Oh." She glanced down at her watch. "I've got to run. Ian has a surprise for me." She headed out the door.

I really wished I could share in her happiness. She deserved to fall in love, but this guy was so wrong. I just knew she was heading for heartbreak. I felt completely helpless to stop this relationship. It just was not fair. She wasn't even married yet, and I had already lost my closest friend.

When I heard the door slam, I ran for my bag, emptying its contents out. Hairbrush, papers, gum wrappers, and pencils, all tumbled to the floor. I found my cell phone. The battery was flashing low. Before it went completely dead, I dialed Jake, praying he would be home.

"Hello," said an older male voice.

"Is Jake there?" I asked. Please say yes, please!

"Hold on." He must have placed his hand over the receiver because I heard muffled voices.

"Hey," said Jake.

"She's getting married," I said, my throat going dry.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes," I said. I slipped down on the floor in front of my chair.

I didn't hear him knock...he was suddenly there, dropping down next to me on the rug. Without speaking a word, I lay my head on his shoulder, my face nuzzling the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around me.

"It's going to be okay," he assured me.

That's when it happened. I fell apart. I could not stop it. The tears came hot and fast. I sobbed all over him.

In a blur of tears, I felt Jake awkwardly lay me on the sofa. He stretched out next to me and slipped his arm around my shoulders. My forehead leaned over onto his, briefly forgetting about mom.

"Sorry," I muttered, wiping away tears feeling a little embarrassed.

He raised my chin and his lips lightly brushed against my swollen mouth. I closed my eyes feeling his lips parting into mine. I gave myself completely over to his embrace, running my fingers up his back and drawing him in closer.

Jake wrapped his full body around me, and desire fanned the flames of need and rocked me hard. In spite of the warning going off inside my head, it felt good...so right, I wanted him, had to have him. My fingers tangled in his hair. His hand touched my face; so gentle, so light a shiver ran through me. Now, I couldn't think, I didn't want to think I only wanted to feel... Jake. The heat was building between us. I hoped it would never stop, but Jake did.

He shot up like someone had tapped him on the shoulder, leaving me like a pressed flower in the cushions of the sofa. "I'm sorry," he said, breathlessly. "I came over here to comfort you, not to..." He didn't finish. He didn't have to. I knew...sex. It completely surprised me that I could have easily lost control, too.

He sat down in the green chair, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "When is your mom getting married?"

I sat up, fixing my clothes and my hair. "December ninth."

"He sure isn't wasting any time," said Jake. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started hitting keys.

I sat in a daze, watching him text with his thumbs and nod his head. "Gauge says we should start at the cemetery." He glanced at his watch. "They're closed now. Can you go tomorrow after school?"

I nodded. "So you think the demon I saw might be Ian?"

"If I knew for sure, I'd kill him myself, right now. No, I don't know. I agree with Gauge. That portal gravestone might have more information we need. It's a start anyway."

I was trying to get ready for school. Mom was in the downstairs hall yelling up the stairs to me through the half-closed bathroom door. My hands were busy wrapping my loose strands of hair into a rubber band, so I stuck my sneaker in the opening and kicked the door open wide. "What did you say?"

"Are you going anywhere after school tomorrow?" she asked.

"Why?" I was afraid that tomorrow was the DD day that she'd been warning me about, my acronym for Dreaded Dress day, when mom would drag me off to the mall to be fitted for some ugly maid-of-honor dress. I was looking forward to that like painful root canal surgery.

"Your Aunt Linda and Peter are coming from New Hampshire to stay with us for the wedding. I'd like you to be home when they arrive."

"I thought Peter was living with his dad in Nebraska." I asked, shrugging on my black hoody I jogged down the stairs to face mom.

"His dad remarried and Peter moved back with his mom."

I hadn't seen Peter since dad's funeral. He was a little kid who had played in the back yard with me. I felt my muscles tense up. "Um...how old is Peter?"

"I don't know, twelve maybe," she said. "I forget. Linda hasn't sent me any recent family photos. Will you please stop doing that? You're driving me crazy."

I was unconsciously fidgeting with the zipper pull on my hoodie- a reaction to the thought of entertaining some little kid for the next four weeks. I rolled my eyes.

Mom let out a long sigh. "Sweetie, this has all been such a burden on you. Do you want me to tell them to get a hotel room?"

If only I believed, she'd do that, but I knew better. She was playing on my sympathy and it was working beautifully. I flashed her a fake smile, "It's okay mom. I'll be here."

She kissed my cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

* * *

Chapter 9

Like most days, there was a long line of vehicles fighting to exit school all at the same time. I sat in the red leather bucket seat watching Jake struggle to squeeze into that line. Just as a spot opened up, he accelerated, then violently slammed on the brakes. My body launched forward and I felt Jake's hand catch me before my face struck the dashboard. Good save.

The black Harley-Davidson that had cut us off stopped dead in front of us. It was no accident; the driver was arrogantly smiling, as he stared at Jake...at me.

Instantly, I remembered seeing the Harley this morning while I was waiting for Jake to pick me up for school. It had raced past my house at least five times, finally slowing like it was going to turn into my driveway, but had taken off the moment Jake arrived.

"Who is that guy?" I asked.

"His name's Rick Steel," said Jake.

Steel's eyes were staring right into mine. Another flash of irritation struck me when I recalled seeing this same guy in the halls recently watching my every move. Was he stalking me?

"Why is he staring at me?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Jake. "I don't like him, he's trouble."

"...More like annoying, if you ask me."

The traffic ahead of Rick moved, leaving a three-car length gap in front, and his eyes remained locked on me. Even when I looked away, I could feel his gaze.

Jake laid on the horn and the cars behind us started honking too. It didn't seem to faze Steel.

"What's his problem?" he asked, echoing my thought.

I wanted to jump out of the car and confront Steel. I wanted to know why he was stalking me. Why was he was intentionally blocking traffic? I had a sudden flash of brilliance. I knew how to make him move.

I leaned toward Jake. My plan was to kiss his cheek, hoping Rick would get the message, that he wasn't bothering me at all. My lips gently grazed Jake's cheek. Jake slipped his arm behind my shoulders, drawing me close. He pressed his lips against mine and my heart left the starting gate. I forgot all about...what was his name?

The Harley revved its engine. I broke myself free from Jake's solar system, coming back to earth just in time to notice the spray of dirt and loose gravel hitting the windshield, as the bike peeled out and left us in a thick cloud of exhaust.

Thirty minutes later, we pulled through the cemetery gates and headed up the road to Goat Hill. Since the top half was too narrow for modern cars, we parked and walked the last quarter mile.

Thick woodlands framed the ancient graveyard. It was generally deserted, making it a perfect place to commit a murder without being seen.

It looked even spookier on overcast days like today. In my head I could almost hear the music from The Exorcist playing in the background. My mind returned to the ghost stories that the locals believed in. Baloney. Yet, today, even I might be persuaded to believe.

We found the grave where I had seen the light the last time I had been to the cemetery, the night I'd first met Jake. He ran his fingers over the top of A.E.B.'s grave.

"Ash?" he said. "Looks like someone was burning paper."

"It's everywhere, even on the ground," I said, bending over to read the old limestone engravings:

A.E.B.

Born 9th May 1912

Died 31st October 1948

Death's north wind, men's soul doth drive.

Carry my bones; in darkness shall they forever lie.

I yanked my sketchpad from my bag. I began to draw the hollow eyed skull with wings, and repeated the words as I wrote them in an arch above the skull.

"Strange," I said. "Why go to all the bother of writing a weird poem, and carve only initials instead of a name?"

"Maybe he wanted his identity hidden," said Jake.

A sudden gust of wind sent my pages flapping and brown leaves scurried past me. I stood up as I heard a metal scraping sound like an old door opening slowly. A shadowy figure dressed in a long, black coat stepped out between two tall angels a few yards away.

Jake sidled up to me and took my hand.

The shadow was a mist of a man, not solid. Not human. He watched us as we watched him.

"You're not welcome here," he said and then vanished.

"Can we leave now?" I asked, my eyes blinking at the spot where he'd stood.

I followed Jake nervously, glancing over my shoulder, half expecting the ghost to return with another warning.

When we were back inside the car, Jake leaned toward me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine. I... don't believe in ghosts."

"I know. I don't either."

"Then what did we just see up there Jake?"

"I wish I knew," he said. He started the Mustang and drove down the hill, going a little faster than normal. "Let's stop in the office. We need to find out exactly who this grave belongs to."

The cemetery office was an isolated building at the far left of the entrance. Thick ivy vines climbed up the roof tiles and trailed over the large fieldstones, concealing most of the small building. Dust and dirt caked the tiny windowpanes. The door stood wide open.

An older man was sitting on a black metal chair, dressed in dull forest green pants, matching jacket, and baseball cap. I swear he was asleep.

"Excuse me." Jake rapped his fist hard on the doorframe.

The dozing man was startled awake. His pocket tag said his name was Hank. "Jeez, you scared me half to death," he said, stiffly rising from his chair. "My heart's pounding like a scared rabbit." He put on his glasses and studied Jake, the car, and me.

"I'd like some information on one of the graves up on the hill," said Jake.

Hank limped over to a metal file cabinet and pulled out a long tray. A map brown with age was taped on top. "You talking 'bout Goat Hill? Come on over here." He waved a dirty hand at Jake, pointing to the map. "Each plot's got a number. There's thirty of 'em on Goat Hill; which one d'you want?"

Jake's eyes searched the aged map. He pointed to the area. "Right here."

The old man whistled as he scribbled numbers on a small pad and told us to take it to the Town Clerk.

A woman at the Clerk's office couldn't give us any information based on the initials. She suggested we try the library.

Our librarian, Ms. Crow, sat in the very middle of a round room, with open doors leading off in all directions toward tall shelves. Balconies overlooked the desk from floors above, where the thin, tiny woman, with a long pointed nose and short-cropped grey hair, sat low behind a high mahogany desk.

Jake leaned over the counter. "Mrs. Crow?" he asked.

"Ms.," she corrected, closing a small book and placing it neatly on top of a stack. She moved her head stiffly to look in our direction.

"We need information on a man buried in Homestead Cemetery." Jake handed her the paper.

She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. "Interesting," she said. "Follow me." She headed off to the right, never looking back, and we followed her up narrow stairs, through carpeted rooms, down hallways, and eventually stopped at a plain green windowless door.

My English teacher had told me that Ms. Crow was an expert in Genealogy. I was about to find out how just how good she really was.

She unlocked the door with a set of keys that hung on her wrist, and we stepped into a cold room. Narrow tables with small lamps lined the middle of it. Along one wall sat a few computers, some old microfiche machines, and huge filing cabinets with wide drawers, almost the same as our school Art department. The sign on top said: The Church of the Latter Day Saints.

Ms. Crow handed us several CDs and we sat down at a computer that looked much older than mine. "Mr. Binco died in 1948..." she began.

Binco. That was the first time we had heard his name.

"I've given you three records to access. There could be more. This one..." she held up a white labeled CD in a plastic case, "contains records preceding 1950. There are probably more records from the 1940's on this other CD." She tapped her finger on top of the case. "Should you require assistance, PLEASE come get me before attempting to jam another disk into the machine." She glanced down at her watch. "We close in thirty minutes."

I dragged a wooden chair over and sat next to Jake, as he placed the disk in the machine, quickly scanning the table of contents until he found the death announcement.

Arthur Edward Binco, 35- a resident of Bedford's west side for most of his life, died on Sunday evening at his home. He was the husband of the late Bernice (GREY) Binco, who passed away in September of last year. Arthur was owner and CEO of Binco Products, a manufacturing company that produced surgical supplies for medical facilities throughout the United States. The company is currently operating under the name of Stafford Medical Supply Company. Mr. Binco sold the company only a week before his death. Arthur was a member of the American Legion Post 103 in Concord and was a long time member of the Bedford Chamber of Commerce and United Business Workers of America. Mr. Binco had an illustrious military career. He served in Special Forces during the war, belonging to the 8th Army and was one of Montgomery's special forces in North Africa. A sister, who lives in Meadow View Nursing Home, North Reading, survives him. Funeral services will be held at the Graham Funeral Home, Arlington Road, Woburn, on Tuesday morning at 10 a.m. with Rev. Bruce Young of the Trinity Episcopal Church officiating. Interment will be at Homestead Cemetery.

Jake searched further ahead to find out how he had died. There was one article under the police reports. "Listen to this. Mr. Art Binco was found dead in his home on Monday morning. Police say an assailant who broke into his home Sunday afternoon stabbed Mr. Binco repeatedly. Mr. Binco was the former owner of the multimillion-dollar medical products manufacturing company, known as Binco Incorporated, repeatedly. Police estimate the time of death at 11:00 p.m. Police Sgt. Beckett says they are further investigating the robbery gone wrong. The rear door showed evidence of forced entry. Many valuables remained untouched, however, Mr. Binco's wallet was taken, but the amount of cash is undisclosed-"

The door opened suddenly and Ms. Crow announced the library was closing in five minutes. She gave Jake a slip of paper with the disk numbers and we left the library.

"I'm more confused now than before we started. And worse, I still have no proof to show mom."

"Don't worry, we'll find some. You know I keep wondering," said Jake. "Is it just a coincidence that Binco and Kellogg were murdered the same way?"

My mouth fell open. "You're right." That got me thinking. Was it even possible that the same person could have murdered them both?

The next day after school, I had just enough time to scarf down some microwaved mac and cheese, when the doorbell rang.

I opened it, expecting my aunt; instead, a tall skinny teenage boy with brown spiky hair and creamy pale complexion leaned against the doorframe. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie over a white tee.

"Peter?" I asked.

"The one and only," he said. His smile was so contagious, I found myself smiling back. I was completely relieved that he wasn't a little kid.

"Come on in," I said.

"For a moment there I didn't think I had the right house. You're a lot prettier than I remember."

A flash of heat hit my cheek. Amazing. I felt like I had been close to him all my life. Sure, we were related, but it wasn't like we had spent loads of time together growing up, and he was definitely different from that freckle- faced, gap-toothed kid at family picnics. He was taller than my five foot six frame, with a girl-crush cute, innocent face, and the strangest lime green eyes I'd ever seen. To my intense surprise I liked him, and didn't know why, except he made me smile and I really needed to smile.

"Where's Aunt Linda?" I asked, glancing out the window.

"She dropped me off. She wanted to surprise your mom at work."

I took Peter on a small tour. We stopped in front of my bedroom at the top of the stairs, both staring into my messy room. My cheeks grew hot. I kicked some clothes out of the way and quickly shut the door. No one ever said I was a neat freak.

"Yep, that's where I sleep, but hey, look, here's an actually clean room...yours." I pointed to the guest bedroom across the hall from mine. The queen size bed was made up with a rose colored quilt. The nightstand and antique dresser did not match, yet they had been dusted; some of Gram's doilies covered the flaws.

"So, Peter," I asked, making small talk. "You get to take three weeks off of school. That's cool...right?"

"Home-school," he said, flashing me that Cheshire cat smile. "Makes it easy for things like this."

"Sweet!"

I thought maybe I would leave, give him some privacy. "Well I'll let you unpack," I said, heading for the door.

"Wait."

I turned around.

Peter studied me, his eyes squinting. "How well do you know Ian?"

I stood like a moron with my mouth open. "Why?" I answered with a question.

"Curious, that's all," Peter smiled, "...um... forget it."

Either Peter was extremely perceptive, or hiding something, he knew.

"What I mean is," he began again like he could read my thoughts. "It seems like your mom only just met him and now this big commitment, I'm a little confused."

"You're right, a short unexpected romance. She's not pregnant if that's what you're thinking."

His grin widened with amusement. "No, I didn't think she was. Like I said forget about it." He placed his suitcase on the bed.

I turned again to leave, when his next words stopped me cold.

"I know something about you," he said.

* * *

Chapter 10

I studied the menu, but I had no desire to eat. Mostly because Ian's strong, Old Spice aftershave was turning my stomach sour, and also because I hated everything they offered in this stupid place, Rosario's. Wasn't this supposed to be Italian, for crying out loud! Why do they offer Chinese food?

Ian was making lame jokes and doing stupid napkin tricks, all to impress Aunt Linda. Both Mom and Linda were laughing hysterically, but not Peter, thankfully. In front of everyone, Ian wrapped his arms around mom and kissed her on the mouth. Someone poke my eyes out puh-lease! I glanced at Peter and pantomimed sticking a finger down my throat.

He laughed silently then glanced down in his lap.

I asked Aunt Linda to trade seats with me so I could talk with my cousin. She gladly moved closer to mom.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

He pulled a small hand-held computer out of his pocket.

"Oh...you are playing games," I said.

"Yes." He said, swiftly put it away.

"You want to tell me what secret you're obviously withholding from me?" I asked softly.

"No," he said.

I stared at my cousin, totally bewildered. I was beginning to wonder if I could trust him. Honestly, I wasn't even sure I liked him anymore.

"Ian has a new job!" Mom proudly announced to everyone at the table.

"Don't keep us in suspense," said Aunt Linda, "tell us what you'll be doing, Ian."

Mom started to speak when Ian stopped her, placing a finger over her lips. "Remember you promised."

Mom smiled bashfully. "He wants it to be a surprise," she said, "I'm not allowed to say anything...but, you're going to be very surprised!"

"When will we find out?" asked Aunt Linda.

"Tomorrow night," said mom. "He's going to announce it at dinner."

"It must be an important job," said Aunt Linda.

Ian pulling himself up straight, "one of the most important jobs I've ever had."

I shot Peter a sideways glance. "Crypt Keeper," I suggested loud enough for everyone to hear. "Wouldn't that be perfect, having such close access to all those... dead bodies?"

Ian glanced at Mom. Her smile faded. She was burying me with daggers. Ian burst out laughing. "You certainly are a funny girl, Shonna." He winked at mom. Her face relaxed and she laughed a little.

Anger flared inside me. I stood up. "You are..." I grit my teeth, starting to tell him exactly what I thought. "Don't," Peter pulled at me to sit down. "Your mom," he whispered.

Her eyes were pleading with me not to ruin this evening. I sunk back into my chair and said nothing more. I wasn't exactly sure how much more I could endure of this crap.

"I'm a good worker," joked Ian. "That's what you were going to say, right Shonna?" He took mom in his arms again. "After tomorrow I'll be working just for you." He touched the tip of her nose with his lips.

Aunt Linda smiled. "Well, I'm just dying to find out what this new job is all about. I can't wait to hear."

Ian took his arm away from mom to adjust his jacket and tie. His eyes met mine. "I have someone else to surprise first."

Did anyone else observe his evil overtures directed right at me? I glanced around the table; apparently not.

I got up fast, tossed my napkin down, and headed for the ladies' room. At first, I hadn't notice Ian following me. When I stepped into the narrow empty hallway, he latched onto my arm. If it were not for mom, or the fact that I was not completely sure he was a demon, I would have shifted right then and taken him out.

"What do you think you're doing? He snapped, "Can't you see you're upsetting your mother."

"Let go of me!" I demanded between clenched teeth. "I'm not the one who plans on killing her. You are." I knew I should not have said it. Now it was too late to take it back.

Ian's expression turned white with shock. He let go of my arm. "What are you talking about? I would never dream of hurting your mother. As far as I'm concerned, she deserves some happiness in her life. I am going to make sure she gets it. Look, I know I can never replace your father, and I'm not going to try. I just want to know why you don't give me a chance, Shonna. I really am in love with your mother. What do I have to do to convince you that my intentions are pure and honorable?"

I almost starting clapping, his performance was Oscar-worthy, playing the role of a misunderstood man in love. The worst part was, I really wanted to believe him. Because he was right, mom deserved someone who made her happy, but was it Ian Corbet?

I was more than a little surprised by Ian's persuasive powers, almost shocked actually. I started to doubt my own judgment. Could he really be in love with mom? Suddenly, I remembered what Gauge had said about Familiar Spirits. Ian fit that description all too well; he was crafty, personable, and able to deceive anyone.

"If you hurt her, I'll follow you into hell and I'll cut you into little pieces!" I warned him, pulled free from his hand, and walked into the ladies room.

I could not wait for the evening to end. I had to leave, now. When I returned to the table I grabbed my jacket and bolted for the door. Instead of taking the walkway, I ducked under low branches of the grove of trees that surrounded the building, searching for the shortest distance to the parking lot.

"Shonna!" I heard Peter calling, following me.

I ignored him. I also ignored the signs warning people to stay on the walkway. I'd never been to this place. I didn't know about the drainage ditch running the length of the parking lot. The dirt bank fell away into a nine-foot gully.

The darkness of the trees blocked out all street lamps. I kept walking, believing I'd eventually find the edge of the pavement to the parking lot.

"Shonna!" Peter's voice was urgent.

I took another step, my right foot found no solid ground. I uttered a low gasp, stumbling, falling. Now to my horror, I could see sharp rocks at the bottom of a ditch. This is going to hurt.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. My body twisted as I fell forward and my heart began to hammer. My arms jerked up to protect my face.

In an instant, someone caught me, jolting me incredibly fast out of my fall. I collapsed, breathless in the dirt at Peter's feet. How had he seen the ditch? Wasn't he far behind me?

My whole body trembled as he helped me to my feet. I glanced up to thank him, and I gasped in horror. Peter's eyes were glowing like an animal...bioluminescent, almost the same as Ariel's, my cherubim trainer. How was that possible? Since Ariel was a supernatural creature and Peter was only human...I think.

He took my hand and led me slowly back to the front steps of Rosario's.

"What just happened?" I whispered.

"Nothing," he said, "You're okay, right?"

"Um...I guess."

We didn't talk all the way home. I kept staring at Peter. My cousin was a mystery in many ways, and those eyes were just plain freaky, and this mystery was more than my pounding head could stand for one evening.

* * *

Chapter 11

Peter sat in front of a bowl of Cap'n Crunch cereal with a backdrop of bright sun streaming through the curtains, the rays striking his shoulders and giving the illusion of shimmering angel wings.

I shuffled around the kitchen getting a bowl and my cereal from the cabinet. I slid into a chair, staring at him while I poured my cereal. He was dressed in a navy T-shirt, that coy smile on his face... at least his eyes looked normal.

"Good morning," he said.

I grunted a reply as I ate my Alpha-Bits. I was not in the mood to be cheerful, nor did I feel like figuring out the mystery of Peter Green.

"No milk?" he asked.

"I like it dry, tastes better."

"I thought they took Alpha-Bits off the market."

"No, that's not true," I said between mouthfuls. "They're just not as popular as your cereal. That's probably why I like them so much."

Why were we talking about cereal, instead something important like how he saved my life? Okay, so Peter was in the mood to talk. Good, I thought, let's talk.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he said. "Fire away."

"What's my secret? And what's up with those weird eyes of yours?"

"That's two questions," he said, picking up my cereal box and pouring handfuls out onto the table.

"Stop that! What are you doing with my cereal?" I had at least one large bowl left in the box. He held up his finger wanting me to wait a moment, while he moved letters around.

"I need an 'i' Where is it? Ah, here's one." He reached into my bowl and took some of my cereal.

"Ew!" I stared at the bowl. "You touched my food." I protectively pulled the bowl toward my chest wondering how clean his hands were. "I can't eat that cereal you just dumped out on this dirty table."

"You know what an anagram is?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Yes," I said, "you unscramble words to create new words."

"We do this, you know in home school. I took Ian's name and made a small sentence; I can rob, but I have letters left over, so it doesn't really count as a true anagram."

I studied Peter without speaking. Although I was not happy that he'd played with my cereal, I had to admit there was something about him. He was both fascinating and annoying at the same time.

"Maybe you can come up with enough letters to spell, I am a demon," I said, watching him move my cereal again around the table. He wasn't even fazed by my comment.

"That might be hard to do unless we know his middle name." Peter's head shot up, "Do you know what it is?"

"No," I informed him, "and you never answer my questions."

"What questions?"

"Last night, what you did at the restaurant...saving my life?"

He gave me an innocent, yet vague look.

"Now don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," I said firmly.

"Whoa, you really are in a bad mood. Are you like this every morning?" he mused, not looking at me. "Can you find out Ian's middle name?"

"You have an incredible knack for changing the subject."

"Do I?" he smiled. "Another talent."

As I got up to place my empty bowl in the sink, mom came into the kitchen, "What on earth are you doing, Peter?"

"Nothing," he said, swiftly scooping the whole mess up in his hands and tossing it into the trash.

Mom took the cereal box and placed it in the cabinet. "Peter, your mom and I are going shopping today. Would you like to come?"

"Ah...no thanks," said Peter.

"I hate to think of you sitting here alone all day."

Peter grinned at me. "Don't worry, Aunt Terry. I've got plenty of work to do. I'm going to the library. Catch up on some assignments."

Yeah right, like that's exactly what he'll be doing. I almost lost it.

"You're such a good kid, Peter," she sighed.

I rolled my eyes.

I glanced down at my watch and gasped. I was late. Being late meant having to get a note for class...ugh! I grabbed my bag and ran the three blocks to school, traversed the front steps, noting how deserted the schoolyard was; the halls were just as empty. I squeezed noiselessly inside the rear door of my Economics class, stealthily tip-toed down the aisle past Amanda and dropped into my seat. Mr. Lynch was busy writing on the board and he had not noticed I was late. I let out a grateful sigh.

Amanda immediately leaned forward and whispered, "Did you hear what happened to Mr. Gregg?' I glanced back at her. Her eyes were wide. Amanda Shapiro had short, wild, brown hair, and bushy eyebrows. Generally she was quiet, not a gossip like her sister Cindy. I glanced over at Cindy. She had the same wild hair...family trait. Her face reminded me of a bird: pointed nose...small mouth, amazing for such a big gossip.

"They don't think he's going to live through the night. We have a new principal."

"Really?" I said catatonically. "Poor Mr. Gregg."

"While he was in the hospital a rare spider bit him during the night. Can you imagine, first a snake then a spider? Freaks me out thinking about bugs crawling on me while I'm sleeping." She made an exaggerated shudder.

Mr. Lynch heard us this time. He shot a warning glance toward Amanda. We sat as still as statues.

I frowned. This was a little too peculiar ...first, a snake...then spider... it was obvious someone wanted him dead.

"Who is our new principal?" I whispered.

"A Mr. Corbet," she said softly.

My heart stopped.

Could there possibly be another Corbet in town? Somehow, I knew this was Ian's new job...his big surprise.

"You look sick," said Cindy.

"Ladies, ladies," said Mr. Lynch, "if you prefer to continue your conversation, I'll be forced to have you explain to the class what is so vitally important that you must interrupt my lesson. As for you, Ms. Wells, if you are late for my class in the future, I'll be giving you detention. Is that clear?"

Busted!

"Yes, sir," I croaked dryly.

His eyes bore a hole into me as I sank lower in my seat.

I waited until he was writing on the board again before I quietly tore a corner of lined paper from my notebook and wrote, "Would his first name be Ian?"

I passed it back to Amanda. I heard the sound of her pencil as she scribbled a reply and slid the note under my armpit. I opened it and read, "Yes. Do you know him?"

At that very moment, the classroom door burst opened and I turned to see Ian Corbet slither in, smiling like the snake he was, his beady eyes pinned on me.

Annoyance clouded old Lynch's face. He scowled. "Well, well, to what do we owe this...pleasant surprise?" he said contemptuously. Mr. Lynch despised having his lectures interrupted by anyone! I could tell there was an instant dislike for Ian.

"Class," said Mr. Lynch, folding his arms over his chest and rocking slightly back and forth impatiently. "I'd like to introduce our new administrator, Mr. Ian Corbet."

"I hope you'll forgive my interruption," said Ian, stepping right in front of Mr. Lynch. "Since I'm new to your school, I just wanted you all to know that my door is open anytime you need to talk."

This type of announcement was generally made during a school assembly, not in one classroom. Who had Ian Corbet persuaded to give him this job? Wasn't his former job some sort of political figure in Iran? Didn't a principal position normally come through teachers climbing the ranks?

"I have one more important thing to announce. I am getting married." He paused waiting for what? Applause? Nobody moved. Mr. Lynch lightly tapped his pencil on the old mahogany desk.

"Shonna Wells..." He pointed right at me, "Will finally have a new father...me." Now everyone turned to gawk at my burning cheeks. I wanted to die.

"Oh, and Mr. Lynch," he said, "I'll be keeping a close eye on Shonna. I expect great things from her."

Both men studied me, like I was some sort of specimen under glass. "Well, you need not worry. Shonna's one of our brightest students."

"Good!" said Ian, somehow disappointed. "I wouldn't want her to fail this class and embarrass me." Both men chuckled, although I could tell Mr. Lynch was fuming beneath the surface.

I sunk even lower in my seat. If I had the power to disappear, this would've been a perfect time to vanish.

"I'll let you get back to your lecture," Ian said, turning once more to gaze at me with his wide devilish grin, before walking out the door.

The bell rang. Mr. Lynch closed his book a little too hard. I jumped. The room erupted in noise. Chairs scraped on the floor, and kids chatted as they scurried from the room. I moved slowly in a trance, like a robot, rising from my seat, tossing my books in my bag.

Cindy brushed past me, "Congrats on your hot new dad!" she smiled sardonically, racing from the room. I heard her giggling all the way down the hall.

Ian had managed to destroy my social life in just ten minutes. The news about Ian becoming my new dad, spread around the corridors fast, with Cindy Shapiro serving as gossip central.

Poor Mr. Gregg was struggling for his life because of me. If Ian wanted me dead, why didn't he just attack me instead of killing people around me? I could not stand the idea of someone else suffering because of me. That had to be Ian's plan or part of it anyway, to kill me by inches. Taking away my once happy home, messing with me...in the most painful ways he could.

I seriously wanted to talk with Jake right now. I needed to hear his reassuring voice, telling me everything was going to be all right. We are not allowed to use our phones during school hour, so I would have to wait until lunch hour. That felt like a million hours away.

A wave of students shoved me along. I moved in a trance, not really caring if I was late for my next class. What did it matter now that Ian Corbet was making my life a living hell?

That's when I noticed Rick Steel leaning against a locker, leather jacket over a black death, metal T-shirt, and sunglasses...a really cute bad boy. He was blocking some freshman's locker. The boy was pleading for Rick to move. He needed his books. Rick disregarded him as if he were some insect or other annoying pest. His dark blue eyes followed me as I passed by and just like that, he was at my side.

"Hello," he said, his voice smooth, "You're Shonna Wells."

"And you're Rick Steel." My mood shifted from apathy to irritation.

"Do you like holding up traffic, or was that a special performance just for my benefit? " I asked sarcastically.

"I thought your performance was pretty good."

A sudden flash of me kissing Jake sent heat rushing to my face. Immediately, I lost the tough edge I so desperately wanted to keep.

"Jake's a lucky guy," he said.

I dropped my head, trying to hide the color of my cheeks.

"What do you want?" I snapped back.

"Just to say hello." He gave me an innocent smile.

"I'm not always like that," I said. Why am I explaining myself to him? Who cares what he thinks?

"It's cool." He raised one hand in surrender.

Maybe if I ignored him, he would just go away. I made a quick right down a side corridor, toward my English class. He sort of lagged slightly behind. I noticed a silver chain with a peace symbol swinging from his neck. He didn't carry any books or a backpack. In fact, he resembled someone just visiting rather than a student.

"Is everything okay?" he asked moving closer. "You looked upset."

"I'm going to be late for class and so are you!" As I glanced at my watch, I picked up my pace.

"No big deal," he said. "It's only high school." He was running his hand along a row of metal lockers.

"Where's your next class?" I asked.

"Here," he said, pointing to room 105...Impossible. My class! He'd never been in my class before today. This was something new. When did this happen?

I reached for the door handle. Rick shot in front of me, pushing it wide, holding it open, smiling at me as I slipped past him.

Late again for another class...lucky for me, my teacher was MIA. That explained all the loose chatter. As I dropped into my seat, I noticed Rick taking his seat, one row back to my right watching me.

Mr. Baker rushed into the room mumbling something. "I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized. I wondered if Ian was responsible somehow.

He quickly passed out worksheets and broke us up into small study groups to answer book review questions. I couldn't believe my ears when he said, "Wells and Steel." I groaned and reluctantly moved to an empty desk beside Rick.

He flashed me a smug grin and swung our desks closer together with his foot. We were a little too close for my comfort.

"Yeah, so I doubt you've even read 'The Tempest.' Am I right?"

"Don't be so quick to judge." He spoke softly, never taking his eyes off me.

Glancing over the list of questions, I was thinking it would be hard to answer any of one of these if he had not read the play. "We have to explore two of these. What about the first one?" I glanced at Rick. He shrugged.

His dark blue eyes, caused my heart rate to increase, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I held the paper in front of my face to hide, as I read the first question aloud. "There are many tempests to be explored. Name some of them. Well I know one," my voice sounded breathy, "conflict of class." I wrote it down.

"Right," said Rick, leaning close to my face. His fingers reached out to touch strands of my hair. "Forbidden love?" he whispered.

I gulped hard and pulled my hair from his fingers, shoving it behind my ear. He was right. Stunned. I slowly wrote his answer on the paper.

"Good," I said. "Any more?"

"Sibling rivalry," he said.

He was right again, I didn't know how, except that he must have read the book, or he was good at guessing. I strained to think of something else. "What about revenge?" I said in a rush.

He nodded. His smoldering eyes affected my breathing. He was cute; abnormally cute, and so different from Jake. Jake was rugged, an earthy guy. Steel was your classic bad boy type- leather, bedroom eyes, and whatever the heck that power was, he possessed. I was like a fly trapped in his web. He was wrapping me up for lunch.

Come on concentrate! I have extraordinary powers. I am like a superhero, for crying out loud, and superheroes never fall for the bad guy...do they?

I cleared my throat. "Next question. Examine topics and undertones that pervade during the play."

"Sex," said Steel.

"You mean romantic love," I corrected.

"No," he leaned very close and whispered in my ear, "sex."

For a moment, I could not breathe. "I...I'll write down romance with sexual undertones."

Still smiling, Rick shrugged his shoulders again and glanced away.

I closed my eyes, feeling my power return. "What about the serious tone?" I asked. "This may be a comedy, but it really has some serious issues."

"Like murder," said Rick, "...attempts to overthrow a government. The serious undertones undermine the comedic mood."

My jaw dropped. All of sudden Rick had gotten serious. He had not only read the play, but also had a comprehensive knowledge that would rival Cliff 's Notes.

Mr. Baker called the class back to order. I had fallen under the Steel spell. In a fog, I turned back to my seat when he reached for my wrist...his thumb running across the light hair on my arm, turning my mind into mush.

"I'd like to take you out."

"Um...what? Sure," I said.

He let go of my arm. "Tomorrow night?"

"Um...I..."

"I'll pick you up at six o'clock."

Suddenly I snapped out of it and turned to say no, but he was gone.

I realized class was dismissed and everyone was leaving. I grabbed my bag and ran out into the midst of chaos, my eyes searching the sea of students. I slammed my fist into someone's locker. I could not believe that I had just stupidly agreed to go out with Rick Steel. I didn't even like him.

* * *

Chapter 12

It was nearly seven o'clock when I fell face first onto my pillow, giving up hope of ever finding Rick Steel's phone number. I had unsuccessfully searched the Internet, and all the outdated directories under the kitchen cabinet were absolutely useless.

Now I was forced to tell him face to face...the date was off. I groaned. How do I get myself into these messes? As I got up to change my top, I mentally flipped through a list of excuses. Yeah like, they're going to work! Lets see, my best friend is sick, I need to wash my hair, none of my clothes are clean, I don't date bad boys, etc.

My cell phone went off. It was Jake asking me out. Immediately I was struck with guilt. I told Jake I would call him in an hour, giving me exactly enough time to break my date with Rick, change into a better outfit, and call Jake back.

The doorbell shrilled loudly sending fear into me. I bolted from my bedroom, down the stairs...two seconds too late. Ian was already shaking hands with Rick. "Here she is now," he said, grinning like a used car salesman pushing a lemon.

"I...I'm sorry, I really can't go out," I said.

"Why not?" They both said in unison.

"I've got a..." I froze. How could I say I already had a date; then why had I agreed to go out with Rick in the first place? I hesitated a second too long.

"Come on! Go out. Have some fun. You deserve it," said Ian, nearly wrenching my arm from its socket as he pushed me at Rick and I stumbled into his arms.

"You'll need a jacket." Rick whispered, exhaling lightly on my cheek.

Ian tossed me my green army jacket from the hall closet. Rick caught it with one hand and draped it around my shoulders. I reluctantly shrugged into it, feeling like a lamb heading for slaughter.

Rick drove a black, nearly flawless, rebuilt Electric Glide Harley-Davidson. Except for one small dent in the front fender, it was what dad would have called cherry.

I climbed on the back and fastened the strap of the helmet as Rick instructed me to wrap my arms around his chest. I looked around for something else to grab. "I'll just hold on here," I said, gripping the bar behind me.

He revved the engine, it sputtered and roared. He peeled out, the force knocking me backwards and I nearly fell off. Eagerly, I wrapped my arms around his chest, speculating that he had done that on purpose.

Rick had a heavy foot. He seemed bent on killing us both, yet after a few miles, I sensed his proficiency and relaxed. We drove down Main Street in a whirlwind of color and sound. I smiled, feeling the cool night air rushing against my skin, smelling the exhaust fumes, and Rick's after-shave. I felt oddly comfortable and didn't understand why.

Rick took a side street and pulled into a small bar-and-grill named Mac's Magic. He parked along a string of other bikes all lined up in the same direction.

When we stepped inside, Rick waved at a few scary-looking bikers who chuckled and made nasty gestures back.

Mac's Magic had no specific décor, just square vinyl booths surrounding worn-out Formica tables. We dropped down into a dark booth. As I leaned on the table, my arm stuck to it. Rick continued staring at me. To say I was uncomfortable was a major understatement.

"This your regular hang out?" I asked.

"Sort of," he leaned across the table and whispered. "My uncle owns it."

"I thought you just moved here."

His glance shifted to a heavy-set man behind the counter flipping burgers. "I was sent here," he said, finally. "My mom sent me to live with my Uncle and Aunt...long boring story."

"So you're here till graduation?"

"Something like that," he said his eyes shifting sideways, and then changing the subject. "You and Jake, are you two dating?"

"Yes. We're close... friends." I said. Why did I say that? I was in love with him, I just didn't know if Jake felt exactly the same way about me.

A slight grin played at the corners of his mouth. "Nice guy that Ian. He's going to be your father soon, right?"

"Mom's dating him," I said, feeling more than a little annoyed at his comment. As far as I was concerned, Ian would never be my father.

He frowned, squinting, perhaps trying to figure me out.

The waitress brought our food. It did not look at all appetizing. I ate the fries and picked at the rest. Oddly enough, Rick did the same thing. I studied him, now that he wasn't staring at me. What did Rick Steel want? If he thought I was dating Jake, why had he even asked me out? Was Ian involved in this somehow? Could he be somehow controlling everything in my life?

I tried to call Gabby, I knew she'd be my only ticket out of here, away from Rick, but she wasn't answering her cell. The more avenues I pursued to get me out of this date, the harder Rick fought to convince me to go along with him. Before I knew it, I was on the back of his bike again. It wasn't until we pulled past Salem Street that I recognized the way to the public beach.

The beach was almost deserted, except for a few people strolling along the water's edge. The moment I was off the bike, Rick reached behind me, drew me close and his lips were on mine. I squirmed to resist, but suddenly I found myself yielding to his magic, closing my eyes, and melting into him. This is not Jake! I pushed him away, finally coming to my senses. "I can't do this Rick," I said, breathing heavily, "I love-"

"Jake?" He finished my sentence with his own question. Rick's eyes caught a glimpse of moonlight, reflecting bitter disappointment. "Oh, I get it. It's not real serious with Jake, but for you...a different story. Am I right?"

I shook my head, yes. The ocean breeze whipped my hair into my face.

"Don't worry," he said tucking the wild strands behind my ear. "I'm cool. We can just talk if you like."

Relief washed over me. I smiled nervously and nodded.

As we walked along the beach, Rick asked about my favorite movies and books. It should not have come as a surprise when he told me he collected books.

"What's your favorite?" I asked.

"You won't like it."

"Why, is it something really bad?" I asked.

"Give me an example. What would you consider really bad?" he asked.

"The satanic bible maybe."

"Are you one of those people who supports banning books? Besides, what's wrong with the satanic bible, anyways?"

"First off, I don't believe in banning or burning books," I said. "And secondly, are you kidding me? You actually like to read the satanic bible? "

"Yes, I study it. It has loads of power to live by."

I stop walking. "You're a Satanist?"

"Maybe," he said. "I'm open to all kinds of new experiences."

"Then you'd never want to be with me," I said. "I'm the opposite."

"You don't seem close minded to me. And my guess is, you're not a religious nut...am I right, so far?"

"Define...nut."

He smiled. "Okay, I think you believe in one entity that exists in your universe. That doesn't make you a nut case. In fact, that makes you pretty normal and just the same as me."

"I'm not the same," I said.

He picked up a rock and flung it out beyond the surf. "Don't you agree that it's our belief system that keeps this old world spinning? And that the most important thing here is that we never force our beliefs on anyone else?"

"Sure. I guess. I just don't understand how you can believe in evil rather than good," I said.

"That's incredibly unfair, you know. Who defines it as evil?" said Rick, not really expecting an answer. "Hey, I'm open to the truth, as long as you have scientific proof, and not just mere words written by men pretending to be the voice of God."

"You make a lot of assumptions about my faith," I said. "Really Rick, it's so obvious that you have way more faith than I do."

Rick looked stunned, and almost amused. "Why would you say that?"

"It takes way more faith to believe in words written in what...1969, than the words of Vox Dei, recorded in ancient text from the beginning of time, itself."

He shook his head, smiling, and raised his left hand. "I give. You win this time," he said, as if expecting we would have many more conversations about this in the future.

"Since I win, then you can finish answering my question. What does Rick Steel like to read, besides the satanic bible?"

"I told you. You won't like it."

"I know, so?"

"Okay, there are a few favorites. Anything by William Shakespeare, especially The Tempest." He looked me directly in the eyes, waiting for my reaction.

I shook my head and gave him a playful swat on the arm. "That's how you knew so much about the book in class." I crossed my arms watching with amusement as he struggled to hide his laugh. "So Will Shakespeare and the devil, any others?"

"Well I do have another favorite book." He paused. "Promise me you won't laugh."

"Go on."

He took a deep breath, "The master, Lewis Carroll's, Logical Nonsense."

I burst out laughing.

"You promised!" he said, yet he started laughing too, although it was more like smiling wider.

"No, really, I didn't promise." I kept on laughing. The idea of tough biker, Rick Steel, reading Alice's adventures in Wonderland was more than funny... it was hilarious.

"It's a great book," he said. "I have a creepy old copy...Carroll uses nonsense to criticize the archaic system of learning, like the Public School system, which hasn't changed for the better since then, by the way." He was serious. "Hey, you know I read Cather, Steinbeck, and Hemingway too. I keep going back to Carroll."

My laugh came out light, almost a musical chuckle.

"I love your voice," he whispered, moving closer, drawing me into his arms, his lips finding mine again. All my willpower melted into dangerous submission. My head protested, but my body went turncoat on me and surrendered to the fire of passion. Oh, he was good. Twice now and I never saw it coming.

Finally, I pushed him away. "Take me home," I said quickly.

It was nearly eleven-thirty when I finally climbed into bed. Rick's presence was still inside my head. I was angry with myself for allowing him to kiss me. I had lied to myself thinking, I'm not attracted to him. Yet, Rick had flipped on a switch and I wasn't sure if I could turn it off. Why did I have to meet him?

I closed my eyes trying to imagine my life with him and just like that, it was all very clear. Rick Steel was a major distraction, a set-up, perhaps by Ian. The ugly truth was that I had no future with Rick. Really, how could I be with someone so opposed to my faith and everything I stood for? I was the demon killer, and he had joined forces with my enemy.

So whatever this attraction was, it was only superficial, temporary at best, and I would be careful to keep my head when I saw him again.

* * *

Chapter 13

The distant music played on, weaving like satin ribbon within the shadows of my dreams. When I recognized the coarse male voice singing House of the Rising Sun, my eyes shot open. My cell phone!

My fingers pushed the talk button. "Hey?"

"You never called me back last night. Is everything alright?" Jake asked softly.

A wave of panic shot through me. "I...I'm so sorry," I said. "There's a reason. A good reason...I...I just can't talk about it right now." I really wanted to say that being with Rick Steel reminded me of just how miserable I was without him.

Except for his breathing, there was painful silence. Perhaps he already knew about Rick, and perhaps he was upset, hurt, confused... fill in the blank.

"Jake?" I asked, fear creeping into my mind.

"I want to see you," he said finally. "What're your plans today?"

"I'm taking Peter to visit my dad," I said. "Do you want to come? Peter wants to meet you. We could have some fun, afterwards."

"I've got a game in an hour. I was hoping you could watch me play, but you already have plans..."

"No. It's okay. I will cancel. Peter won't mind."

"Go," he said. "There'll be other games; it's not like today's our playoffs. You should visit your dad's grave. We'll hook up tonight."

"Jake, are you mad at me?"

"Never happen," he said. "See you at seven."

I hadn't really asked Jake to define our relationship. Are we a couple? I glanced at my calendar. We had been out every Wednesday night and every weekend since September 7th. There was gossip; it still didn't feel as if we were exclusive. Gabby said she heard from Amanda, who heard it from Cindy, that Jake told Steve Hays that I was his girlfriend. So does that mean last night I just cheated on Jake?

I glanced over at Peter as I drove to the cemetery. Finally, I had the advantage; other than, him jumping out of a moving car, he could not escape my questions. "So, what's up with your crazy animal eyes?

He flashed me a smile and laid his arm on the back of my seat. "It's called night vision. I'm not an animal."

"Most people have normal vision," I reminded him.

"No, most people don't...in fact there are more people with eyesight problems than you may think. In the United States alone, 75% of adults have vision problems and over 64% wear corrective lenses. I can give you the figures for near-sighted and far-sighted, but I'm guessing you don't want to hear it."

He was maddening. "You happen to be very annoying."

"So I've been told," he smiled.

"I'm never going to get a straight answer from you, am I?"

As usual, he didn't answer, just grinned.

The morning air was clear and slightly cool, yet the sunshine warmed up the skin on my left arm as I maneuvered mom's Jeep through the gate around the winding roads that led to dad's grave. Cemeteries are peaceful. Yeah, I get that, yet today something seemed off and perhaps a little too quiet for my comfort.

I pulled underneath a hefty branch of a maple tree dense with autumn leaves. As we exited the Jeep, I gestured toward the largest stone in the back row. I walked past Peter, and ran my fingers over the coarse granite. Hi dad.

For more than a few moments my gaze was drawn to Peter. He stood very still, his eyes locked on the sky, instead of dad's grave. Suddenly his head snapped left then right. It sort of frightened me. "Peter?"

"They're coming!" He said as if in a hypnotic trance. "No, I'm wrong. They're here right now."

Before I could ask him who was coming, the ground opened up in front of us... demons surged from the graves in dramatic style. It was as if they'd been sleeping with the dead, waiting for the right moment. They were visible... wanting us to see them.

Storm clouds blackened the sky. Night fell in the middle of the day. Of course, darkness was the only kind of daylight demons could stand.

As my clothes shifted, I glanced at my cousin and gasped, nearly stumbling. Peter was gloriously dressed in full black leather armor...spikes ran up and down both arms and shoulders. He held onto a long, thin blade resembling a Viking sword. He was busy shoving it into the guts of a vampire demon. My cousin was a Slayer!

I'd deal with him later; right now I had my hands full, cutting up demons. Why were they here? My question was quickly answered. A blue Chevy Malibu pulled over in front of mom's Jeep. The family headed toward a new grave. One of them was the target.

A vampire flew, launching himself at the family. The demon sunk his teeth into the man, pushing him down and draining his blood. The wife started to scream.

With a quick movement, Peter jumped on his back, sending the vampire tumbling forward over the man's body in a somersault. In a flash Peter was up, driving his sword into the demon's heart.

The girl had open vision. I knew it. Few creatures can remain hidden from the guiltless eyes of children. The shadows that adults ignorantly disregard, kids clearly see. The wispy blond child around five years old was pointing at the demon and yelling "Monster."

Blood covered the man's neck and chest. The wife watched helplessly as her husband suffered from the attack of another demon, invisible to her eyes. It was obvious who their target was... the dad. I had no idea how many were here. Every time we killed one, another would materialize directly in front of him, always him.

I glanced at Peter on his knees, searching for his blade, a skinny Vamp right behind him. Oh, Lord, no. "PETER!"

I took off running to help when something grabbed me. I staggered backwards, struggling to free myself from the skeletal fingers that had my wrist. I jerked free, ripping my shield open to block him. A dark blur slammed hard into the metal with a loud series of rings, sending a shower of sparks from claws sharp.

This familiar demonic ballet we performed over my father's grave was just too painful a reminder of his death. I was in agony missing him and I desperately wanted to help the girl save her father.

Peter had his weapon now. Thank God! He was making another Vampires life miserable. They both lost their balance, and went rolling, growling, biting, and hitting-- down the small embankment, where they landed near the wall of a tomb.

The vampire in front of me became solid, taunting me to attack. I swung my blade, but he vanished, re-appearing behind the little girl, smiling at me with a wicked, devilish grin. "You lose," he whispered, his bony fingers reaching for the child.

No, no, no, not her!

Anger rose up inside of me. I bolted, feeling power rising and swirling over me like a twisting gust of wind lifting feathery wings. His death was mine. I could almost taste it. I was on him, slicing the air, again I hit nothing. The mom grabbed for the child as the coward vanished.

I growled in anger. Gritting my teeth, slamming my blade into the ground, kicking the dirt. They were all invisible now, every stinking last one of them, playing that little hide and kill game.

Except for the soft whimpering of the mother and child, everything went deadly quiet.

Peter was on his feet, like me, scanning the torn up graves trying to figure out if they had gone or was this just another ploy.

A scream sliced across my consciousness. I turned to see the little girl being dragged away by invisible hands. The horror of it struck me with pain. She had been the real target all along. I should have known. I'd beat myself up later about it; right now, I was running after that demon.

I was knocked violently sideways by some unseen force. It felt like I'd hit a rock wall. I staggered to stand up when invisible claws slammed me hard into a tree. My head hit the rough bark. I heard a faint crack, and dizzying nausea swept over me. The vampire Lorcan! I could see him now. He was fully visible, laughing at me. Violently he shoved my head sideways exposing the white skin of my neck. "Slayer," he whispered. "Such a stupid mistake."

I spied my sword behind him, shoved into the dirt where I had left it. He was right. It was a stupid mistake. I struggled hard against him, nearly gagging from his nasty sulfurous breath. Yet, I still had another weapon.

"Yesh..." I started to call on the power, but screamed in pain, as his fangs sunk into my neck, like small knives. He swallowed my blood exchanging it for his vile poison. I stopped struggling, growing weaker, until my voice completely failed, and my knees buckled.

I was gliding like a leaf caught in a breeze. I looked down from the stars of the silky heavens, seeing my body under the tree. Blood was all over my neck. Lorcan was gone. I was dying. Everything was fading to black, somewhere far, far away, I could hear Peter's voice calling.

I needed to open my eyes. Straining with every ounce of strength inside me, I willed my eyelids to open. There was a crack of light...a crack of hope. More light. Peter was hovering. "Shonna, do you hear me? Tell me you're okay?"

I had that crappy dull ache like you get in the middle of the flu, typical of most demonic vampire venom. It might linger for weeks. What did it matter I was alive, thanks to Peter, my Boy Scout hero. He was applying pressure to my throat, using a towel he'd found in mom's Jeep. When he was sure the bleeding had stopped, he helped me stand.

"The girl!" I gasped softly latching onto Peter's arm, looking all around. The place was a mess. Open graves destroyed the grounds. It was going to take work to fix this.

"She's alive," he said. "Went home with mom and dad."

Relief washed over me, followed by regret for allowing myself to end up as a demon appetizer. I knew demons targeted kids; how could I forget? I should have been protecting her. Ariel's rule- never, ever become detached from your weapon. How many times did I have to learn that lesson? I shook my head. Let it go! I had almost died simply because I allowed my grief to distract me. I had to pull it together, for mom's sake at least.

I glanced Peter zipping up a small case containing hypodermic needles. "Did you just give me a shot?"

"Yes," he said. "I gave you one earlier to control the bleeding." He shoved the case in his pocket. "This one stops the flu symptoms."

What? "What's in that stuff? Where did you get it?"

"I developed it in the lab on campus. It should take about an hour and you'll feel normal again."

"You developed a cure for the flu?" I asked, not really believing it.

"Not every strain of the virus is the same," said Peter, opening both doors on the Jeep, and tossing the blood soaked towel on the floor. "What I developed will treat the symptoms for demonic venom, this particular vampire strain anyway."

I didn't really believe that my cousin had actually developed a cure for vampire venom and yet as weak as my body felt, I did not want to argue. I had to admit I was starting to feel slightly better and I was able to walk, slowly, very slowly to the driver's side door.

Peter reached for my arm, turned me around and led me to the passenger side. "I'll drive."

"Do you have a license?"

He glanced at his watch. "It will take a least another 45 minutes for that shot to work fully. So unless you want to stick around here for the workers to show up and call the police, arresting us for property damage, then I suggest you hand over the keys because you're in no condition to drive. Trust me," he said. "I can do this."

I reluctantly handed him my keys, hating to admit everything he said was probably true.

As I eased my aching skull back against the headrest, I caught my reflection in the car window. I was pale with dark circles around my eyes. I was hoping his anti-venom would work fast, because it was going to take a ton of work to make my face look good enough for my date tonight.

"I thought by now, you'd be hammering me with questions," said Peter.

He was driving fast, faster than a formula one driver. I was starting to think that he saved me just so he could kill me in a flaming car crash. "Could you just slow DOWN!"

He applied the brake, slowing the Jeep to a crawl. It felt like we were going only five miles an hour now. I glanced over and we were doing a respectable thirty.

I let out a long sigh. "Peter, why didn't you tell me you were a Slayer?"

"So, you're angry with me?" he asked from under his lashes.

"Hardly...you saved my life back there. Okay, seriously what's up with all these cagy games you like to play?"

As usual, he said nothing.

"Okay," I said. "Here's the deal. I'll forgive you if you promise to tell me all your nasty little secrets, from now on."

"Deal," he said.

"First, let's talk about your eyes."

"It's a gift from Yesher, well one of my gifts anyway. My level of retina illumination is about six to seven times greater than normal, sort of like a cat, only the Tapetum Lucidum that reflects light back is twice as strong in my eyes. Which means, that in total darkness, I can differentiate between colors and shapes, and I can calculate movement from spiritual activity. In simple terms, I see in darkness as if it were daylight, yet much better. Without the aid of binoculars, I can visually explore the depth of oceans and gaze high into the celestial bodies of our solar system. It really comes in handy."

My jaw dropped.

He studied me for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Just kidding! I can't see into space, or the bottom of the ocean, nobody can. It's my turn. Do you think Ian is a demon?"

I stared at him with my mouth still open, feeling like concrete being jackhammered, experiencing one shocking slam after another. "I used to think that," I said slowly. "Have you ever heard of Familiar Spirits?"

He nodded his head. "The spirits who invoke a curse that raises the dead shell of human flesh. Yeah, I know about Belial's army of regents: Powers, Rulers of Darkness, Spiritual Wickedness in high places. It makes perfect sense. Ian jacks some dead guy's body for the purpose of killing." He glanced at me, his eyes squinting. "Are you sure?"

I explained the grave, and how we had researched, finding very little information.

"Do you have a problem with me doing some investigating?" he asked.

"Why would I mind?"

"Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I might as well tell you. I'm almost done."

"Almost done? What do you mean? You've been researching Ian Corbet?" I asked. "When did you start all this?"

"Not important," he said. "And yes to your other question. You see these other gifts I have, it's the reason I know what's hanging around your mom. It's not human. I can feel it."

"Feel?" I asked.

"Yes. Like today I knew right before, they were going to attack. Also, I can read people close to me. I know what they're feeling."

"You can read emotions? Ha! Do you know what I'm feeling right now?"

"At your dad's grave...I sensed something."

"That's easy, I was missing him. Anyone could figure that out."

"You feel disappointed with your father for abandoning you," he paused. "And thinking that way, makes you feel guilty."

I gulped hard and nervously shifted in my seat. I had that same uncomfortable feeling I got when Ariel, my Cherubim mentor, read my thoughts. Only now, it was Peter and I didn't care that he was right. It was private stuff! Exactly what good was his gift anyway?

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly.

"You didn't," I lied and forced a smile.

* * *

Chapter 14

I hadn't spoken with Peter since the cemetery attack. I was hoping he would come up with some kind of genius strategy for killing Ian Corbet. Peter was avoiding me like I was Doctor Death. It felt like that, anyway. Every other day he had some place he had to go with my aunt. Imagine my surprise when he approached me, asking if Jake and I could meet him at the library, after school.

Jake and I searched almost every floor in the library but couldn't find Peter anywhere. I was about to send a text when we spotted him in the toddler area, sitting at a low table, moving tiles from a Scrabble game around.

I introduced Peter to Jake and they seemed to become instant friends, which was both strange and wonderful at the same time. I wondered if this connection might be the result of similar gifting. Jake sensed evil inside people, while Peter sensed advancing evil.

"So what's with the game?" Jake asked, nodding toward the table.

"Oh, Peter likes to do anagrams," I interjected.

"I've been playing with the name, Arthur Edward Binco," said Peter. "I always have letters left over. Then I remembered reading that he preferred to be called Art, remember that?"

We both sort of shrugged.

"Check this out...if I use Art E. Binco." Peter quickly moved the tiles and transformed the name into Ian Corbet. "No letters left over, it fits. Freaky huh?"

This seemed a little more than coincidental.

Jake smiled. "That's kind of cool actually."

"Yeah but not enough to convince mom," I said.

"There's more," said Peter. He quickly stood up and walked away, turning once; he motioned for us to follow.

We tailed him stopping when we reached the genealogy lab's green door. Peter pulled out the keys.

My mouth fell open. "Seriously Peter, you stole Ms. Crow's keys?"

"I didn't steal anything. She gave them to me," he said.

"Impossible. She never lets anyone touch her sacred keys," I said.

Peter Shrugged. "I made a few calls to my home school teacher's aide. She persuaded Ms. Crow to allow me access to this room whenever I wanted."

"So you've been hanging out here every day?"

"Pretty much," he said.

He hadn't lied to mom after all.

"I saved the best for last," said Peter. He sat down in front of the old computer and started typing. Jake and I stood behind him. "Check out this photo of Binco."

Jake and I bent over the desk squinting to see the old newsprint about a big merger with Stafford Medical. My eyes found the photo. The man shaking hands with a Stafford executive was none other than our new principal... Ian Corbet!

"Awesome!" said Jake. "This is exactly the kind of proof Shonna needs to show her mom."

All lines of evidence converged into one pivotal point...Ian Corbet. I could see it all clearly, now. Ian planned to slip a ring on mom's finger, confessing his unholy vows, consecrating darkness to light, then he'd thrust a knife into her heart... and I'd be next or first or however he'd planned it.

It felt like icy fingers were squeezing the breathe from my lungs. I couldn't breath or didn't remember how. Dizziness drained me of all strength and I started to collapse.

Peter knew. Somehow, he knew. He was out of his seat in a flash, catching me before I hit the hardwood floor. The boys guided me into Peter's seat, so I could lean my head against the wall.

I stared catatonically at the screen. "It's true," I said. "All true. Ian is a Familiar Spirit, alive in Binco's body."

Jake wrapped his arms around my shoulder. "It's okay, " he whispered.

"Can I handle this?" I whispered out-loud. "Can I do this?'

"You're not alone in this," said Jake. "I'm here for you."

I smiled at him and nodded.

Thank God for Peter and friends like Jake because I wasn't convinced that I could handle this alone. Knowing I had to break mom's heart, seeing her face as I killed her fiancé, was not going to be a happy family memory. That was for sure.

"Drink, you'll feel better," said Peter, handing me a plastic sports bottle.

I gulped down the liquid, expecting it to taste like water, not salty and strange.

"What is this?" I asked, half expecting him to tell me it was another one of his lab experiments like the vampire venom.

"Vitamins. A few minerals," he said. "Good for you stuff."

I was still frowning at Peter, when Jake handed me a photocopy he'd made. I slipped it into my Calculus folder. I took a very long deep breath and closed my eyes feeling some relief, feeling as if my nightmares might finally be coming to an end.

For months now it felt like I had been holding my breath, waiting for the beginning of the end. It was finally here, now, today. I had in my hand tangible proof, evidence that Ian Corbet was not who he said he was. When mom learns the truth, she'll drop Ian and he'll be out of our lives forever! It was a fairy tale for sure, as I knew blood would be shed...had to be shed. I was praying it would not be my mom's.

The next day Jake set up the meeting with the Slayers at the ballpark behind the school. He was going to tell us the plan that he'd come up with.

Gabby overheard us at lunch. She insisted on coming. She said I owed her, since she hadn't seen me for a week. I tried very hard to persuade her to stay home, no matter what I said she would not relent.

Jake and the Cross brothers had already arrived at the dugout and it looked like we were the last to show up.

I noticed a skinny black guy named Joey Miller. Forever branded as a sci-fi geek, he wore thick glasses and Star Wars T-shirts. I'd seen him before, trailing behind Jake in the halls. I never thought much about him. I sure didn't think I'd be seeing him here tonight, of all nights, I figured Jake had his reasons. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

"Why'd you bring HER?" asked Nate, pointing at Gabby.

"Leave her alone!" I snapped.

"Come on, Nate, this is important," said Jake.

Nate moved to the other side of Joey, to distance himself from Gabby.

"Ian's spies are everywhere," said Jake in a low, guarded voice, glancing around the field.

"They don't even try to hide it," David spoke up, shaking his head. "Dude, we know who they are."

Nate chuckled. "MIB replicates wearing those stupid dark glasses...invisible to everyone else except us. Do they really think they are that cool?"

"Listen up," said Jake. "I was in the office this morning and I overheard Ian say he had business with the boss tonight. You know what that means?" He glanced at everyone, getting no answers. "The school board's not meeting." Jake was getting a tiny bit impatient at our vague reactions. "Don't you get it? Ian's got only one boss. Belial. Which means..."

"He's going to the cemetery," I interrupted.

"Exactly," said Jake. "The portal! I'm sure that's where he's headed."

"We're going to take him out!" said Nate, pounding his right fist into his left palm. "Four against one, we'll destroy him."

"What about Slash's mom?" David asked, glancing at me like I'm the one who should be asking this question. I started to speak, but Jake answered for me.

"Ian doesn't come back," said Jake. "Shonna's mom thinks he deserted her. She'll eventually get over him." Jake gave me a conspiratorial nod. "At least she'll be alive."

"I like it," I said.

Before we left, we agreed to meet at the edge of the woods on the east side of the cemetery. I was wishing Peter could be with us tonight; instead he had an appointment with his homeschool teacher aide.

Before I left the house, I had already made the decision to leave the Jeep at home. I didn't want Ian to see it parked outside the gate. I jumped when my phone went off. I had a text from mom.

Working late. Take some cash from the jar for supper.

Instead, I made myself a PB and J sandwich and was just about to take a bite when I heard the front door open. Gabby breathlessly tossed her bag on the counter, knocking mom's mail all over the floor. "I'm coming with you! Don't try to stop me!"

"Fine," I said putting my sandwich down on the plate and bending to pick up the mess of envelopes. "Walk me as far as the cemetery, after that you've got to go home!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever...come on." She shoved my sandwich into her mouth and we left the house.

* * *

Chapter 15

The distant horizon was gradually transforming from a dull grey with dark lavender streaks into blue-black sky, lit only by a waning full moon.

I spied Jake's Mustang under a chestnut tree at the side entrance, behind Nate's blue Mercedes. Although the gates were padlocked, the eastside entrance was easiest to climb over. We ran into the shadowy woods, making our way up the hill toward the edge of the cemetery lawn.

We stood between the trees at the edge of the oldest gravestones, eerily outlined by the strange light of the moon.

Jake took my arm and pulled me aside. "We need to talk in private."

Before I could respond, Joey tripped over tree roots and fell on his face. "Ouch!" he whined, and fumbled trying to find his glasses, awkwardly sticking them back on his face as he stood up.

"Why did you bring the geek?"

Jake sighed. "That's why we need to talk."

"That is so cool!" said Joey gawking at me. "Shonna, where'd you get that killer sword? Whoa! Jake! That black leather is wicked sci-fi, dude! Were you wearing that before?"

"You can see my sword and Jake's armor? How's that possible? You're a Bleater!"

"Hey, don't call me that!" said Joey.

"It happened last night," said Jake. "He's one of us now...my doing."

I gaped at Jake in disbelief; Joey Miller... a newbie? I was trying to process this, but for some reason, his goofy presence was really annoying me.

"Hey guys, I don't like the woods," said Joey. "There's ticks here that can suck your blood make you sick."

I sneered at him, wanting him gone. When he continued whining, I lost it. I leaped at him with my blade drawn. "Listen up, Geek!" I didn't even try to hide my impatience. "I'm telling you this for your own good. When a cherubim named Ariel..."

"What's a cherubim?" he interrupted, nervously stepping back into a tree.

"Your Slayer trainer, half lion, half man," I said. "When he gives you a sword like mine," I raised it and placed the edge close to his neck, like I would take off his head- "you just tell Ariel, no thanks! Tell him you do not want a sword. You don't want to fight ... okay?"

He gulped loudly. His hand shook as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. Was it possible that I might have gone a little too far? I didn't even recognize myself. Where was all this anger coming from?

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Can't you see I'm trying to save your life, Geek?"

"I can handle a sword," he whispered. "Jake," he glanced at his friend. "We do it all the time. Right Jake? Our kill scores are really high, like off the charts high."

I turned to Jake. "The geek thinks it's a game." Behind me, Nate and David started snickering.

"Aren't you being a little rough on him?" Jake asked, moving closer to Joey.

I knew Jake was right I didn't care. I needed to lash out at someone. Joey's eyes darted back and forth watching us argue.

Jake stepped between us pushed my blade off Joey's neck and gently gripping my arm. "Let's talk," he said, pulling me away from the others. I glimpsed Gabby stepping off in the opposite direction. She was now the only non-Slayer among us tonight.

"What the heck's wrong with you?" He snapped. "You almost took off Joey's head."

"Joey wasn't in any danger of losing his head, and you know it."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that your sword can't kill him. Joey came here to help. We all did. What is wrong with him joining us anyway? We could use the extra help."

"Are you out of your mind, Jake?" I asked, "Joey has no weapons. They'll smell his fear and he'll become their first target."

"What about Gabby? At least Joey can see them. Gabby won't have a clue what's tearing her to pieces."

"I know, I know, I know." I grabbed the top of my head. "I can't believe I let her follow me. What are we going to do?"

"Wait a minute," said Jake. "Joey's under special protection, being a newbie. He should be okay."

"Under normal circumstances," I said. "Sure, he's already been assigned some evil spirits by now, like all of us, but they'd be low-level powers, not these big bad boys we're dealing with."

"Didn't you fight Belial right after receiving your sword?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Your battle was different," Jake interrupted. "You were Sam Well's daughter."

"I'm still his daughter," I said. "Besides, what does that have to do with all this?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

I shook my head, no.

"Ariel didn't tell you your father's history?"

"I never even knew he was a Slayer until you told me, remember."

Jake glanced away for a moment. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything else."

I grit my teeth. "Tell me what you know!" I demanded, "...or I swear, I'll..."

"You're such a hothead. Relax, I'll tell you." He shoved his hands in his pockets "Ariel had to prepare you early, for the attack against your family. It was revenge. Your Dad had upset Belial's plan. Did you ever hear about the Battle for the Elders?"

I shook my head no.

"It was kind of like what happened with Hitler, except darkness was attempting to control the Elders. Angelic guardians aren't always able to do their jobs. Slayers are called in you already know this. Look, all I know is, your father was a hero. He fought a Familiar by himself. He died trying to save England's Prime Minister. There's more to it. That's the only thing Gauge told me. You should talk with him, since he was with your dad when it happened."

"What?" I took a step back to steady myself. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I don't know," Jake said. He was saying more, but a cloud of numbness silenced every word he said. Another piece of the puzzle had just slipped into place. Now I knew a little more about dad's death, but what I didn't have were details, like who had killed him or why. Gauge was with dad when he died. Finally, after all this time, someone could tell me the truth. If I survived tonight, I would visit Mr. Brian Waters. I would finally get answers.

"You're right," said Jake. "Joey and Gabby need to leave. Come on." He took my hand. "Let's get back before Gabby kills Nate."

I followed like a zombie; concentrating on a history, I had known nothing about until a moment ago. Gauge and my dad were best friends like Gabby and me. It wasn't until I saw her face that it hit me. I had to protect her. After all, didn't I agree to lay down my life to protect the innocent? Like all Slayers, I swore an oath that I would die defending the innocent, most were people I didn't even know. Gabby was my best friend. I would do whatever it took to keep her alive.

"Why doesn't anyone want to talk with me privately?" Nate whined in a fake sad voice, joking around, as I passed by him heading for my best friend.

"Let's bail this freak show and go have some real fun," said Gabby.

"You followed me here, remember? I didn't ask you to come."

"You'd rather hang out with these creeps. Fine. I get it. I can leave."

"Good. GO!" I said a little too loudly. I'd hurt her saying that, but this was exactly what I wanted, for her to leave, to save her life. I just didn't want her to leave angry. I hesitated when she turned walking away seeing the hurt expression on her face. I couldn't stand to see her hurt.

"Wait a minute, Gabby." I reached for her arm. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't know what is bugging me. Look, I'd rather be hanging with you and having fun. If I didn't have to deal with this thing, we'd be out of here right now, but..."

"But what?"

"I can't go." I gave her a pleading look. "The truth is Gabby, if you stay, you might die. I'd feel much better knowing you were safe."

She let out a long sigh. "Okay, so you're going to attack our new principal... am I right?"

"Yes."

"And all this has to do with some evil spirit stuff you're always talking about, right?"

"Sort of."

"You guys are insane," she said. "You know that, right? You are so lucky you got me, cause I won't tell the cops anything. They can torture me too I will never talk."

I was tying the strap from my leather wrist pad onto the hilt locking my blade into my hand, listening to Gabby go on and on about how she keeps secrets. I watched her glance at Nate, mildly disgusted. "Why does he have to be here with us, anyway?"

"Nate's here because he's a gifted fast runner. He's also an excellent fighter. David's gifted in other ways, with seven thousand confirmed kills, we need him, too."

I was doing my best to remain calm and still work on getting rid of my best friend painlessly. "Let me just warn you, Gabby. When the monsters come and the fighting starts, I want you to run and keep running. Promise me, okay?"

"Sure, running and screaming. I can do that. No problem." She glanced over at Joey. "What's up with Miller? He thinks you have a sword? So...let's see it, where is it? Come on give. Show your best friend."

I glanced down at my heavy broad sword, now tied securely to my hand. "It's sort of invisible," I said, trying to imagine how this was all going to play out, since Gabby was not leaving. I knew that sometimes in extreme cases, Yesher opened non-Slayer eyes to see their spiritual attackers, not that they could fight them off, but they might be able to outrun them. I only hoped that He would do the same for Gabby if it were ever needed, because demons like Ian were lethal. My guess was Ian might not come alone; he'd bring his spies or other evil guardians.

"There are...creatures here that can kill you Gabby. You can't see them. It might get kind of weird."

She raised one eyebrow. "You have an invisible sword. Invisible monsters might attack me. You're acting all bounty hunter on Joey. If you ask me, things are already pretty weird. Look, best friend in all the world, I do not understand any of this. I just wanna have fun tonight. Hanging out in the woods is not my idea of a good time, unless I was kissing someone like Ben Barnes." She crossed her arms in front and leaned against the tree next to me. "Besides, if I can't see them, they can't hurt me, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "I give up."

"Stop worrying. I got it. No problem," she said. "Afterwards, you wanna come to my house?"

"Shhh!" I said, thinking I heard footsteps. I did. A shadowy figure was moving close, Ian.

I flashed Jake a quick nod. He replied with the same.

The eerie glow, like a giant flashlight beam, shot up into the sky above the gravestone. It was the same one I'd seen the night I tried the save the old man, the same night I'd first met Jake and found out he was a Slayer.

Jake and I moved slowly, the rest following, crouching, and ducking behind granite stones, closing in on our target.

Ian vanished.

A noise like sandpaper scratching against wood filled my ears. A dozen demons started pouring from the grave like giant cockroaches, running toward our small band of Slayers.

They are here!

I glanced toward Joey and Gabby and prayed they remained hidden.

A vampire started for the woods. Jake burst into a run, and lunged at the ugly fanged vermin, swiftly taking him out.

Two other Vamps were on me. The anger that had consumed me a moment ago was gone, just when I needed it the most. They split off, attempting to trick me into following one, while the other attacked from behind. I shook my head. They never learn. I jumped back, stabbed one spinning right I took out the other...too easy.

Three tall shadows stood frozen, their heads and bodies leaning toward the darkened trees, sniffing the air. Chills ran through me. Crap! They smell fear. They know an innocent is hiding.

David charged them. I was right behind. "Yesher!" My sword cut clean through two, and David took out the other. I glanced the dark woods and tried to shake off my anxiety.

I felt as if I were moving in a vacuum, slowly, too slowly, grunting and swinging at anything that stirred. I felt it before I saw it... Jake was hurt. A shiver quivered deep inside me. An internal sound roared my ears. It was my heart slamming hard into my wall of my chest. The roar was panic...fear.

Everything went soundless as I danced with my sword; tearing apart demons, all the while my eyes searching for Jake. I saw something terrible. He lay on the ground...knocked out; his sword rested near a tree in the shadow of Joey's foot. No, no, no, I screamed inside my head, watching Joey move out from his hiding place. He was yelling at the demon that was about to kill Jake. I couldn't hear what he said, but I knew what he was doing. Joey was trying to draw attention away from Jake. When his fingers reached for Jake's blade, my mouth went dry and I couldn't scream. I tried. It came out hoarse. Oh God, no... "JOEY, RUN!"

I was too far away. I wouldn't be able to reach him in time. The demon would kill both Joey and Jake by the time I got down the hill. Panic raced through me... I screamed heavy- metal loud. "Somebody, HELP!"

That was the wrong thing to scream, everyone turned to look at me. A Dreader demon smiled as he sensed my fear. Big mistake since Dreader's subsist on the weakness of terror, he pounced on me. My adrenaline kicked in. I went berserk, stabbing and stabbing with only one thing on my mind, I have to save Jake and Joey.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Someone else running from the woods...

Gabby!

I killed the last demon and froze in fear watching as a dozen demons all vampires moved in a trance toward my best friend. Joey and Jake needed help I did not know what to do.

The screams building inside of me melted into tears. Inside my head, I saw myself running and killing every demon and rescuing all my friends, but I hesitated overwhelmed with fear. What do I do? Who do I save first?

I forced myself take a step, that's when I realized I couldn't move. I hadn't seen or felt the Serpent from the pit of Abaddon. The boa constrictor sized snake with lizard legs and incredibly poisonous fangs...he had me. My ankles were wrapped up. Too late, I tried to stab the thing while keeping my balance, but I was falling backwards.

My wrist struck a headstone, breaking open the strap loosing the strings that fastened my hilt to the palm of my hand. My blade fell away as my back and head slammed jarringly hard onto the ground.

I lay momentarily dazed, feeling the snake winding around me. I painfully tried to raise one shoulder, but my arms were gift-wrapped in serpent flesh. I saw the hunger in his eyes. I could not believe that I got myself into this mess.

The snake's head swayed sideways looking for a good place to plunge in its poisonous fangs.

Without my sword, I had no defense against Serpent venom. His eyes rolled back, his jaw clamped down...fangs cut into the exposed skin around my wrist.

I screamed arching my back, feeling a tsunami of poison rush through me, dulling my senses, and weakening my brain. The effect was immediate; my wrist was paralyzed.

More screams. Not mine, somewhere in the near distance. Fear gripped me. This time, I didn't see his fangs, but I felt his spikes tear me open, filling my already poisoned veins with more venom. My head rushed with agonizing weakness. I lost the use of my left leg.

Once he filled me with his poison, I would be his dinner. I wasn't going to let that happen.

His scaly body was inches from my mouth. The desire to hurt him roared through me. If he can bite, I can too! I opened my mouth and took a bite.

Ew! I wanted to vomit.

It worked!

The snake's grip loosened enough for me to free one arm. I raised my head to see my sword. The power of my blade in my hand would be instant anti-venom.

It lay less than a yard away, next to a gravestone. I stretched my arm my fingers reaching, feeling the snake tighten its grip again. Digging into the dirt, summoning all the strength I could muster, I dragged the dead weight of my body and the serpent, stretching...breathlessly reaching, closer and closer. Finally! Gratefully I found the steel end, just as the snake's jaw opened to bite again.

There was a surge...instantly the fire of authority was released. Triune Power. The snake uncoiled and I jumped free and scrambled to my feet, flipping the blade I caught the hilt with one hand. The snake drew himself up, fangs dripping with my blood.

"Die, pond scum!" My blade slashed down through the snake's neck, cutting off its head...spraying me with brown blood as it fell in two pieces, before vanishing.

Screams, demonic and human.

My eyes squinted down trying to figure out what I was seeing. Jake bent over. Is he okay? I don't know, I do not know. Joey? Oh, Lord no, Joey lay covered in blood. Dead? Was Joey dead?

* * *

Chapter 16

Inside the vacuum of my nightmare, I heard the sound of something wicked cutting, crunching, biting, and slicing on a path of destruction. Coming for me, coming for us all. The sound was so real, so evil, so frightening, that I couldn't tell if I was inside it or it was inside me. I gasped for breath, pain seared my lungs, screaming at me to stop running, but I could not stop.

The drumming of my heart matched beat-for-beat the pounding of my footsteps, racing, racing to save Gabby! I had to stop the crunching sound. I had to stop death.

The vacuum opens; it is time to wake up! Now I know that everything has gone horribly wrong. The breathing and heartbeat is so loud in my ears as I run. I am an insane girl, crazy with fear, because her best friend is about to die.

Screams of torment flowed from Gabby's lips, her arm appeared to be bent back, completely broken. A few steps behind her stood my old friend, the vampire Lorcan.

She stumbled falling on her knees, whimpering, scrambling to distance herself by crawling away. I suddenly realized she could see the demon. Yesher had opened her eyes.

Blood dripped from Lorcan's mouth. A depraved, eager fire burned in his eyes, crazy with desire to sink his fangs into her flesh.

I ran...not fast enough.

Lorcan lunged.

Suddenly he froze in mid-lunge. His eyes blinked in shock. He staggered to the right; teetering like an axed tree, then fell face first in the dirt, Nate's broadsword sticking out of his back.

Gabby, out of her mind kicked at the demon until it vanished. Nate pulled Gabby up and she collapsed in his arms, trembling, sobbing hysterically.

I made it down the hill. "GABBY! Gabby, Gabby, Gabby!" I breathlessly reached out and she threw herself into my arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wrapped her good arm around my neck.

"You're alive! Shonna. When I didn't see you I thought...well I figured we were all toast." She nervously glanced around. "It's the Night of the Living Dead or worse Evil Dead. What was that thing?"

"That's not important," I said softly. "You're safe."

"No, Shonna, we've got to get out of here before they come back." She was trembling so hard her teeth rattled, "Tell me this wasn't real. Tell me I'm going to wake up. I was just imagining this, right?"

"It's real." I bit my lip, wishing I had not just said that, because she started crying harder. "Hey," I said softly, "it's okay, everything's going to be all right. They're not coming back."

"How do you know that for sure?" she asked.

"I just do," I said calmly.

Gabby wouldn't understand how I knew they wouldn't be back. They had done what they had come to do, distract us. Killing us would have only been an added bonus.

"They don't like dying very much," I said, glancing at Nate, who was hovering, his hands reaching out as if he wanted to hold her. What was up with him?

"Joey's in trouble," he said, pointing toward Jake, who was kneeling over a limp body. "You should go help him."

Seriously, I should go? Why wasn't he going? Inside me, a battle was raging. Sure, I wanted to know that Joey was okay, it was my fault he was hurt, but this was my best friend. Then I found myself saying. "Take care of Gabby for me."

He smiled. "I won't let anything hurt her." He gently folded her in his arms. Gabby seemed to want Nate to hold her. She rested her head on his shoulder. My mouth fell open. What has changed with him and her?

I didn't have time to think about Nate and Gabby, not right now when Joey was hurt. I sprinted over to Jake and fell on my knees next to Joey's limp body.

"Is he dead?" I asked, fighting the queasy feeling that hit me at the sight of all the blood. He looked like human hamburger; giant claw marks cut into his body the entire length of his right side, deep into his chest and legs.

"Not yet," said Jake, tearing his T-shirt, making a tourniquet. He tied it around Joey's leg and arm, and then shoved the rest of the fabric onto Joey's chest. "You need to hold this for twenty minutes," said Jake. "Look at your watch." I put my hand on the cloth and glanced down at my watch. When I leaned on the cloth, his blood started to seep through.

The moon had pulled free of the thin curtain of white clouds. Suddenly, it felt as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees.

I flipped my cell phone free from my pocket and started to call for help. Jake grabbed my phone. "What are you doing?"

"Calling 911."

"You can't do that," he said. "Think, Shonna! How are we going to explain this? We'll all be arrested."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" I asked.

"Help me lift him," he said, bending over.

Jake wrapped one arm around Joey's waist and lifted one leg while I did the same on the other side, shoving the blood-covered rag in my pocket. We carried him, having no idea where we were going. Joey needed a hospital and the gate to the cemetery was locked.

"He sure is heavy for a skinny guy," I said.

We half-dragged him until we reached the edge of the dirt road, Jake stopped. "I have an idea."

We gently laid Joey down. I fell on my knees next to him and placed the rag back on his chest.

"Keep the pressure steady," said Jake then glanced over at Nate. "Can David drive?"

"I've got my learner's permit," said David. He had been standing on a thick high branch of a huge maple tree, struggling to free Gabby's favorite jacket from the tangled branches.

"Forget the jacket. Catch!" Jake tossed him his keys. "There's bolt cutters in my trunk. Cut the lock and get up the hill as fast as you can drive."

David caught the keys in one hand. As he jumped down and ran off, I swear I saw him smiling. He was the perfect choice, seeing he was gifted in Jumping. Scaling the fence would be easy for him.

Joey moaned. He began to tremble. I glanced up at Jake. "He feels like ice."

"Loss of body heat, and shock," said Jake. "That's not good. He bent over to check Joey's pulse and stood up nervously running his hands through his hair, pacing.

Four long minutes had passed before we finally heard the car and saw the headlights of the white Mustang barreling toward us. David stomped on the brake. The tires skidded and spun in the dirt as the Mustang came to a screeching halt against a gravestone. The front bumper was decorated with leaves from small bushes he had taken out on his way up the narrow hill.

We loaded Joey in the back seat. David and I climbed in with him. Nate and Gabby squeezed into the front passenger seat.

The rag on Joey's chest was almost completely soaked. Blood was now running down my arm into my lap, soaking my jeans. That old familiar sour, sick feeling returned to my stomach with a vengeance, stupid, scary mind trip. I could almost smell the bile rising. I squeezed my fists tight. For Joey's sake, I would fight it.

Jake did not hesitate. He backed all the way down the narrow path and did a swift one-point turn, wheels squealing, his door still ajar, as he barreled through the now open gate and slammed on the brakes in front of Nate's Mercedes.

It took less than one minutes for Nate and David to help Gabby into the Mercedes, then four more minutes before both vehicles pulled up in front of the ambulance doors at the hospital Emergency Room. Thankfully, the bleeding in Joey's chest had finally stopped the EMT's loaded Joey onto a gurney. Nate escorted Gabby inside.

The moment that Jake pushed the doors open, and the smell of disinfectant hit my nose I froze. I watched as the door shut in my face while Jake kept walking, not even glancing back to see if I was behind him. Is he annoyed with me?

Inside me the feeling was overwhelming. I needed a bathroom. I needed to clean the blood from my hands. I held my breath and pushed on the glass doors with my fists, stifling the panic that was just below the surface. I moved inside, light-headed...dizzy. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I ran for the restroom. Mercifully, I was alone.

I gazed at myself in the mirror. Joey's blood was on my shirt, my jeans, and my face. I even had the taste of it in my mouth. My head reeled as images flashed like the blur in a window of a high-speed train, light to dark to light again, horrifying images of death, blood, and memories of my father. Conversations I was not supposed to hear. His clothes were soaked in blood. Mom's voice dissolved into tears. Who would do this to him, Lynn? The coffin lid closed. I never even got a chance to see my father's face one last time. I felt that same empty void, right now.

My shaky hand turned on the faucet, staring at the sink, watching with morbid fascination as Joey's blood splashed down the drain, rapidly staining the white porcelain sink crimson red. I could not pull my eyes from it. I watched, feeling myself swirling down that drain along with Joey's blood. Slowly I took a deep breath and tore paper towels from the wall dispenser. I tried unsuccessfully to wipe the blood from my shirt...it was toast, as well as my jeans.

Suddenly I gasped as a new fear hit me. How would we explain Joey's injuries? Surely, the doctor would want answers. It was urgent that I speak with Jake. I forced myself to leave the bloody sink and the safety of the restroom.

Jake was sitting at a small cubicle against the wall, speaking with a heavyset woman who wore round, red eyeglasses.

From beyond the double doors, I heard Joey screaming. Guilt shot through me, like arrows, filling me with pain. "Is Joey going to be okay?" I interrupted their conversation. Jake never look at me and the woman ignored me as well.

A grey-haired man with a stethoscope around his neck, dark-framed glasses, and surgical scrubs, turned the corner. "Are you the people who brought the boy in?

"Yes," I said, my mouth dry.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?"

"Is he okay? Is Joey okay?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"We're treating him," he said, his eyes scanned the blood all over my clothes. "Can you tell me the nature of his injuries?"

I glanced down at Jake. It was as if his mind was gone, his eyes were focused on some distant point, and I didn't think he was aware that someone had asked a question. So I guessed it was all on me.

"An animal attacked us," I said, my eyes still locked on Jake. Really, demons are like wild animals, so perhaps it wasn't completely a lie.

"Did you say animal?"

I looked directly at the doctor. "Yes." What choice do I have?

His eyes narrowed. He glanced at Jake who wasn't exactly cooperating. "What kind of animal?" he asked suspiciously.

I really wished he hadn't asked me that. "I don't know," I said. "We were in the woods and it came after us. Joey couldn't outrun it." Everything I said was technically true.

Say something, Jake! I studied him unable to understand what he was thinking. Was he in shock or did he blame me for everything?

I got up and headed for the exit to get some air.

"Miss, we need you to stay. The police want a statement."

"I'm not leaving," I said. "How is Gabby?"

"Are you family?" he asked.

I hated this line of questioning. What difference did it make if we were family, I loved Gabby like she was my sister. "No," I said. "She's my best friend."

"Sorry, I am not allowed to discuss her case with anyone but family," he said. "Please wait for the police." He turned and walked away, leaving me feeling like a wanted criminal.

I walked very fast to the exit. Once outside I inhaled loads of fresh air. When I came back into the waiting area, I found David sitting on top of a table strewn with magazines.

"They wont let me in," he said.

Still fighting nausea, I sank down into a chair. Not so much from my fear of hospitals, but now, I was concerned about Jake. Why was he giving me the cold treatment?

Jake and Nate came into the room and I was on my feet.

"How's Gabby?"

"Her arms broke, they've set it. She can go home. Her Aunt is with her right now," said Nate. "I wanted to find out what you guys told the doctor?" He whispered the last words.

"An animal attack."

He smiled. "I said the same thing."

"At first they tried to kick me out," said Nate, "Gabby wouldn't let the doctors touch her if I left." I stared at him in utter amazement. I was still having a hard time adjusting to this sudden love affair. Just the other day they couldn't stand the sight of each other. Now she did not want him to leave her side...and he was smiling because of it. I had to admit I was a little hurt that my best friend wanted Nate with her, instead of me. Wouldn't it just figure, they are probably hooking up and Jake and I are probably splitting up?

Three hours later, when I was finally allowed to leave, Gabby and her Aunt drove me home. I lay awake in bed for hours thinking about Joey. All I wanted was for him to make a full recovery and forget this night ever happened.

Jake's silence hurt worst of all. I wish he'd just yelled at me instead of pretending I didn't exist. Maybe it was the way I had treated Joey. If it weren't for my problem with Ian, Joey and Gabby would not be hurt. Tears stung my eyes. I wiped them on my pillow.

I kept hearing the questions from the two uniformed officers and seeing their eyes clouded with disbelief. They had had no reports of animal attacks in the nature preserve. I thought for sure they would slap cuffs on me and cart me away.

By far, the worst part of the entire evening had been seeing the fearful faces of Joey's parents. When they arrived a half hour later, I wanted to throw myself at their feet and beg their forgiveness.

* * *

Chapter 17

News about Joey Miller traveled around school at the speed of light. They said he had been in a knife fight, attacked by Big Foot, a werewolf, a vampire (close). I even heard someone say he was the victim of a terrorist attack.

Supposedly, he lost his legs, his arms, his head, anything and everything but the truth. Even if they heard the truth, they wouldn't believe it. Who would believe that Joey Miller had survived an attack from a twelve-foot demon?

Outside third-period History, I spied Nate drawing something on Gabby's cast. She was smiling, listening to what he said, like they'd been lovers forever. It was going to take me a long while to get used to the idea of seeing the two of them together as a couple.

Lately, Gabby and I hadn't had much time to talk. Today it was the same story. She headed off to Drama, and I went to lunch alone.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the cafeteria was a smoky mist gathering around the ceiling lamps, as if there had been a fire... in the kitchen?

There was something very wrong going on here. The room was stifling with Underworld poison. I could sense it, smell it, that old familiar sulfur alerting the Slayer inside me that demons were near by.

I could see them because I was a Slayer. They were invisible to everyone else in the lunchroom. Ian's evil student body government...his spies...sitting unnaturally still, at a table in the corner. Like Nate said, MIBs. They may have been dressed in black, but they were not men. That was for sure.

This was the first time I'd seen them all together in one place. What freaky thing were they up to? My best guess was that this was another sign of Ian's dominion, and a play to weaken my power against it. Their eyes locked onto mine. I sneered back, not letting on how vulnerable I was feeling... naked...exposed, as I slid past their watchful eyes.

I snatched up a salad and a bottle of water and dropped down on the bench across from Nate.

"Where's Jake?"

"Principal's office," Nate said frowning.

"When did he get called down?" I asked.

"Ten minutes ago," David snapped. "What's so important?"

"I...I was just wondered how Joey was doing?"

Nate huffed in disgust. "Don't pretend you care about him. We know the truth."

Was I crazy or were the Cross brothers in a really bad mood?

"I do care," I said, getting a little annoyed by his accusation.

Now I wondered what Jake might have said to them. Maybe he'd told them how disappointed he was in me because of how it all went down at the cemetery. Here, with his friends I felt like a pariah.

The entire table on my left erupted in screams and fighting, a crescendo of glass breaking, voices yelling...madness. Hatred stunk like old socks. That scent seemed to fizz in the atmosphere, catching everyone like a virus.

Ms. Summer, my guidance counselor, attempting to stop a fight, hooked Susan's arm. Tina swung. Susan ducked. Tina's fist got Ms. Summer in the chest. I gasped, watching her fall as the girls just stepped over her and continued their fight.

Jake came storming in and stopped for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. "Something evil..." he said, barely audible.

I stared at him, feeling such resentment. "What's wrong with you?" I asked.

He slammed his fist on the table. "Mr. Corbet just gave me detention for the next two days!"

"Why?" I asked. At least he was speaking to me.

"He claimed I was shooting hoops off lights in the hall. It's my fault they're all broken."

"You did that?" I asked.

"NO!" he shouted. "Now I have detention for nothing!"

"I told you he was evil," I said. "That's why I need to get him away from Mom."

"Oh yeah, right, I forgot. It's always about you, isn't it, Princess?" His face twisted with a sarcastic sneer. "You and your little family problems."

A tingling sensation started at the top of my skull, and like a frenzied swarm of locusts rapidly devouring my mind and nervous system, I became filled with rage. Fight it! I needed to listen to my inner counsel. I gave in to the toxic antagonism. That was my first mistake.

"So you are angry with me. I knew it."

"Yeah, I am," he snapped. "Joey got hurt. Are you happy about that? He could die. It's what you wanted all along, isn't it, to get rid of him?"

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me? Do you seriously think I am happy that Joey got hurt? If you do, then you're insane! Let me remind you, Jake, it was your stupid idea to bring him along in the first place. It's not my fault that he didn't listen and stay in the woods. It's yours! If you want to be mad at someone, look in the mirror."

He glared at me like I was some demon he wanted to kill. "Why don't you do us all a big favor and get lost."

I leaned closer, the fire of hatred burning in my throat, a horrid, awful fury. "Poor Mr. Perfect can't handle hearing the truth. You think you have all the answers don't you? You think you can fix the world's problems...well guess what buddy? You can't! You are nothing more than an overzealous, prideful jerk. Oh, and don't worry." I held up my hand. "I'm leaving, I am so out of here." I stood fast, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. I seized my salad, dumped the entire contents into the trash, clearing the doors, I sprinted down the hall.

As I unlatched my locker door, the floodgate opened up. I wept. I swayed, lolling my head against the gray metal door, knowing it was over. I'd just lost Jake. When I finally stopped crying...a bleak vacuum cut wide open inside my chest. It hurt worse than any demonic venom.

After a few moments, I fished a crumpled napkin from my pocket and wiped my eyes, feeling so lost and hopelessly damaged. I shoved books and papers into my locker, slammed the door shut, and headed for Calculus. I paused outside the door for a moment to calm myself before stepping inside.

To my relief, there were only two people in their seats. I slid into mine, across from Amanda Shapiro, and opened my bag to look for my assignment folder, the same folder that contained Binco's picture. The yellow folder was not in my bag. Where is it? I searched through all my papers, finding nothing.

It was gone! In a panic, I turned my bag upside down and poured everything out on my desk. After a few minutes, I realized I did not have it. The file must have fallen out, but where? I searched the floor under Amanda's seat.

"Have you seen...?" I started to ask. She sneezed loudly. Her eyes and nose were Christmas red, her face pale as snow.

"Are you sick?" I asked. A dumb question, of course she was.

"Yes," she whispered.

Annoyance hit me, a leftover emotion from lunch. "Why are you in school?"

Her face puckered up as if she were going to cry, but instead, she tossed her head back and violently jerked forward, sneezed, not even bothering to cover her mouth or her nose.

Ew!

"You really are sick."

This gave me an idea. I needed to retrace my steps and find my lost folder. I'd either dropped it in the hall, or it was still inside my locker.

"Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office?" I asked.

She wiped her nose and gave a weak nod.

At that moment Ms. Melanson, our tall, tanned teacher with short, straight, black hair, came into the room. She glanced around and asked where everyone was. The rear door swung open and a chaos of students squeezed all at once through the narrow entry, rushing to take there seats...all late.

I raised my hand. "Ms. Melanson, Amanda is sick. Can I take her to the nurse?"

Her eyes narrowed as she studied Amanda, then swiftly tore a hall pass from her desk pad, her lips curling up in disgust as she dropped the signed pink slip on my desk. "Try to hurry back."

When we got into the empty hall, my eyes feverishly searched the floor. Maybe someone had kicked it or trampled on it, or tossed it in the trash. Maybe someone had turned it in at the office and our principal had it... I shuddered at that thought.

Before we reached the main office, Amanda sneezed twice into her hand and once on me. "I'm sobby," she said, blowing her nose.

I flashed my hall pass at the woman behind the desk. She motioned for us to go in.

A strong disinfectant smell assaulted my nostrils. I froze. Here came the queasiness and sweaty palms. I hated the fact that my body betrayed me with these stupid phobias. I forced myself into the room, pushing Amanda ahead of me.

The twelve-square foot room was filled with students sitting or laying on cots, obvious victims of the Cafeteria madness. Two freshmen boys had blood-smeared faces. Another held a compress to his eye. In spite of my nausea, I chuckled. I could not help it. The scene struck me as funny, very funny.

"What do we have here?" asked Mrs. Wilton, a small woman with black hair and glasses. She never smiled, but she was always kind to me.

"Amanda has a virus, I think."

She directed Amanda to an empty seat and shoved a thermometer in her mouth.

"You may go back to class." She waved me toward the door.

I left, eager to distance myself from that disinfectant. My stomach started feeling better, but my head hurt for some unknown reason.

"Hey, what are you doing out of class?" I turned to see an evil, satisfied grin on Ian's face. He thought he had me for sure. Could my day get any worse?

I flashed him my hall pass, "I was taking Amanda to the nurse's office."

"Amanda couldn't go by herself?" he asked sarcastically. "Naturally, you offered to take her. Anything to get out of class, am I right?"

What is he implying? Does he think I'm looking for an excuse to fail? No, my excuse was to search for my folder.

"She was sick," I said, "very weak."

On top of the headache, the smell of demon was making me physically ill.

"Um...Ian."

"Mr. Corbet," he corrected, pulling himself up taller, and placing his right hand on his hip. "In school you'll address me correctly. Is that understood, Shonna?"

"Oh right...Mr. Corbet," I said icily. "I need to get back to class before I miss something important. You would not want me to fail, would you? After all, I might embarrass you in front of your entire staff."

Ian's eyes stabbed me like a knife, as if he could kill me right now and enjoy it. I wasn't intimidated. I was feeling the same way.

"You know, you're always such a little trouble-maker. I should give you a month's detention right now." He raised his arm like he was going to backhand me.

My mouth fell open. "For what?" I asked, knowing I'd done nothing wrong.

"Disrespecting a school administrator. That would look good on your school record, now wouldn't it? Perhaps I should add skipping class to that list. I think I'll do that when I get back to the office."

Anger raised its ugly head. I held it together though, rather than yielding to its power and giving him something else to use against me. He was enjoying himself watching me squirm. A slight smile crept at the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly I noticed what was in his other hand. My folder! "The... that's my homework!" I stammered.

It was easy to recognize my writing hand-printed across the front. He started to open it but hesitated. "I found it by your locker," he said in a cool tone. "Did you think you could get away with this?"

I swallowed dryly unable to tear my eyes off the folder. The yellow folder that was filled with evidence linking him to Binco, evidence I'd planned to show mom and convince her that Ian was a Familiar Spirit bent on destroying our family, was in his hand.

I thought about grabbing it and running, but what if he had opened it already, and had discovered what I was trying to do. I knew mom would side with him. It would be all over. I'd be lucky if she'd ever speak to me after this. I would be locked in my room, or worse, some dungeon, if Ian had his way. They'd tell me it was for my own good.

"You think I'm stupid, Shonna? You think I don't know what you're up to?"

My adrenaline spiked. He's already looked. He knows everything; it's already too late! My mind raced, thinking. What is Plan B? What did Jake say? My brain shut down, and now I had no idea how to get out of this mess and on top of that, I couldn't speak.

"You think you can use the excuse that you lost your homework, that your teachers will just let you slide because of me? Because I'm marrying your mother?"

Slowly it began to dawn on me. He hadn't seen the photo! Ian didn't know what he was holding. Now, I had to give a convincing performance. Not give anything away. I forced my eyes to look at him, not my folder, and I tried to keep that same level of arrogance in my voice. "You want to give it back to me? Or were you planning on turning in my assignment for me?" I said holding out a shaky hand.

For a moment, his eyes shifted between the folder and my trembling hand, as if he suspected me of hiding something. He moved it to his other hand and opened it. In mechanical fashion, he slowly turned the first page, glancing at its contents and then back to me. Silence. The weight of dread and fear hung like an executioner's noose in front of me.

He studied my face with suspicious eyes. "You'd like that wouldn't you? You'd have something else bad to tell your mother about me." He closed the cover. "I'll let you go this time with a warning, but I'd better not catch you out of class again, understood?" He waited for me to nod before he handed it over. I took it and hugged it to my chest.

"Go on, get out of here. You don't want to miss class."

I turned, glancing back at his smug face before speeding off down the hall. I ran into class and fell into my seat. With shaking hands, I opened the cover. On top sat my homework assignment. I thumbed to the next two pages, and relief washed over me; next to the last piece of paper was the photo of Art Binco.

Now, I had the evidence back in my possession, handed to me by the very man I was going to bury with it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all. A stab of pain hit my throat, and I started to sneeze.

* * *

Chapter 18

I lay in my dark room, not moving from my bed, for four days. My goal was to eventually blend into the cotton fibers of the sheets, as a permanent memorial to my loser life.

A stormy gust of wind tossed my sheer curtains in a ghostly dance. I should have closed the window, but I didn't move. Let it rain; who really cares?

Floating along the breeze was the unearthly sound of gentle music and voices singing an arrangement so remarkably soft, seemingly miles away...drawing slowly closer. Within that framework were whispers of spiritual things, followed by the low, muffled roar of a beast... a lion.

A million tiny, dazzling crystals, twisting, and swirling at the foot of my bed, took on the shape of...Ariel. The flames of his sword cast swaying silhouettes across my floral wallpaper. Ariel, my cherubim mentor was a mammoth creature, half-lion, half-man. He wore medieval battle gear. Any normal person's heart might faint with fear, startled at seeing his sharp teeth, and huge glassy eyes that could read one's life story with a single glance.

He looked exactly the same as he did the first night I'd seen him five years ago, the day he gave me the power to fight and defeat demons.

Any other time I'd have run to him and thrown my arms around his massive yellow head. Not now. Now, I just lay in my bed like a frail weakling, instead of the powerful Slayer he had once trained.

Ariel's fierce eyes pierced right through me. His power exposed all my guilt and shame. I swallowed hard, trying to convince myself that I didn't really care.

"Slayer," his voice said, heavy with concern. "Tell me, have you broken covenant?"

Why was he asking me this, when he already knew everything that had happened? I stared at him, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Perhaps you don't want to see me," he mused. "Perhaps, your mind's contaminated by dark lies or you've forsaken your duty, abandoned your sword? Perhaps all of these things are true?"

"It's good to see you too, Ariel," I said, acerbically. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No? I doubt that's true," he said.

I glanced away. I could feel his persuasive eyes burning into me. I felt small.

"The enemy's a master at planting destructive thoughts. That shouldn't come as any surprise to you. You already know that your mind's been poisoned."

"Sure, whatever's left of my mind," I muttered. I knew I'd grown mentally fragile from the moment I'd lost control of everything in my life, so, big deal. My gray matter had been taken captive. Good! I surrender, white flag and all. "You came all this way, because you're concerned about my thoughts?"

"I'm afraid they're not entirely yours." With a slow intake of air, he moved closer. "Tell me, what have you become, Slayer?"

I glanced at the mirror that hung on my closet door, taking in my red nose, blood-shot eyes, and wild, troll doll hair. "Slime," I said brusquely.

"You may be correct."

He was way too quick to agree with me. If this was a pep talk, he was failing massively. No, he was hoping I would instantly recover. Yeah, like that's going to happen. "If you're here to zap me with some supernatural power, don't even bother."

"I can do nothing for you."

Perfect! One of the most powerful creatures from the Supernatural world couldn't help me! Well, that figured. Even he knew I was a lost cause.

The fire on his sword fizzled out...a soft pop left us in darkness. I snapped on my bedside lamp. His laser-like eyes, momentarily startled, causing a shivering chill. I nervously glanced away. Sure, I knew Ariel; it had been a while since he'd come to visit. I'd forgotten just how powerful he was.

My bed sank from the weight of his body as he dropped onto my mattress. When his hood fell back, waves rippled through his golden mane. A woodsy, floral, familiar scent filled my nostrils, and I remembered how I had adored him and longed for his presence. Now, Ariel was here and I didn't even care.

With one fluid movement, he stabbed his gothic sword into my floor and rested his clawed hands on the hilt. "We all make choices...life or death." His deep voice filled my bedroom, bouncing off the walls of my mind. "Surrendering your power is exactly what the enemy wants. If you wish for a different life, you can have it. Over time, you will forget you once had power and become just like so many self-centered, materialistic people, ignorantly doubting the very existence of the Underworld, but Shonna, why would you want to do that, when you've been given such a great gift?" He leaned closer, frowning. "You don't want to hear any of this, do you?"

No Kidding. I crossed my arms in front again, hoping he'd get the message, hoping he'd leave, so I could return to my misery.

"Listen with your heart. This storm inside of you is tormenting your soul. Let it go." He paused. "Yesher is a wise Father who believes in you, Shonna, even if you fail. It's this connection of trust that gives you the ability to defeat evil. That's your destiny – not slime."

Every word hit me and filled me with shame. My eyes stung with tears, "It's hopeless!"

"Is there anything completely without hope?"

I sat up straight, gritting my teeth. "In case you hadn't noticed, my mother is marrying the Prince of Darkness, who is also my principal from hell! I'm sure Jake hates my guts, cause he's avoiding me as if I'm human waste. I can't blame him. On top of that, I've got this head cold that feels like the bubonic plague. I'm miserable and I just want to die. So go away and let me suffer in peace." I slid back down on the pillow.

"When did this become all about you?" He intoned. "You think your father called himself slime?"

He'd hit me below the belt when he mentioned dad. I clenched my teeth. My eyes leveled on him, feeling smoldering embers ignite anger inside my lethargic state of mind.

"Why?" I demanded. "Why didn't you tell me a long time ago that dad was a Slayer?"

"Discretion was necessary. You had to be trained early. Once Belial knew you had Triune power, and discovered your future, he'd try to kill you."

"He did try to kill me! What does that have to do with dad?"

"If we told you that Belial had killed your father, what would you have done?"

Immediately I thought, Revenge.

"Precisely," said Ariel. "It would've changed everything. He had to believe you were spiritually ignorant; otherwise, he would have disposed of you immediately. You surprised me. I never expected you to possess the same force as your father. You are just like him, you know. The Underworld feared his name. They fear yours too, at least until a few days ago."

I buried my face in my hands, remembering our empty house after dad's death. Every night I waited for the front door to open, to hear his voice. Every ounce of me screamed to hear the truth. What really happened? I still haven't got answers, yet now I wasn't afraid to ask.

"I believed you when you told me Belial killed my dad. You know I'm not that little girl anymore. I've learned a few things, fighting demons. I know that demons aren't the only ones to do his dirty work." I looked without fear into Ariel's eyes. "So, who really murdered my father?"

Ariel grimaced. He stood and moved to the window, saying nothing, just stared out into the dark night. I remembered his glorious history, when darkness first entered the world and Ariel was a tough cherubim guardian to the throne of Yesher. As a young lion, he fought for centuries to protect the Tree of Life, and for over a thousand years, after cutting the highest Covenant in blood, he bestowed Triune powers on all new Slayers, and readied them for battle. Yet, now his shoulders sagged, and he showed signs of aging. I was demanding answers, and I could tell he was weighing my question, as if the answer held a great deal of importance.

"If I were at liberty to say... well then." He turned to look at me. "You see I have my orders."

"And you'll never disobey an order."

He pulled himself up, as if I'd given him the highest praise. "I must leave," he said. Instantly, he was at my side. "I shall finish what I came to say. Yesher has a question."

Just like that, he had my full attention. Ariel had never given me a message or question directly from Yesher. So, in spite of how I was feeling, I was more than mildly curious.

"Do you remember the reason you hate your enemy?"

"Seriously, do I really need to answer that? Hello? He killed my father."

"Will someone else you love have to die?" he asked.

Immediately I thought of mom. "He'd better not or I'll..."

"You'll do what?" asked Ariel, "Lay there like slime?"

His words slapped me in the face. Okay I get it! I've been selfish, and irresponsible. This was not about me. I get it now.

"He will stop at nothing to kill you," Ariel advised, "even if it means killing innocent lives."

How was it possible that I could have gotten so off track, that I could have forgotten what I had trained most of my life to do? What a fool I'd been, wallowing in self-pity while others were in peril for their lives. "Forgive me," I whispered softly, knowing the minute I asked that it was a done deal. Still, it was necessary to ask.

"Slayer Wells," said Ariel. He had vanished, yet his voice hung close to my ears. "Wait. He is coming... stand up."

I climbed out of bed. There was silence... a long, expectant silence. A brilliant burst of tiny lights, like fireflies, were everywhere in my room. A whirlwind of swirling sparkles, different from anything I'd ever seen.

The irresistible power of His intoxicating presence weighed heavily against my flesh. He was here in my bedroom...a paradise of peace that satisfied a soul with complete contentment. Nothing could parallel His manifestation. I would do it. Give up my life. Make me a Seraphim wreath circling forever His regal head. I had the overwhelming urge to fall on my knees, so I did.

A floral fragrance penetrated His swirling glory. I breathed in His sweet rose perfume. My senses were infused. His fingers interlaced around my heart...love exploded... longing, such longing. Power pulled from flesh to fluttering pneumatic wings to endless euphoria... glowing in the presence of Him. I could not speak. It didn't matter... there was nothing to say.

"Don't move," His voice was gentle, yet persuasive.

Something like a slight breeze brushed my lips. The air crackled and power filled me. I gasped. All stress fell away. My spirit cut loose and I was flying.

Instantly I understood the wisdom of joy. Not idle toys for fools, as some believe. No, joy was perception, freedom, yet so much more than common words failed to adequately describe.

"Shonna," He whispered. "Give me your hand."

I raised my right hand and watched in surprise, as it turned on its own until my white palm faced up. I closed my eyes.

I felt my sword fill my hand. My fingers closed around the hilt of my steel... wisdom flooded my soul and blood filled my mind. Images raced though me. A royal, blood covenant cut deep into the pages of humankind... changing the course of history. A blood lineage cascading through my veins, born of the King of all Kings, so pure, so rich, that it sealed my destiny forever.

I could smell the heat of flames. I opened my eyes wide... really wide. FIRE! My shaft burned like Ariel's. Impossible! I had Ancient fire!

He spoke from inside of me. "I believe in you. I always will. Choose this hour to put on Me, your Armor. Choose Ruach Ha Emet (the spirit of truth) as your sword. Choose to fight the Underworld in this present darkness. Listen. I will speak."

An inconceivable force traveled up my arm, into my chest. I cried out as the fire on Ruach Ha Emet consumed me, cauterizing the dark places of my once-tortured soul, healing my pain, the loss of my Father. As a King loves his Princess and a father loves his daughter, so I was loved. I knew it without flowery words.

Yesher, stay forever!

Softly, he was gone, along with my horrid head cold and the depressing apathy. Now, I was forever changed and so was my Sword. It had a name, Ruach Ha Emet. I would call it, Emet, for short.

I slashed figure eights as I tested the blade. The flames burned but never destroyed the steel. It sliced through the air in a magical pattern of light. Emet sang to me, whispers of courage, ownership, and endless victories. My weapon and I were fused forever as one unit...steel merging with spirit, and communicating with flesh.

I could hardly believe that I had Ancient fire, the strength of heroes who had fought battles years before my time on this planet. One lethal cut from my sword would engulf a demon in a scorching, permanent death.

It was a reward that only Ancient Slayers possessed. I'd done nothing good to deserve it, yet it was mine. Words of gratitude like thank you seemed inadequate and shallow, much too easy to convey what my soul was feeling. Yet, words were necessary. When spoken, they were the catalyst of all power.

I knew that my words could ignite the fire, but how would the fire go out?

Extinguish or go out? I tried them both.

A sudden flicker, followed by a light pop, and the flames fizzled out...so cool.

I humbly studied the steel, forged by the hand of Yesher. I held it like it was a priceless piece of fine art.

Scrolling symbols and pinholes cut into the shaft to form Old English lettering. I carried my blade to my bedside lamp and read the script... Word Eternal. I flipped it over and read, Spirit of Consuming Fire.

* * *

Chapter 19

The numbers on the clock glowed in the inky blackness...5:30 a.m., too early to be staring at the ceiling. My mind was unnaturally peaceful, in spite of the knowledge that mom was still involved with that demon snake. I was not troubled, not in the least, not by anything.

Well, that was not completely true. I missed Jake. I shut my eyes. This chasm in my chest was an agonizing reminder of our breakup. That sinking dreadful feeling that maybe it was really over between us only increased my pain to the nth degree. I wasn't at all sure if I did call him that he'd be willing to even talk to me. I had to know for sure, and there was only one way to find out.

I reached for my cell. There had been no calls or texts. I felt a little disappointed. Hmmm...not even a call from Gabby?

After disappointment, I had instant fear. What if Jake hangs up on me, as soon as I say hello. So calling was out of the question, but texting... hmm! He could hit delete just as easily. Then I'd never know if he got the message or just didn't want to talk with me. What a dilemma!

So calling it is. My thumb slid over Jake's smiling face in my contact list. Immediately I thought about hanging up.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry," I said fast. "I'm sorry about Joey and Gabby and what I said. I'm sorry for everything."

A long moment of silence and my heart did a nosedive. Say something Jake, anything...yell at me but do not hang up!

"I can't believe you called," said Jake. "No. I'm sorry. I was a jerk. Forgive me."

"I...of course," I said, surprised by his apologizing. "Jake you didn't do anything wrong. I did."

"Sure I did," he said. "I hurt you. I hope I never do that again."

Just like that, the pain in my chest was gone, yet I couldn't talk. Tears started falling.

"See now," he said. "I've caused you more pain. You're crying.

"I am just happy...relieved," I said. "I miss you."

"You have no idea," said Jake. "I thought I was losing my mind, especially when Gabby told me you were sick. Are you okay now? You sound okay."

"Much better," I said, wiping my eyes on my sheet. "I really crashed and burned. Ariel came, you know. It was good to see him, not so much under the circumstances, you know what I mean."

"Things must have been really bad for him to show up," said Jake.

"I have fire."

"You have fire. Uh, sure...right, not very funny, Shonna."

"I'm serious, Jake. I didn't know it was even possible. I think maybe Yesher feels I really need it, because of Ian...that's all I can figure."

"I am so jealous!" said Jake. "Most Slayers have to wait their whole lives for that kind of killing power."

Jake was right. Nobody my age had fire, nobody that I knew of anyway. We had all learned the history at the beginning of our training. Ancient Elders have existed for centuries, loyal, perfected in faith, heavy-duty demon killing machines. Unlike most senior citizens that retire to warmer climates, like Florida, for an easier life, the Ancients gather on a frigid mountaintop in Colorado, hardening themselves in preparation for the end of days, the final battle between good and evil. The powers given them are equal to no others anywhere, simply because Triune, pneumatic fire will eliminate the existence of wickedness in this earthly realm. Only those of a truly humble spirit can ever be given this honor. That's why, deep down inside, I believed it was only temporary, for a season, since I was far from being qualified on all counts.

"I know we failed," said Jake. "Ian must have known we were there. It's the only logical explanation."

He was talking about the cemetery and the attack on our small band of warrior Slayers.

"I sure hope Joey is okay."

"I went to visit him yesterday," said Jake. "The nurse told me what you did."

"What did she say?" I asked, not completely sure, since I'd done so many things I wasn't very proud of lately.

"You donated blood for Joey. That was a big sacrifice knowing how much you fear hospitals. You inspired me, and I donated too. I made Nate and David go. The big babies! They whined like little girls, but they went anyway."

"I went the next morning before school. I should have done more. Joey risked his life to save my mom. Giving blood was nothing. I'm not afraid anymore."

"Did you talk to your mom yet?"

"No. It's frustrating. I will though, soon, real soon."

I didn't tell Jake about my plans to go to Water's Garage. I wanted to go alone. I was just not ready to let Jake inside my world of pain when it came to the subject of my dad. Besides, Jake was carrying enough heavy cargo on his own shoulders without adding more of my damaged life to the pile.

When I came downstairs, mom was standing by the front door, her silver handbag draped over her slender arm. Clutching a tissue, she stared spellbound at the doorknob.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"Oh," she jumped and spun around, grabbing her chest. "You scared me. I didn't hear you come down." She fidgeted nervously with her hair. "You're better now. That's good," she smiled.

"Yeah, I had a visit from an angel, and now I'm well." Why not tell the truth? She'd just think I was joking. Still I waited for a reaction...nothing.

I studied her closely. Not only was she wearing dark green colors that she'd never be caught wearing outside the house. She was restless and clearly not herself. I'd noticed her changing lately. Now it seemed my fun-loving mom had been replaced by whatever this thing was...a demon, controlled robot, maybe. It struck me that something else was missing. The house was much too quiet. "Where's Aunt Linda and Peter?"

"Honey, they've been in the city for the past three days, visiting Aunt Lisa in Boston. Linda is checking out a great florist for my wedding. Apparently, Lisa can get us a big discount on arrangements," answered mom. "They'll be back tomorrow morning. Oh, and I almost forgot, Peter's anxious to talk to you about something. He wouldn't tell me." She fished her car keys out of her bag and dropped them on the small table.

"You're not driving to work?" I asked.

"No. Ian doesn't think it's safe. You know, since the murder and everything. He wants to protect me, so he's driving me from now on. It's not safe out there Shonna. Maybe you should come with us too. After all, you're going the same place Ian is."

I scooped up the keys. "No thanks. Um, mom, this just sounds a little insane. You've never been afraid to drive before."

"Oh, Ian's right, you know. I need to listen to him. He's looking out for my safety. I've never had anyone who cared so much. Even your father didn't worry about me like this."

"Mom... that's not caring. That's control. Look, mom, we need to talk."

Suddenly, the front door opened. Mom stiffened, nervously shushing me up. "We'll talk later, I promise," she whispered.

Ian strolled through the front door without knocking. "Ready?" he said, not wanting an answer. He took her arm and pulled her toward the door, glancing back at me. "I thought you were sick."

"Not anymore."

"I have no patience for fakers. Do it again and I'll give you detention."

"I'm not a faker," I said. "I had a virus."

Ian turned and smiled down at mom. "Honey," he said in a soft counterfeit voice. "I hate to impose on you, but I was wondering..." He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "Would you mind getting me one of those bottles of cold water from the freezer in the basement?"

"Sure," said mom, but before leaving, her eyes flashed nervously at me.

"Little Bee," said Ian cracking a smile of arrogance. He stepped directly in front of me. "You know what my favorite thing is about this world?"

I hate him calling me that name. I stared, not responding, wondering what evil game, he was playing now.

"It's so ripe with cruel intentions, isn't it?" He leaned in closer. "I see everything. So don't be fooled by some false sense of power that you think you might possess. And don't think I'm going to be easy to kill." He gave me a knowing grin. "You just can't imagine how many have tried and failed." His face waxed hard, while his voice went very soft. "Remember this little Bee, I have ample opportunity. I can take everything away from you...everything you've ever loved or ever wanted."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I was loath to admit that he was right. He had authority at school. He would keep me from the best colleges. He'd torment, hurt, or kill everyone close to me. He had ample time alone with mom...controlling her like some limp puppet on a string, and that's what frightened me most of all. I shuddered to think what else he was capable of doing.

He chuckled, perhaps from the shocked look on my face. "So we'll talk later about your disrespectful attitude toward me, understood?"

I gritted my teeth, wanting to kill him, feeling my clothes starting to shift, just as mom came back with his water and the shifting stopped.

He took the bottle and kissed her forehead. "I'm such a lucky man." He turned and smiled at me. "Standing here with my two favorite women in all the world." He winked.

"No," said mom, wrapping her arms around him, "I'm the lucky one."

I think I'm going to be sick... all over his shiny, wingtip shoes.

Now more than ever, I was determined to expose Ian. Mom needed to know the truth and end this madness before it was too late. It seemed nearly impossible to get her alone. I thought her birthday would be the perfect excuse to spend time with her, just the two of us, but my plans were sabotaged. I was forced to go to dinner with Ian and the entire family at the country club... boring!

Every year since dad's death mom had always thought up fun things to do on her birthday and mine, like the year mom decided we should have a picnic at the top of the world. We broke into Treasure Island after midnight and had the park all to ourselves. We rocked the place. We'd climb the Ferris wheel to the top car, sat inside, and had a midnight meal at the very top of the world. We cleaned up afterwards, and I'd watch mom drop an envelope of money in the slot of the office door, with a thank you note. It all stopped when they finally got security cameras. Besides, I was getting too old for that kind of entertainment, wasn't I? I believed that these fun times with mom were more then just therapy; this was my idea of a wonderful, happy life. I missed it. Mom promised we would have a fun night soon. Time was running out, it was less than four weeks before the wedding. I wasn't going to wait much longer.

After school, I stopped at the Common Ground to pick up a large regular coffee, then made my way to Water's Auto Repair. It was around 4:30 by the time I walked into Brian's office. I knew this, because the mechanics were all getting ready to go home.

Gauge sat at his desk studying a parts manual. He was not wearing his usual greasy coveralls. He had on a white, sleeveless T-shirt, and jeans. Painted on his muscular right arm was a tattooed copy of Reni's painting, The Archangel Michael, about to take out the devil. Underneath were scars, resembling claw marks, probably the result of some demonic attack.

"Have a seat," he said.

I slid into an old metal chair. "Is it true?" I asked, "Were you with my father when he died?"

"I thought you might want to talk with me one of these days." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Sam was my friend..." He winced as if in pain.

I understood that pain. I lived with it everyday. You'd think I would feel some sort of consolation knowing someone else suffered too, but there is no relief in shared agony. No permanent solace for this wretched grief, just that same torturous ache.

Something just clicked into place in my mind. "My dad didn't fight the Familiar alone. You fought with him. You made him a hero, didn't you?"

"Not true," he snapped in anger, almost a knee-jerk reaction. "Sam is the real hero!" He buried his face in his hands.

I wish now that I hadn't come. I got up to leave.

"Wait," he reached out. "I'm sorry. Please, don't go."

Reluctantly, I sat back down.

His eyes flickered up to meet mine. "You should know what happened. I'm just not sure...how to begin." He stood up and paced slowly in front of the windows.

"You think this armor makes you a super-hero? You think you can take on the world? Well, that was your father. He didn't think about the consequences before he did anything. Sam just wanted a better world for you to live in. That's why he did it." His shoulders slumped forward, and he sighed deeply. "Your father needed to get out of town. He was in trouble. He had done something that made him a target. The Elder wars caused many of us to go undercover to protect our world leaders. When we got the call to go to England, Sam thought it was his perfect cover, so we both took the job. He believed his family would be safe... you and Terry. They'd leave you alone, they'd follow him, and he was right, they did."

"I don't understand, dad got in trouble with the law?" I asked.

"Yes and no. I can't tell you anything specific. Not right now. In fact, the less you know the better off you'll be."

I nodded only because I was impatient to hear the rest of the story.

"We worked undercover as the Prime Minister's bodyguards for two weeks. That's what every Slayer did to protect our world leaders from the spiritual war Belial had waged. I kept telling Sam that we were being watched. I was sure of it.

Sam's mind was always on the business he had left behind. A dark cloud stayed over him. He remained depressed, miserable, missing his family. I finally convinced him to go home. He bought a ticket for a morning flight, but he never made it.

We didn't question anything...we should have. That night at, 11:45, we had to meet the Prime Minster at the church cemetery. He said he had important news to tell us. We were not surprised that he wanted to meet us in private...nobody could be trusted and yet I couldn't image why he'd chosen the cemetery. I figured he had his reasons.

It was bitter cold. Leaves were burning in piles along the fence. My eyes stung from the smoke, but I stayed focused on the job. I kick myself now, every time I think about it. The fires were to mask the odor of demons. They came, so many of them. We killed most of them. Sam stayed right in front, protecting the Prime Minister, shielding him. Only we didn't know the Prime Minster was already dead. Killed by a Familiar Spirit, the same spirit who stood directly behind him." Brian gulped hard. "He stabbed your father through the back into his heart."

My hand shot up to my mouth. I gasped.

Gauge dropped down into the chair, slumped forward. "I didn't know..." He shook his head. "Sam's body lay in a puddle of blood...the Familiar Spirit laughing as he vanished. I carried Sam in my arms into a small hole-in-the-wall pub nearby, the only place open. He was already dead when they got him to the hospital."

Gauge hung his head. A hush descended on the room.

The atmosphere weighed heavy with misery...as an apparition from years past haunted the space between us. The silence grew awkward. Hard. I struggled to think of something to say...thank you. It didn't seem at all appropriate. I stood up. "I have to go." I had almost made it to the door, when Gauge stopped me.

"Wait, please."

I turned to face him.

"If there is anything, anything at all, I can do for you and Terry, please don't hesitate to ask."

I gave him a small nod before I sprinted for mom's Jeep. How stupid I had been, thinking I needed to know the truth. Perhaps I'd just been better off not knowing. It hurt thinking about why. Why dad was not content to just take care of his family instead of getting in trouble. Really, what kind of trouble did you get in to, dad? The only small comfort I had now was the knowledge that dad didn't die alone.

I started the engine. A black motorcycle stealthily pulled away from the side of the building. The driver looked just like Rick Steel. I floored it. When my tires broke free from the loose asphalt, I jerked but stalled out. By the time I got the Jeep going again, the bike was long gone.

I closed my eyes briefly. I knew it was Rick...the vintage Harley-Davidson with the same dent in the front fender. Why would Rick follow me? Spying on me? You are imagining things, girl. Pull yourself together.

I took a deep breath. My thoughts drifted back to the black-and-white images of dad's funeral. I had never fully comprehended the shared sadness with other people. How insensitive my little world must have been back then, thinking dad's death happened to mom and me only. I'd never even considered the pain of others.

Now I saw it clearly on Brian Waters' face, as if the words were written in permanent marker. What if. He had to be thinking this, because I could not stop thinking about it too. What if Brian Waters had been standing in front of the Prime Minister instead of dad?

* * *

Chapter 20

A kiss is a powerful thing. Connections are created in the realm of the soul. I had kissed Rick or he had kissed me. Something very intimate had passed between us. It was because of this link that I could feel Rick's anger.

The moment he walked into English class and took a seat by the rear door, I knew that something was wrong. He buried his face in a book. Yet, he felt my watchful concern, because he kept glancing up from his book to look my way.

I turned when Amanda brushed past me to take her seat and again as Mr. Baker came in the room. I tried to get my mind back on my work, but I couldn't help thinking of Rick and glancing back every few minutes. He returned my gaze only once more, for just a split second, an aggressive, angry stare, that sent a chill through me. Did I do something wrong?

I thought about the last time I had seen Rick, spying on me at Water's garage. I should be the one who was irritated. The bell rang, and poof, Rick was gone. I didn't know exactly why, but I had to follow him. I threw myself into the crowd of moving students, and spotted his leather jacket in the sea of bodies. He had stopped at his locker, tossed something inside, and slammed it hard with his fist. He glanced back once before heading off. I hoped he hadn't seen me.

He swiftly turned left, down the short narrow corridor that led out to the rear parking lot. I cautiously approached the corner and waited until I heard the outside door open and close, before I slipped around and headed for the same exit.

Turning the knob, I opened the windowless door just a crack, and squeezed outside, plastering myself against the inside wall of the door alcove.

I glanced at my watch. History had just started, so I would be late. I didn't care. I needed to know what troubled Rick. He stood surrounded by a group of tall guys. His body language told me he was tense.

The tallest in the group looked to be around twenty-five with brown, spiky hair. He wore a silver pentagram from a chain on his neck. "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" he bellowed, slamming his fist into Rick's chest. "Do it! I want Shonna. Don't waste my time with any of these other little girls...we need her, understood?"

I gasped low when I heard my name.

I pressed my face against the rough cement and yet I still couldn't hear what Rick said, his voice was too low. He stared at them defiantly, not bothered by the group's aggressiveness.

The taller man leaned in closer. "Don't mess this up, Steel!" He turned to leave. "By Friday! Got it?"

Rick barely nodded, as he watched them pile into a white Cadillac SUV and drive off. A second later he headed back for the door. I slipped inside, my pulse pounding as I sprinted down the hallway around the corner and ducked into the girls' bathroom, my forehead moist with sweat. I dabbed paper towels on my face. I made a note to myself to fix my blotchy makeup job before lunch period, before I saw Jake.

I waited a full five minutes before I dared open the door. The halls were deserted. I hurried without stepping lightly, fearing at any second I'd run smack into Rick, or worse, Ian. I turned left, relieved to find the hall empty. I dashed toward my classroom, a short five doors down.

My heart rate spiked with the sound of footsteps drawing closer, were approaching from the opposite end of the hallway. A thin shadow darkened the polished wooden floors. Ian. I tore open the door and practically dove into my seat.

The entire class turned to gawk at me and Mrs. Gilbert stopped mid-sentence. "You're late, Ms. Wells. Where were you? Do you have a slip?"

I was never a good liar; my face always gave me away. "My locker jammed," I said, with a wispy voice.

"Okay," she seemed a tiny bit annoyed, but thankfully didn't pursue the need for a late slip. "We're on page 159 in your workbook," she said. "Catch up."

Relief washed over me. I exhaled a long breath and settled into my seat. Gabby had been watching me closely. "Locker trouble?" she whispered, raising one eyebrow. "Really?"

"I'll tell you later," I whispered. Why did I say that? I didn't want to explain anything.

When I sat down at our lunch table, my eyes met Gabby's. "Okay give? Why were you late for class?" she demanded. Some best friend she was, forcing me to tell all in front of Jake.

All eyes turned suspiciously in my direction. I gulped hard, shifting nervously in my seat. "It was nothing," I said, hoping that would suffice, even though it had been eating me up inside all morning. What did those goons want with me? What is Rick's part in all of this? Should I tell Jake? My practical side was in denial. I tend to overreact to everything. Perhaps it was nothing but I knew better. I knew he was involved in something way over his head. Rick was a confessed Satanist, and now I half wondered if Ian might somehow be connected with those parking lot goons. Only it had looked to me like Rick was being forced into doing something he didn't like or didn't want to do, and that something involved me.

Everyone was still gawking at me, waiting for me to answer Gabby's question. So I did what I always do, I casually changed the subject. "Hey, does anyone know how Joey's doing?"

"My dad called his dad," said Jake. "They said he's doing better." He shook his head and looked at me. "They think we saved his life."

"We almost ended it," I said.

Jake Frowned. "Exactly. I feel horrible."

"The police called my house Saturday morning," I said. "They found the black bear and they're going to put it down."

"Great," Jake dropped his head back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, "Now I'm responsible for the death of a bear!"

"You're not responsible," I whispered, "I am."

"When you think about it," said David, "it's Ian's fault that Joey got attacked."

"Speaking of being attacked," Gabby chimed in, "I just need to know if that demon will come after me again...I mean, I'm not like you guys... I'm a little scared."

"Don't worry," said Nate, "I'll protect you." He kissed her gently on her forehead.

"Demons generally prey on the weak," said Jake. "Now that you know they exist and you're friends with Slayers, I doubt they'll ever consider attacking you again."

"And I'll be there if they try," said Nate.

Gabby smiled. I started wondering, now that Gabby knew about demons, was she just hooking up with Nate for his protection, or was she really in love?

Joey sat quietly on the other side of the table with a bowl of soup and bottled water. He had returned to school today after being gone for almost three weeks. Jake had invited him to join us for lunch. He wasn't at all talkative, not like before the attack. I noticed part of a scar on his neck, the rest covered up under his red T-shirt. He was not wearing his glasses.

I shifted nervously in my seat rehearsing what I would say; glad you're okay Joey, we missed you. All my words sounded empty. I remembered the horrible things I had said to him. The guy hadn't deserved that kind of treatment. I was sure I could come up with something about how utterly remorseful I felt. Now, when I needed them the most, words failed me.

"This scar here," he said, jerking the neckline of his shirt down, "Is over ten inches long. The doctors said it missed my heart by a fraction of an inch. Here's the cool part. The venom in my wounds was unidentifiable. Freaky, right?"

"Totally," said Nate.

Everyone at the table, except me, seemed to be enjoying Joey's proud take on his injuries. I sat in guilty silence.

"Yeah, they say I'm lucky to be alive. My mom's, like, you're not going in the woods ever again. And forget ever hanging with your friends." He was mimicking her voice. "I told her, I'm not giving up my friends. She finally caved. I knew she would."

Nate lightly punched Joey in the arm. "Dude, you kicked butt. You're, like, my hero, you know."

Jake smiled. "So no more doctors?"

"Pretty much. I have to keep getting anti-venom shots. Man, I really hate them. They hurt...you know I can take it." He shrugged his shoulders. "I just figure they make me tougher."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. "I am so sorry," I blurted out.

Everyone turned. Joey's eyes met mine. "Why?" He frowned.

His question surprised me. I was not prepared with an answer, feeling so overwhelmed with guilt.

"Shonna, tell me you saw me cut that demon?" he said. "I wanted you to see me. I killed it with Jake's sword, do you know how great that felt? It was incredible, well, up until the moment that Dreader got me."

"You saved my life!" said Jake. "That vampire would have drained me."

"Dude, it was so much fun," said Joey smiling. "I can't wait to do it again, but, next time, I'll be using my own sword."

Everyone stared at Joey in stunned silence.

"You have your own armor?" Jake asked.

His smile went wide. "Ariel came to see me."

Nate, David, and Jake all whistled really loud and slapped Joey a high-five.

Joey's gaze faltered when his eyes met mine. "It's okay, isn't it, Shonna?" he muttered, his face mirroring my own anxiety.

My mouth opened...nothing came out. He was seriously asking my permission to be a Slayer? Just like that, I knew what I wanted to say. "Um...Joey, you're the bravest person I know. You took on a demon without armor, training, or your own weapon. No demon from the Labyrinth should ever think about messing with you. Not unless he's insane. Seriously Joey, I can't wait to fight with you."

His lips widened into a big smile. "I'm not a Bleater anymore? I'm one of the Warriors?" he raised his arms in triumph.

"Oh yeah, definitely, Bro!" said Nate, slapping him another high five.

Now we were five, five against thousands of evil denizens from the Labyrinth.

A blue fog almost seemed to set without moving on the grass and bushes in the cold, damp night air. The toes of my sneakers leaned up against the granite of Binco's grave, as I stood spellbound, captured by the green light. My fingers touched the luminous glow and I watched as my skin turned sparkly green. Suddenly, like a vacuum, I was forcibly sucked into the void of darkness, my hand still out in front of me; my mind in a noiseless fog of confusion.

I didn't remember landing. Yet, I must have, because I stood inside the throne room in the labyrinth of Hell. Dad stood a few yards in front of me. Daddy! His gentle eyes filled with concern at seeing me there. I wanted to run to him. I could not move. My voice sounded muffled and distorted in my own ears, as if I were inside a glass bubble.

Ian Corbet held a knife to my father's chest. They were arguing, I had no idea what they were saying. Ian raised the knife. Daddy didn't move. My breathing grew ragged because I knew the truth; I knew that Ian's knife was meant for my torture.

Dad's eyes locked onto my face. His lips were speaking. I wanted to hear him. I needed to know what he was saying. Then I heard a small voice inside my head. I love you Bee.

Ian thrust the blade into dad's heart, while the words kept echoing, I love you. Dad fell down dead while his lips repeated I love you Bee.

I screamed. Mine were silent screams.

Ian's repugnant eyes turned toward me, the blood-covered knife still in his hand. He spoke, but I did not comprehend.

My feet took a few steps back. I turned once and bolted into the dark abyss...a pointless attempt to flee, because there just was no escaping him. I felt the knife slicing into my chest. My body went heavy, and weakness melted me like butter. All sound returned; music played from far off, an eerie arrangement of violins.

When my back struck the ground, blood spurted from my chest. As my vision faded, I stared up at Ian Corbet's face. Death's north wind came howling, howling... my bones took flight on the delicate tips of white spirit wings.

I awoke in a cold sweat, gasping. I needed air. I had too much air. My body trembled. Chills raced through me. In a loathsome, self-deprecating way, I tortured myself, by replaying the images over and over in my mind.

Is this prophecy? I seemed to be the tormented victim here, and if this were some authentic foresight into the future, why was dad in it? No. This dream had nothing in common with my true prophetic visions.

Still, I couldn't help wondering. Could this dream be preparing me for my own untimely death? I shuddered at the thought.

* * *

Chapter 21

As I chewed on my bottom lip, my stomach contracted into a tight ball at the idea of talking with mom. I should be happy not nervous; this was the opportunity I had been waiting for, to expose Ian.

Everything was aligning perfectly. Ian had to attend a mandatory school board meeting. Aunt Linda and Peter were shopping at the mall. Tonight, I finally had mom all to myself.

It was almost strange being alone with her. After all, it had been well over eight weeks, and yet it felt just like old times again, and I wanted it to stay this way forever.

We had finished eating pizza. I sighed deeply as I tossed the box in the trash. Mom had been talking about Ian. I hadn't been able to get a word in. I glanced at the clock. Time seemed to be getting away from me too quickly.

"Oh, Bee, this was such a good idea, I miss our fun nights together," said mom. "Let's order a movie." She reached for her tablet. "What's out that we haven't seen yet?"

"Mom, wait, I have something I need to show you." I pulled the yellow folder from my bag. "It's about Ian."

Mom's smile faded, "I already know you don't like him. I'm sure you have your reasons..." She stopped.

I studied her face, not understanding why she didn't finish her sentence.

Her shoulders dropped. "I don't want to fight anymore."

I was feeling the same way. Maybe my news could wait for another time...right? A warning flashed inside me. Do not put it off!

I started with dad, telling her about his secret life. Apparently hadn't been a secret to her, just me. "I can't believe you'd ever want to follow in his footsteps... look what happened to him."

"All this time you lied to me. Dad didn't have a heart attack," I said. "Why did you lie?"

"How could I tell you what really happened? You were only eleven; you wouldn't have understood."

"You've had almost six years to tell me the truth, mom... six years!"

"I'm sorry," she said. "So this is what you wanted to talk about?"

"No," I said. I unfolded the newspaper article about Mr. Binco, and handed it to her.

I watched, waiting for a reaction.

"I don't understand," she frowned. "This article is from 1942, but that's Ian? Is this some kind of trick?"

"No, mom. This is a copy of a news article we got in the genealogy room at the library."

"Who is this Mr. Binco? A relative of Ian's?"

"Will you please just listen to what I have to say?"

She nodded.

I told her everything I knew of Ian and followed up with my dreams. Mom frowned, sitting quietly, digesting everything. "I know about dreams," she finally said, handing me back the photo. "After your father died I had some horrid nightmares. Dr. Cone said that PTSNs, Post-Traumatic Stress Nightmares are caused by a response to real-life trauma. We can suffer from them when we refuse to accept major life changes. That makes perfect sense, Shonna. You refuse to accept Ian as my fiancé and perhaps the thought of him as your new father is just too traumatic for you, but they're dreams Shonna, just dreams, nothing more."

"What about the photo? It's proof that Ian is a Familiar Spirit," I said.

"Oh, honey, this could be his grandfather, or like they say, everyone has a double somewhere in the world at sometime or another. If this were Ian in the photo, he would be well over a hundred years old. Can't you see, you are so bent on breaking us up; you're inventing this stuff. Like I told your father, there's no such thing as spirits taking on human form."

"They exist, mom. Just because you don't believe, or don't want to believe, doesn't mean it's not true."

"Now you sound just like your father. He used to say the same things."

"Mom, Ian wants to kill me! He's probably going to kill you, too!"

Mom's cell phone rang and she jumped. "Shonna, I wish you would stop saying these things. You're making me nervous." She fished her phone out of her briefcase.

I overheard some of the conversation. It was Ian, checking up on her, probably making sure I hadn't completely poisoned her mind.

I could not understand why she refused to see the truth. Love really was visionless, or maybe, Ian's evil devices were controlling her mind as well.

"Peter is like me, too," I said, when mom placed her cell on the table. "You can ask him, he'll tell you."

"Peter likes you so much, he'd agree with anything you say."

I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling. Help me!

"You know," said mom. "It's two weeks and five days until my wedding. You still haven't picked out a dress, and you're my Maid of Honor."

"I don't want any part of your wedding." That came out a little too harsh.

She looked stunned. "You promised me!"

"Only if you waited to get married and you won't wait, will you?"

She didn't answer.

"That freak is controlling you. Can't you see it? What are you wearing, mom?"

She looked down at herself. I could read it on her face, she hated the way she was dressed, but she would not admit it.

"Wake up mom! He's dressing you, picking out your food, and he doesn't even let you drive anymore. He is running your life. He is going to crush you. All he wants is your death and mine. He's a monster!"

"You just don't understand Ian the way I do." Her face turned red. "I'm not going to talk about this anymore."

"Fine...you're on your own," I sneered. Flames of anger flared up. I didn't even try to fight to control it. "Find another Maid of Honor."

"Ian really likes you, Shonna. Why do you think he took that job at the high school? To help you. He plans on sending you to college. Did you know that? Wherever you want, Harvard or Yale, anywhere and yet you call him a monster. Who are you? I don't think I know you anymore." Her voice on the verge of tears, "Ian is the man I'm going to marry and you're just going to have to deal with it...or move out!"

I had an overwhelming urge to lash out. "Fine. I'll move to New Hampshire and live with Aunt Linda."

Her face twisted in rage. "YOU JUST DO THAT!"

"I WILL!" I started to storm off, but stopped and turned. "You never listen to me anymore, mom. Nothing I say. And it's always the same old story. You're so desperate for love you keep bringing home these loser guys. You just haven't got a clue and you never will."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Yeah, yeah I am! Ian is a monster and you can't see the truth staring you right in the face."

"Listen to me, Shonna if you don't like my choice of men, you can just leave!"

"Gladly!"

I stormed off, slamming the front door. I stepped into the cold night air. A gust of strong wind sent dry leaves twisting, soaring in flight, and my hair lashed my face as I walked. At first, I marched in a blind rage having no idea where I was headed. The more I thought about her hurtful words the more I wanted to cry. I stopped walking suddenly and just started whimpering uncontrollably.

I clenched my teeth and forced myself to pull it together. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and thought about my dad. I could go to the cemetery; perhaps sleep on his grave. That was always comforting. I pulled my hood up; it was cold and not very good for camping outside. Instead, I turned and headed for Gabby's house. I realized I had left my cell phone in my bag, in my bedroom... not cool!

As I walked every so often an arctic blast hit me, and I shuddered all over. The streets were empty, most of the houses dark, looking deserted. The neighborhood seemed almost eerily quiet. I had an uncomfortable feeling of eyes watching me from the shadows or bushes. I shook it off and kept walking.

More than anything, I wanted a shoulder to cry on. Why did Jake have to play sports all the time? I growled in frustration. I needed a sympathetic ear. I really wanted to rant about my mother. I thought of Peter, shopping at the mall. Seriously? Why? My only hope...Gabby. She'd better be home!

When I turned the corner onto Maple, my pace slowed. The street was blanketed in heavy darkness; it felt as if I were literally entering a tunnel. Haven't these people ever heard of street lamps? More than once I lost my footing on loose pavement.

I heard a rumbling noise growing louder.

A motorcycle.

My eyes squinted at the figure slowing down, pulling over to the curb, on a Harley... Rick?

"Do you need a ride?"

I eyed him with apprehension. At school he treated me like I had some new brand of disease. Now he was acting all sweet. "What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"On my way home. I saw you walking." He gave me a fleeting smile. "Hey," he said, "I know I was a jerk. I'm sorry. I was having a bad day."

He wore leather, along with an innocent expression on his face, quite well. I wanted to be sweet, in spite of how he had treated me. I eased closer, then had a sudden flashback of that conversation I'd overheard with Pentagram guy. I debated on how to confront Rick, without actually giving away the fact that I had been spying on him. "A bad day, huh?"

"Come on, let me give you a ride," he said with an imploring half smile.

It was nearly thirty degrees and I had left the house without a jacket. I didn't want to walk another twenty minutes to my best friend's house in the cold. I shivered and pulled my hoody tightly across my chest.

"Look at you, you're freezing," he said, slipping off his leather jacket. He wrapped it around me, cradling me in his body warmth. I inhaled his sweet honey smell. "I'm on my way to Gabby's."

Rick got on his bike and started the engine. Without thinking it through, I hopped on the back, and fastened the helmet to my head. Rick took off fast. I hadn't told him where Gabby lived. He did a U-turn and he headed back. Where is he going? I tried to yell and get his attention. He didn't hear me.

Five minutes later, we were on Pine Street pulling into the driveway of an old Victorian house badly in need of some repair. A few lights from the downstairs windows brightened the place just a little.

"Where are we?" I asked, trying to fix my helmet hair.

"My place," he said. "Come on." He took my hand and walked me toward the front door. A dog barked loudly from somewhere inside. An eerie feeling clawed at my stomach. I froze.

"I can't go in there."

Rick glanced at the door and back at me. "The dog's not going to hurt you."

"I was on my way to Gabby's. She's expecting me," I lied, only as a way of saving myself from whatever evil lurked behind those old doors.

"Really?" he said, with a hint of doubt. He knew I lied, but how?

"What's going on here, Rick?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you show up out of nowhere...and take me to your house. Was this planned?"

He shook his head.

I turned to leave. I wasn't sure how I would find Gabby's house. I'd walk all night if I had to.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Gabby's!"

"Okay," he said. "Just stop."

In spite of the cold, my face was getting hot with anger. I turned, waiting for his explanation.

"I went by your house," he said. "Your mom told me about the fight. She said you walked out. I was concerned, so I went looking for you. I thought maybe you needed a place to crash...to cool off."

"You want me to stay with you?" I asked. "Here?"

"Yeah."

I turned to leave again.

"In my aunt's room," he yelled.

Again, I hesitated, mostly because I was freezing and I liked my toes and fingers and I sure didn't want to lose them to frostbite. Besides I badly needed to talk to someone, anyone. Rick Steel? I groaned. I guessed, at this point, he would do. Yeah, but what would Jake say if he knew I had spent the night here? This just wasn't happening.

"Can I use your phone to call Gabby?"

"Sure," he smiled, reaching out for my hand. I walked past him without taking it. He opened two very heavy, old double doors with aged yellowed lace curtains. We stepped into a drab green-carpeted foyer. He turned around and locked the door in three places behind us, then pulled down some dirty, brittle shades.

Locked in? I bit my lip. Just get to the phone and get out of here.

A large, yellow lab came barreling down the wide hallway, insanely barking. Rick seized him by the collar and led him off into the darkness. I heard him mumbling as a door opened, then shut.

I glanced around and a shiver ran through me. On top of the uncomfortable feeling of standing in a stranger's house late at night, a nagging fear squirmed inside of me... something is really wrong with this place...really wrong. Everything was screaming,

Get out!

A large set of stairs loomed on the left side of the hallway. At one time this place might've been beautiful. It had hidden charms like crown molding and hardwood floors. The aged, rose-colored dingy, floral wallpaper hung shredded, exposing a variety of colors underneath. On my right a closed vintage door...painted flat black, had silver letters, SLS, professionally painted on it. What does SLS mean?

A loud, ticking clock came from the room directly opposite. The door was partway open. Rick motioned for me to follow him into that room.

It smelt like wet clothes and cigarettes. Another odor hung thick in the room that I couldn't identify. Piles of laundry, books, papers, and junk were thrown everywhere, which made it difficult to walk without hearing a crunching sound beneath my feet.

He handed me the phone, while emptying a wooden chair of magazines and newspapers. I sat down and dialed Gabby's cell. As it rang Rick paced nervously in front of me. After ten rings, I glanced at my watch, 11:30 p.m. I hung up. Rick must have seen the disappointment on my face because he squatted down next to my chair. "It's okay." He whispered softly. "You want a cup of tea?"

"Sure," I said. Rick Steel drinks tea?

I followed him into another messy room... a kitchen. I knew that because it had a stove, which seemed to be the only surface not covered in junk.

Rick cleared a spot for us to sit and put a kettle on a burner. He placed two mugs next to the stove. I was thinking that I should be sleeping in my own bed right now. Everything was so wrong. What does it matter where I slept tonight? Mom doesn't care.

"Where are your aunt and uncle?" I asked.

"Working," said Rick.

"Isn't the restaurant closed by now?"

"They do a lot of extra work before they come home."

"So you're all alone?" I asked, feeling my heart flutter in my chest.

"No," said Rick, "the dog's here."

"I can't stay," I stood up. "I should leave, walk home."

He leaned in close, his lips parted, his eyes focused on my mouth. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered in that spider-to-the-fly voice.

A high-pitched whistle gave me a start. Rick grinned and smoothly moved to turn off the noisy kettle, and with his back to me, he filled the cups. I heard a spoon stirring something...sugar, maybe cream?

"You don't trust me?" he said.

I took a deep breath and sat back down on the uncomfortable chair. "I keep thinking about..."

"Jake," He finished my sentence.

"No," I said. "My mom,"

I reached for the cup. Rick hesitated, holding it away from me, his eyes shifting toward the hallway. I was puzzled by his anxious expression and could not figure out why he had hesitated.

My tea smelled like Earl Gray. When he finally let go of my cup, I took a big sip and eased my back into the chair. The sweet honey taste reminded me of Christmas, but what was that other flavor? A wave of fatigue rolled over me, and I felt very tired; the stress of the day suddenly catching up with me.

We talked for a while as I drank. From beneath my lashes, I noticed Rick studying me intently. "You okay?" he kept asking.

"Just sleepy," I said. The warmth of the tea melted though my skin into my nervous system. I went limp. My head floated in a dreamy state. I really wanted to close my eyes, so I did.

Something was ringing. I lifted my heavy eyelids to see Rick scurrying from the room to answer...a phone? I noticed his cell phone was sitting right next to me. Weird...

I downed more tea, hoping it would do its magic and I'd feel better. Something was wrong. Why are my hands and legs numb? And why is my head so foggy?

There was knocking somewhere... frantic knocking on a door...the front door.

It felt like an eternity before Rick came rushing back into the room.

"Don't drink that!" he yelled.

Too late, I had already finished it. He wrenched the mug from my fingers and tossed it in the sink. It smashed into shards and pieces.

"Gabby called. You are going to her house...come on. We need to get out of here...right now!"

What's the big hurry?

Knocking. Getting louder. He dragged me to my feet. I had lost command of my senses. Strangers had entered my brain and taken control. I really wanted to talk. The desire was so strong to confess everything I'd ever done or wanted to do.

"Am I drunk?" I asked, my own voice sounding strange in my ears.

"You're drugged," he said, "They made me do it. You have got to believe me. I didn't want to."

What is he saying? He did not want to... I couldn't put it together, meaningless words drifting inside my brain.

Still more pounding or knocking, was it a door or inside my head? Rick lifted me into his arms and carried me outside. The cold rush of night air touched my skin. Glass shattered someplace and someone started cussing and yelling.

"LET US IN, YOU MOTHER-"

We moved past bushes in the dark shadow of the driveway. He pulled me onto the Harley. He was strong.

"Listen," his lips brushed my cheek. A shudder ran through my body. I wanted to kiss him, and I tried, but he pushed me away and spoke loudly in my ear. "Try... to... hang... on!" His voice resonated inside my foggy head. "What did I just say?"

"Hang... on," I repeated, pronouncing each word slowly.

He started the engine not revving it. He wrapped my arms around his chest and my head lay on his back. Above the sputtering exhaust pipe, I could hear voices calling.

"STEEL. We know you have her. Come on, man, UNLOCK THE DOOR!"

We pulled past the house. Nothing made sense...dark figures on the porch, smashed windows, jerking at doorknobs, now running toward us. We had wings, with giant feathers. We soared past the dark figures, escaping like a phoenix into the shadows of night.

"YOU'RE GONNA DIE, STEEL!" Those words filled my brain like a puzzle.

We flew; wind tangling my hair...and my hands let go. How do I hang on? Think. Somehow, try. Then I passed out.

A hand lightly slapped my face. Rick's voice was yelling somewhere off in the distance. "Wake up!" I saw pieces of things, like his leather jacket on my arm, and a decorative lantern hanging over a door and Gabby. Gabby!

I felt Rick's breath on my face again, sadness in his voice. "You're safe now."

Why is he sad? What is wrong with my mouth? "I don't- like you," I said. "I... I...do- you're, and I'm..." What am I trying to say? Arms were carrying me. Then everything went black.

* * *

Chapter 22

Morning sunshine streamed in through white floral lilac curtains. Not my curtains. I sat up, feeling my brain spin one full revolution. I let my head slip to one side, believing it must weigh a ton. I clutched at my throat. It was raw, feeling like I had just swallowed a steel spiked wrecking ball. I desperately needed a drink.

My blurry eyes traveled over the purple walls, band posters, and white modern furniture. Then I knew where I was.

"Hey," said Gabby, "You okay?" Her hair was piled up on her head with a large blue clip. She wore soft blue pajama pants and white Ugg boots that matched her tee shirt. She dropped down on the edge of the bed. Of course, I was in her bedroom. My memory slowly returned, but too many important pieces were still missing.

"What happened last night?" asked Gabby. "You were really drunk."

More like drugged. I was disturbed by my desire for more of the drug. What is wrong with me? It had to be very addictive to have this kind of effect on me.

Gabby looked at me with that mischievous grin on her face, analyzing my misconduct with playful amusement. "Soooo...you and Rick huh? Shocker! Who knew?"

"He gave me a ride, that's all." I think.

"Puh-lease!" Gabby eyes slid sideways

"It's the truth." I hated it when she suspected the worst.

"When I went to answer the door and saw you in his arms, I thought you were dying," she said, "not drunk. You never do anything like this...ever."

My trembling fingers grabbed her arm. "What did I say? Did I do anything stupid?"

"You can't remember?" She giggled. "This is going to be fun."

"Come-on Gabby, I'm serious. Tell me everything?"

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "You said some funny things. What did you drink, anyway?"

"Tea," I said truthfully.

"Tea? Spiked with...?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I wish I did."

"Steel kept saying, 'Sorry.' What's up with that? Is he afraid of what Jake might do to him when he finds out he gave you drugs?"

My heartbeat spiked suddenly. "How is he going to find out?" I asked.

"Exactly," said Gabby, vaguely shaking her head, smiling, pretending to lock her mouth and throw away the key.

"What else did Rick say?"

She thought for a moment. "Um...oh yeah, he said he was going away and that he'd leave a message for you. And, I am to tell you not to take any long walks by yourself at night. Oh yeah, I almost forgot," she added, brightly. "Your mom called last night, right after you got here. Relax. You are so lucky I am your best friend. I told her you'd been here a while and you were sleeping."

That reminded me of the fight we had, and my chest pain returned with a vengeance. "I need to go home," I said.

"Uh, sure. I can drive you," she offered.

What a relief not to have to walk six blocks, especially with the shape my body was in. When I got home, the house was empty, no note, no cousins, and no mom. I phoned the real estate office and spoke with her partner, Rick Azeri. He told me mom was with Aunt Linda, and promised to give her my message.

My head was still floating even after taking a hot shower and eating some cold cereal. I startled when the doorbell rang.

"Don't you ever answer your cell?" asked Jake. The moment I opened the door he followed me back to my green chair and bowl of cereal in the living room. "I called and sent you texts. Your mom said you had had a fight. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to remember where I had left my phone.

"What happened?"

I stood up and nervously started pacing. "Mom didn't buy it." The words just tumbled out of me like a waterfall. "Everything went horribly wrong. This has to be the worst night of my life. She would not believe me, Jake ...even after I showed her Ian's photo. How can she be so blind? I even told her about my dreams, seeing Ian commit murder. I can't understand how...ah...gullible she is. You know what she said? She said it was the result of some kind of medical condition, due to stress. I was so mad. I ran, Jake. I ran out of the house. Ugh! A stupid, stupid, stupid fight, that stupid dark street, stupid Rick Steel, stupid drugs messed up my head..." Immediately, I realized I had gone too far. I had said too much.

"Rick Steel? You went with him last night instead of calling me?"

I was instantly nervous at the sudden intensity of Jake's anger. His eyes narrowed. I had never seen him look this way, as if he wanted to kill, me...Rick.

"Um...yeah- he picked me up on his bike. I didn't call you cause you had a game. Look Jake, it's not what you think. Rick just happened to show up, that's all. I wasn't enjoying myself, if that's what you think, unless you consider being drugged and dropped off at Gabby's front door a fun night."

"No, you didn't just say that." He shook his head. "Steel gave you drugs?"

I glanced down at the carpet. "Yes."

He walked away, and then turned, his eyes narrowing. "What's wrong with you Shonna? You do not know anything about this guy. You could have been killed. I warned you, didn't I? And you just go off with him..."

"He's not as bad as you think."

"You're defending the guy who could have killed you last night?"

"He wouldn't hurt me... not intentionally."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

It was a good question, a valid question. I had a good answer. My mouth started to say what my heart knew I should confess, because I wanted to purge myself of all the mistakes I had made, to be free from this weight of guilt on my shoulders. "We went out... once."

"What? You had a date with that...creep?" said Jake.

"Yes, but it wasn't my idea."

"Yeah, so? You did not have to go along with it, did you? And when were you going to tell me about this?"

"I..."

"Don't bother explaining. I get it." He stormed out.

The front door slammed and darkness swallowed me up. The tears came hot, racing down my cheek. I sank to my knees, the world around me dissolving in a blur of endless pain, and I deserved every bit of it. Everything he said was true. I had gone along with it, maybe even encouraged it, ultimately manifesting some hidden desire to be with Rick Steel.

The hurt look on Jake's face filled me with physical pain, crushing me. I had lost Jake. I had lost control of my life again. Worst of all, nothing had changed. I was no closer to ending Ian's life and he was still with mom. Oh mom, where are you? It came thundering back to me, the fight... the angry words. How could I have lost my head and said those horrid things?

Yesher! Help!

The realization came to me, as radiant as a beam of light flooding my gloomy soul. Now I understood what Ariel meant by letting go. I had to forgive my dad for leaving. I'd heard it over and over again, Let go. It wasn't that easy. Sure, say some words, but what do they really mean if I don't actually feel them or believe them? The knife slipped a little deeper into the hole in my heart.

I waited all day, but mom never returned home. Most likely she'd turned off her cell...punishing me, so I stopped calling and texting.

The empty house grew cold now that the sky had plunged into a pearly gray, moving swiftly toward the inevitable early nightfall and shortness of winter days. I grew increasingly exhausted and tired of pacing the floor waiting for her. It was a fitting end to the horrible events of the past twenty-four hours. I dragged myself upstairs and listened for the front door to open. I climbed under the covers and grabbed a book from the nightstand. I cozied myself in the warmth of my blankets. My eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Do not close your eyes, I warned myself. Stay awake!

Finally, I heard mom in the kitchen having an argument with Ian. I must have dozed off. I hadn't heard them come in. I got out of bed and opened the door so I could eavesdrop. Instantly, I found myself standing in front of the stove. How did I get here so fast?

"I think I know my own daughter better than you do," said mom, standing by the kitchen table, and her voice on the verge of tears. "Shonna would never lie to me."

"You believe whatever you like," snapped Ian, leaning confidently against the kitchen counter, his arms folded in front of him. "She plays you for a fool."

I did not care what Ian said about me. I moved toward mom, desperate to apologize, because it was eating me up inside. "Mom, I'm so sorry for how I acted and what I said." She didn't even look at me, somehow I'd become invisible.

"You are right, Ian. I am such a fool," she said. "I don't know why I didn't I see it before. Shonna tried to warn me, more than once. I thought she was just upset thinking I was trying to replace her father with you."

"Listen, sweetheart, you've got to know the truth. That kid of yours is a real problem. When she's away from her mommy, she is not the perfect angel you think she is. You wouldn't believe the things she's done, but together you and I can do something about her." He leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter. "We can put her in reform school. They always help young people find their way. They would help her. Trust me. Let me work it all out. You wouldn't have to do a thing."

"Don't trust him. For crying out loud, mom, look at me! Please just tell me you forgive me. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be your Maid of Honor, I promise." I touched her arm. "Mom, you're trembling." Her face scrunched up, frowning as her eyes traveled slowly down to my fingers that were holding her elbow.

"I'll tell you this right now," said Ian, "If it weren't for our relationship, I would have..."

"What?" Mom snapped, her eyes blazing at Ian.

"Never mind. Terry, can't you see? She is making our life together miserable? We wouldn't even be fighting right now if it weren't for her."

"Ian, Shonna hasn't done anything wrong, but I think you have. Can you please explain something to me? She showed me a photo of you; only your real name isn't Ian Corbet, is it? You want to tell me who you really are, Mr. Binco?"

Ian gave a sideways smirk and nodded. "Now why should I bother doing that?" His voice became monotone, lifeless, as the demon inside him took over. "I'd love to say it's been fun Terry," He drew himself up tall, his eyes scanning the block of knives. "The truth is, I find killing pathetic humans a lot more entertaining than playing these useless games." His chin jutted out and He gave mom a knowing grin. "Every time I got close to you, all I wanted to do was rip out your eyes, tear you into little pieces, and watch your lifeblood drain out while you struggled to breathe your last breath."

Mom gasped. Her hand shot up to her mouth.

"You see, Terry, my plan was to kill you both in front of all our guests, right after we said our vows. That's really more my style. Sure, I could kill you in private, I've done it before and I can do it again, like right now for instance, but don't you agree that it would be much more dramatic with a large audience."

"You're insane," said mom.

"Not completely," said Ian smiling, moving closer to the knives. "You know, Terry, you really should believe your daughter when she warns you about someone like me. Thanks to you, Shonna didn't try to kill me that first night." He half chuckled. "It was a brilliant idea. Now there will be a slight change. Not a problem really and truthfully, this will work out even better, for me."

"Please don't hurt Shonna!" begged mom.

"Oh, how touching," said Ian, with a condescending grin, "Your darling daughter. Come on, Terry. Are you really that naive?" He began to pull each knife from the block, laying them out side by side and studying them as he spoke. "You have no idea what I'm capable of doing, do you? For over two thousand years, I have worn the flesh of spineless, pathetic mortals. I have slaughtered nations, entombed world leaders, assassinated presidents. I am a skilled murderer. That's who I am. That's what I do."

Mom's face turned ashen, white with horror. Ian gave a snigger. I ignored Ian and he seemed to ignore me. I yanked on mom's arm, intent on pulling her away, but she just would not budge. Why?

Ian chose the knife with the longest blade and tested its sharpness on the kitchen towel, which fell in two pieces on the floor.

I tried to shift into my armor, come on, come on, come on! I glanced down at my pajamas. Something is wrong. Why can't I shift? Terror filled me. I cannot save her. She just stood frozen, tense, her eyes did not blink, and her gaze never left Ian.

I screamed at her, "RUN, MOM, RUN!"

She must have heard me because she started toward the front door. Unexpectedly, she stopped when we got into the hallway and glanced upstairs toward my bedroom.

"You can't outrun me, Terry. I am spirit; you're just a human. If I want you dead, it won't take me long."

"Oh God, please mom, listen to me! "Get out NOW!" Again, I pulled at her arm to drag her toward the front door, but she froze looking up the stairs as if she had left something valuable in my bedroom.

"Mom, he'll kill you. I need you to run away. Find Aunt Linda!"

She slowly picked up her keys. Ian stepped into the hallway. She drew back from him, turned and bolted, but only made it to the door.

Ian was instantly in front of her, blocking her escape.

She turned to run the other way, he caught her arm, yanking her around to face him. He cursed, grunted and backhanded her across the face twice. She cried out in pain. I moved in between them trying to hit him, trying to stop him.

He raised the knife.

I reached for the hilt.

The knife came down.

Ian stabbed.

Blood.

Mom screamed.

The scene dissolved before my eyes.

* * *

Chapter 23

The arid hot sun on my head added to the fun, as I cut a path through the ocean of tall, yellow grass, hearing my name, Shoooonnna! I was five again, giggling from the thrill of the game...running away from my mother.

In the shadow of the tall trees, my eyes caught sight of him. A fancy harlequin man holding a cute monkey, dressed in a bright green-striped vest, colorful red jacket, and elegant silk top hat over his thick, blond hair. I slowed to a stop, fascinated by the dancing monkey. A minute later, I regretted staring, because it was not a monkey at all. It had changed into a hideous, hairless creature with pointed ears, sharp, long fangs, and silver claws. The man began to morph, also. I glimpsed fur and teeth. He whispered to me. I screamed, turned, and crashed headlong into mom's blue skirt. I glanced back in fear. They had vanished. I will never forget his words...ever. They have haunted me all these years. "When you're not looking, Little Bee, I shall kill both your mommy and daddy."

My legs kicked my blankets off in a wild frenzy. I scrambled out of bed. Mom's screams ringing fresh inside my head. I tore open the bedroom door, knowing I had just had another prophetic dream. Fear raked at my insides, like an animal clawing to escape. I was weak, yet strong with rage. The rage was good because it kept me moving.

The lights were on in the kitchen, and the front door was wide open.

"Mom" I yelled, in the hallway, kitchen, and outside into the darkness. "MOM!" My voice cracked. "Where are you?" A sinking deserted feeling consumed me with panic. I was all alone, utterly and completely alone, my family taken, as promised by the evil Harlequin man.

Then I saw the blood, mom's blood, sprayed across the walls of the entryway, on the rug, even on the ceiling. I swayed dizzy with fear. Frantically I reached for my cell and dialed Jake, before collapsing on the floor, weeping.

There are things you learn about yourself, when you think you're losing your mind. Fear and remorse seem to hang close to the surface, but I no longer fought to push them down. You hear things, too, like the Harlequin man laughing and a distant voice calling. I had no strength or desire to answer.

Suddenly Jake's strong arms folded around me. He held me tight against the hardness of his chest. My hand grabbed onto his shirt and I sobbed. After a while, I forced myself to let go of the material as he gently placed me onto a chair.

I couldn't just sit and do nothing. I had to get my mother back. I was on my feet searching with blurry eyes for the keys to the Jeep.

Jake frowned, hovering close. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to the cemetery," I said between sobs. "I'm going to kill Ian and get my mother back."

"No!" He snatched the keys from my hand. "I'm not going to let you go off and kill yourself. I'll work out a plan. We'll get her back I promise. Just trust me, please! Will you trust me?

The tears started again as I collapsed in his arms. "Yes." I whispered, "I trust you Jake."

Very, very slowly the tears had stopped, and a dull numbness settled over me. I heard Jake talking to someone official. I wasn't sure I could trust my ears.

"Did you see what happened?" A police officer was asking. My eyes met his gaze, and I realized he had spoken to me and wanted answers.

"I...I...was sleeping," I said. Really, wasn't I watching Ian stab my mom? I tried to say nothing, because every word felt like a lie. I shifted to sit up straighter. "I came downstairs and found..." As I pointed to the blood, the rest of my words dissolved into tears.

Men in white lab coats were busy taking blood samples from the carpet. A gloved hand placed a business card on the table next to me. I stared at the card never really reading it.

I don't remember the police leaving the house. I don't even remember Jake carrying me upstairs and putting me in bed, until I noticed him hovering. "Don't leave!" I whispered, begged, actually.

"I'm not going anywhere." He kicked off his shoes and lay next to me on top of my blanket, wrapping his arms around me.

It must have been sometime in the early hours that I dozed off and my dreams were filled with painful, upsetting images. Only the warmth of Jake's body kept me rational.

I woke up again, wide-eyed in the darkness, listening to the rhythm of Jake's breathing next to me, knowing he was also awake.

"Do you think he killed her?"

"No," he said, his voice thick sounding, "He wants you to come after her."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We know what they're like, you and I, " said Jake. "They play games; mess with your head, Belial wants you. Your mother is the bait. It's that simple."

"I said some hateful things to her. If she dies before I have a chance to...I cannot live, Jake, not with all this guilt. I fought the tears that threatened to fall again.

Jake's fingers brushed strains of my tangled, wet hair from my face. "You're much stronger than you think." He kissed my forehead. "Go to sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

I cuddled myself down on the pillow, pulling the blankets up to my neck and lay there for a moment thinking of Rick. I wanted to fix things, but I didn't know how.

"Jake?" I said softly.

"What?"

"About Rick... I know I did the wrong thing. I never meant to hurt you."

"Let's talk about that later, okay? Just sleep for now."

For one fraction of a second when I opened my eyes, I'd forgotten the horrible events that had happened only a few short hours ago. The merciless pain in my chest returned, heavy with sadness. I could barely breathe it hurt so badly.

I tried not to think about what he might have done to her. I would not allow my thoughts to take me to those dark places, or else I'd go completely mad. I was relying on Jake to keep me stable. I heard him lightly snoring next to me. I needed a shower. Careful not to disturb him, I slipped out from under the blankets, grabbed clean clothes, and moved stealthily into the bathroom and into the hot running water.

So many regrets came crashing down; mistakes and missed opportunities. Why hadn't I killed Ian when I had the chance? Sure, evil forces were keeping him from my sword. I could have taken him out so many times. I mentally shook myself. It did no good to think this way. I needed to stay strong, because I had to save mom.

It's odd how doing simple every-day things seems so unimportant, almost ludicrous, yet we do them anyway. Like mom was always nagging me, after my shower, to make sure the soap dish was clean. I found the rag and cleaning fluid under the sink, and started to scrub the soap dish and shower tiles shined. I stood back, admired my work, and cried. I cried harder than yesterday. I tried to turn off my thoughts, control them, as Ariel would say. I took a deep breath and washed the tears away. There would be no more crying.

Jake was still lightly snoring as I headed downstairs, longing without real hope that Mom would be waiting. We would have coffee together. I could feel her presence, the heart of our home, deep down in my bones. Her having been taken away from me was just so wrong.

The house phone rang and rang as I hunted for it. Eventually I found the receiver tucked into the cushions of the sofa. "Hello," I said breathlessly.

"Ms. Wells? This is Police Detective Wood. We got the blood samples back from the crime lab." The phone started beeping in my ear because the battery was dying.

Jake came downstairs, carrying his Nikes in one hand, and smoothing back his hair with the other.

"You and your aunt need to come down to the station as soon as possible." Beep.

"Why?" my voice sounding strained. Beep. "Is it my mother's blood?"

"I can't tell you that," he said. Beep. "Is your aunt home with you?" Beep.

"No. She's not," I said. Beep. "She'll be back later." I wasn't really sure where aunt Linda was. In fact, I'd been wondering if they had gone home. I tried Peter's cell and sent him a text message. I didn't think he needed the phone. I was sure his gifts, had already sent the warning about mom and what I was suffering. Now I started to worry about Peter and Aunt Linda, had they been abducted too? Yet, I didn't tell this guy any of that.

Beep. "Ms. Wells tell your aunt to come down to the station..." Beep. "Ask for Detective Wood in Homicide."

The line went dead, as did the phone.

"Who was that?" Jake asked.

"The police. They want to talk with my aunt about mom; a complete waste of time. I know Ian took her and I'm going after him."

"You said you'd trust me," said Jake, putting on his Nikes. "Are you going to keep your word?"

I nodded, reluctantly.

"Good," said Jake. "I've an idea. Can I use your cell? Mine's at home."

We were wasting precious minutes. Yet, I didn't argue the point. Instead, I headed for the kitchen searching for my phone. A trace of mom's sweet, floral fragrance seemed to linger, next to her briefcase. The hole in my damaged heart opened a little wider. I eventually found my bag and phone on the hallway floor. I still had half a battery left. I tossed Jake my phone and sank down on the sofa, burying my face in my hands. Jake made several calls, speaking with Gauge, his father, and Nate Cross.

The doorbell rang.

I got up to answer it as Jake ended his last call.

"Wait a minute," he raised one hand to stop me. He peeked through the curtain then relaxed. "It's Peter."

I swung open the door and threw my arms around my cousin. "I'm so glad you're here, " I said. "Where have you been? When did you and your mom leave?"

"I would've been here sooner, but mom insisted I finish my work. I caught a ride from a neighbor. In answer to your first question, the night you had the fight with your mother, she told us she was upset and she'd decided to postpone the wedding and thought it best if we go home. I tried to talk her out of it. Mom really wanted to go, so we left the next morning. I was hoping I would see you, but you never came home. I was feeling all of this crazy emotional whirlwind from you. I begged mom to let me stay. To talk with you..." He stopped suddenly, noticing the bloody walls. "Aunt Terry?"

"He took her. I don't know if she is dead. I...I hope not. This is her blood; even if the police won't tell me, I know it is."

"Police? Why'd you call them?" asked Peter. "We know Ian took her."

"I had to call them," said Jake. "My dad's got a scanner. The neighbors called the police about a disturbance. If I hadn't called them, they might have suspected Shonna was guilty or hiding something."

"You do know that this is just to scare you," said Peter, waving his finger at the blood splattered wall.

"Well, it's working." I sank down on the sofa next to Jake.

"If only we knew exactly where he cut her," said Peter, measuring the blood on the wall with his finger, as if it were a ruler. "Small cuts on the forehead sometimes can produce a great deal of blood, especially if he slightly nicked an artery, in which case, it might only require a few stitches. Judging by the amount and velocity of the blood spurts, she was scared. Her heart was pumping fast. Look at this splatter. I would say this was planted here. She was not bleeding that bad. My guess is, she's alive." He pointed to a spot near the front door. "Look at the string pattern. He half-dragged her outside, but she was still on her feet."

I felt hope rise inside of me as I gawked at Peter. "Are you sure? How do you know all this stuff? Don't tell me home school."

Peter smiled. "I did reports on forensic science. I'm no crime lab chemist, but I'd sure like to be, someday, maybe. Look, the way I see it, it's all about drama. He's baiting you. He wants you to come after him."

"That's what I told her," Jake agreed.

I started feeling a little better. I was hoping my Genius cousin was right. He'd been right about so many other things. I wanted to believe him. I wanted mom to be alive.

"So then? What's our plan?" asked Peter.

"We need help. I'm rounding up Slayers," said Jake, "from our school and Pinehurst...everyone I know who carries a Sword."

"I have some friends too," said Peter sitting down in the green chair and leaning forward on his elbows. "They'll come. I can get loads of people."

"Good. We're going to need an army."

"Where do you think he took her?" Peter asked.

"The logical place is the cemetery. The portal into the Underworld Labyrinth."

"It makes sense," I said, catatonically. "Everything seems to return to the same place."

"We should meet in the woods, the later at night the better, so no chance of running into people. This time we come in from the other side. We might be able to surprise them. What do you guys think about baiting?" Jake asked. "We could use someone, maybe my friend Joey. We hide. Let them think he is alone. When they come out, we attack. The element of surprise would be on our side. We'll capture Ian and bargain for your mom."

"No. Not Joey. Anyone but him." I said.

"I'll do it," said Peter, standing up fast. "Make me the victim. It'll be great fun."

"Ian won't come out for anyone else but me. You both know that. You already said it, Jake. He wants me. I have to be the bait."

Jake dropped his eyes and turned his head. "You're the logical choice, but right now you're so... vulnerable." I could tell he had more to say but held it back.

"I can do this," I promised.

Jake reached for my hand, his warm fingers folding around mine, and yet he didn't look directly at me. "Timing is key. Ian's spies are good, and we haven't been able to fool them yet." He turned to look at me I saw the worry in his eyes. "You've got to convince them you're alone. I'm not sure this is going to work. We'll do everything we can to save your mom, together." He emphasized the last word. I knew he was fretting about me wondering if I would go rogue, taking on Ian alone. He was right to worry, because that was exactly what I planned to do.

* * *

Chapter 24

I didn't tell Jake or Peter about my latest dream where I died. If they knew, they would never let me be the bait. I did not want their protection. I had a plan...my own directive, I would save mom and put an end to Ian's murderous, rotten life forever. Besides, I wasn't even sure that dream qualified as prophetic. Dad being killed all over again? There definitely wasn't any chance of that happening again.

It was close to midnight when we met at the trailhead in the parking lot at the Nature Preserve. The moon's fullness was waning, and yet it fashioned some really long shadows between the tall structures of trees.

My mind kept flashing images of mom's dead body. I pushed them down, hardening myself to stay strong and focused on rescuing her alive. In spite of hearing repeatedly that Familiars are hard to kill, I wasn't worried at all about how I'd kill Ian. There would be a way and I was determined I'd find it.

Something stirred in the woods.

"It's Jake," Peter said. "With his army."

They appeared one by one, short and tall, girls, and boys, in full leather, holding swords, gathering in the darkness between the moonlit hazy trees, with a different kind of light...spiritual and powerful. I lost count at thirty, but there were more. I had no idea how Jake and Peter had pulled it off. It was amazing to see so many Slayers all in one place.

I felt empowered. Our group was a commanding and deadly force, armed with pneumatic Triune power. What evil power could ever stand against us?

The smile on my lips faded fast. Wasn't each of these Slayers someone's son or daughter? Any of them could die here tonight. They came because of me, willing to lay down their lives, and they didn't even know me. Another knife slid into my punished heart. I grabbed my chest. How can I risk their lives? No, I cannot let that happen.

Without Jake even realizing it, his plan was a perfect way for me to get down that hole, kill Ian, and save mom. Sure, I would probably die in the process, but I would take out Ian first. That was a promise I made to myself. Nobody else had to die.

I spied Gauge studying me, a puzzled expression on his face, as if he knew my plan. I quickly glanced away and stepped toward Jake, he had been talking with Nate. When he saw me, he sidled closer taking my hand. His warmth filled me with peace. I was grateful that he was with me.

Now I worried that this might be the last time I would feel his hand in mine, and that thought made me cold. I shivered and let go. No distractions. Stay focused.

A female scream distributed the quiet night. Mom! I started to bolt. Jake swung himself in front of me. His hand caught my arm and he drew me to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?"

"That was mom."

"He's playing with your fears!" said Jake. "They know we are here. I can feel it. He has an army ready to attack."

"Jake's right," said Peter. "We switch to plan B?'

They both nodded.

I struggled to free myself from Jake's grip. He was strong, really strong, and I was not going anywhere, yet.

Switching to Plan B meant Jake, Peter, and Nate charging the portal and the rest of us standing around playing a waiting game. That was not acceptable to me, because I needed to get into the Labyrinth to save mom.

"Let me go, Jake." I begged. "Please, I have to save her!"

His arms wrapped around my back. "I know what you're trying to do. I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

I gasped. He had figured it out. I glanced at Peter, Gauge, and Nate, they all knew about my crazy suicide mission.

"Why are you so bent on getting yourself killed? I can't protect you, if you don't let me. Can't you see that I love you?"

My body went limp. I stopped struggling. I love you, his words repeated in my brain. His eyes searched my face for the positive response he was hoping he would get. I stood very still staring up at him frowning, my lips slightly opened saying nothing.

It was right there in his brown eyes. He had spoken what his heart had longed to say. It was the truth. I knew it. He loved me. I should be happy. If only tears would just come and blind me, so I didn't have to see the pain of rejection on his face. I couldn't stand it anymore. I slipped free from his arms. He uttered a low gasp as I bolted.

I ran. I wanted to keep running until I reached the end of the earth, or found a volcano, to throw myself into like a vestal virgin appeasing the gods of heartbreak. Making the hole in my wounded heart even bigger. A dozen knives wedged inside. I should be dead from this agony.

Jake and I had been physically and mentally connected since the night I'd met him. My silence was rejection, as if by saying nothing I had said, I do not love you. Now the tears came hot as they ran down my face.

I bent over; my hand touched a gravestone, fighting the urge to crumble on the ground. I loved him. Yet I couldn't bring myself to say it, because if I did, he'd do everything in his power to stop me from risking my life, and I couldn't have that kind of interference.

I walked blindly until I reached Binco's grave. The eerie green light burst upward from the top edge of the granite. The portal into hell was open. A voice came from the light. "We've been expecting you."

I was about to dive inside, when a strange, whispery voice called my name from the shadows. Dead leaves rose up, twisting and flying in an unnatural pattern. A ghost, the same one that Jake and I had seen during the day we had driven to the cemetery to check out the Binco's gravestone, which was a portal into the Underworld. He stood beside the monument, a grey mist of a figure.

"Who are you?" I asked.

His voice was muffled and unfriendly. "The gatekeeper. You are welcome here, but they are not." He pointed to our army, which looked like a mass of giant shadows standing between the trees. Jake was right, they knew about the Slayers.

When I turned back, the gatekeeper was gone. I heard the sound of many claws striking solid rock and wings disturbing the air. Black swirls started appearing between the graves. As they stopped spinning, they became demons, hundreds of them, a militia, as Jake would say. Their black eyes watched me, perhaps remembering the day my sword had once sent some of them back to hell for more punishment.

I was surrounded.

I heard Jake's voice cry out. "On my count!"

"ONE."

Every demon seemed to turn from me to stare at Jake as he counted down.

"TWO."

They had no idea what they were about to face. They didn't seem at all ready.

"THREE!"

A great roar went up into the night sky. The Slayers advanced on the hideous legion of devils, while the demons stepped forward toward the fast moving storm of blades. Shrieks of hatred were shut out by louder chants of the name of Yesher. High-pitched cries, blades cutting, and wails were heard, as chaos and fighting erupted all around me.

"Fire!" I called to Emet. My sword flared up immediately. The jewel on the end of the hilt sparkled almost black when the green light hit it. I sprang with astonishing speed, plunging Emet into the closest demon's chest. The white flames consumed him, and not one shriek was heard.

"Ancient Fire," said Peter, now beside me. "So very cool!"

There was no time for talking as a demon pounced on Peter, his claws ripping into his armor. "Peter!" I screamed. He did a full revolution in a blur, and then drove his sword into the demon's face, killing it instantly. That's my cousin.

I had a clear shot at the portal. I was about to run when Emet sent me a warning, behind you. I felt something pounce on my back and small claws wrapped around my neck. A Runt demon was on my back, snickering in my ear, its goblin fingers strangling me. He squeezed tight, blocking off my air supply. I did not want to drop Emet, so with one hand I dug into its disgusting flesh and struggled to pry him from my throat. My head was growing woozy. I needed air!

Everything was turning white. Oxygen. I need it NOW! Suddenly I wasn't fighting anymore, I was dying.

"Yesher." I whispered the name that brought the power. It was just enough to charge me with strength. I raised my blade to my own throat and cut like I was cutting off my own head. It felt very wrong and very freaky, but it worked. The Runt screamed and let go. I ripped the rotten thing off my back and flung him to the ground. I bent over, panting hard, trying to catch my breath, watching as the Runt's dark eyes studied my sword.

"Slayer has fire," he said, nervously backing away. "Not good."

"Not good for you," I said. My blade slashed through him and Emet consumed him in flames, a cheap, demon barbeque.

A hideous scream jolted me. Mom!

I didn't even think. I just acted. I tore my shield from my arm and staggered backwards as it smoothly transformed into a steel shelter. I didn't wait. I dove head first into the green light. As I jumped, I caught a glimpse of Jake. I thought I heard him call my name. I wasn't completely sure.

We fell, Emet and I, past bone, rock, roots, all things dark that lay beneath the earth. I saw the ground coming up fast, too fast. I braced myself for the pain. I slammed onto the teeth-jarring stone floor. The strap on my hilt broke and Emet went spinning off somewhere. After a moment or two, I rolled off my flattened shield and got up on my feet.

It was exactly like my vision, except for the pain in my shoulder, leg and jawbone; that, and the stench that made me want to puke.

I turned in a slow circle, taking in the entire, dark labyrinth. It was a large chamber, with high archways leading off into passages of blackness. In the center was the throne of the King of Death. Where was mom?

Something the size of a small human hung from a rope, wrapped in an amber cocoon dangling five feet above an open pit. At first, I thought it was a giant amber bat. Then, I shuddered, to think it might be some poor creature suffering Belial's punishment.

I moved closer to the edge of the pit, listening. Sensing. The abyss seemed to be breathing. Something really nasty sent up a mist, a vapor that drifted toward me, lingering as if watching, then wafting around me, sending chills and I backed away.

"Hello, Shonna."

The air suddenly changed. I recognized the cold voice of the Prince of Darkness, Belial. The corners of his mouth were drawn back into a wolfish type grin. He inclined his head. Death marked his black eyes as he stepped from the shadows.

"Where's my mom?"

"Your mother," he chuckled, "she's hanging around. We'll get to her later. It's been a long time, what four years?"

"Five, I think."

"I do remember the funeral. You didn't see me. I was watching you. I was enjoying your grief," he said calmly, as if we were two old friends catching up on old times. "I'd like to introduce you to your new father."

Ian materialized directly across from me, wearing a black suit with a white carnation in his lapel, that same smug grin on his face. "Your mother and I tied the knot last night," he said. "It's too bad you missed it."

I gasped. "No."

"Au contraire, Mon petit fille," said Ian.

Heat flushed my face. "I'm not your little daughter!" I snapped.

"Oh, but you are, and it's all legal." He reached inside his jacket and produced a marriage certificate; mom's shaky signature was on the bottom. I tried to snatch it from him, but he jerked it back, fast. He laughed and moved a little closer to me. "Here is the best part, the man who murdered your father," he pointed at himself, "marries your mother, then kills his only daughter." Now he was really laughing.

He had just confessed to murdering dad. I should have known he was the Familiar with a knife. Anger rose like flames of hatred. I reached for my sword. Where is it?

"Are you looking for this?" asked Belial pointing to Emet. He lay on the ground next to a Runt demon. I still hadn't learned anything from Ariel's very first lesson? Keep track of your weapon at all times.

Belial gave the order. The Runt picked up my sword. I could almost feel Emet cringing as unsanctified, murderous hands touched him. Smoke started rising from the Runt's hands, and he whimpered in pain.

"Fire," I shouted.

Emet ignited and consumed the Runt in flames. "That's what you get for touching my weapon," I yelled. "Anyone else want to try?"

Belial sneered, backed away from my sword, and sidestepped toward me. "How dare you throw warnings in my house!"

"How dare you take my mother!"

Ian pulled his knife. "Let's kill her now." His dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Patience, Asmodeus," said Belial. "Patience, all in good time. We have her right where we want her now. Let's not be too hasty."

"Where's my mother?" I demanded.

"I told you. She's hanging around," He glanced toward the creature dangling from the rope. I caught a glimpse of her brown hair. To my horror, I realized that mom was inside that cocoon, hanging like meat on a hook. That old familiar anger, like a snake charmer's oil, was seeping inside me. "Take...her...down!"

They ignored my demands. Ian took a red silk necktie from his pocket and began to clean his blade. I gasped when I saw it, I remembering Mr. Kellogg. His eyes studied me until recognition lit up his face. "So I was right!" he said calmly. "You were in Kellogg's house that night." He smiled with menacing amusement. "Come on, tell me the truth little Bee. You enjoyed watching me kill him?"

"You are insane!"

He sidled closer. "Perhaps. Does that frighten you?"

"Not at all. EMET!" I shouted. Instantly he was in my hand. It felt good to have him back. "Fire!" I raised Emet to strike. Ian had vanished along with Belial.

A loud distracting thud filled the chamber. I turned to see... Jake. It looked as if he had accidentally fallen, along with a Dreader he was fighting. They continued stabbing and hitting one another. I ran to him. Emet easily took out the Dreader.

"Jake!" I threw my arms around him. "You're bleeding. Are you alright?"

"Oh, what a heartbreaking scene," said Belial, now reappearing and chuckling, slightly. "The boy hero comes to the aid of his Slayer girlfriend, too late I might add, but how delightful for us, because now it appears we have all of you; the hanging mother and the emotional little faith-warrior and the hero boyfriend, demon Slayer. So which one of you shall die first?"

A ridiculously large number of demons stood directly behind Ian and Belial; way too many to fight off. Ian split Jake and I apart. Immediately he covered my mouth and brought a knife to my chest, demanding I toss Emet into a bag. I could almost feel Emet cringe as I deposited him into that cold, dark place. I watched helplessly as the demon Lorcan tied Jake's arms behind his back.

Now I knew that fighting my way out just wasn't working. It came down to my intelligence against his. How shrewdly could I bargain for mom's life? I struggled to speak, or yell or bite his hand. None of it was working.

"Let's hear what she has to say," said Belial.

Ian reluctantly yanked his hand from my mouth.

"I'll make you a deal," I said. "Let mom and Jake go...take me."

"Why don't we just kill all three of you since we already have you?" said Ian.

"Shut up!" snapped Belial. "Let her finish. Go on."

"That's all, really," I said. "You must know if you kill us, Yesher will immediately take us out of here."

"And all of hell rejoices," said Ian.

"Enough!" snapped Belial. "Do you have a real deal to offer me or not?"

"After Jake and mom go, you can do whatever you like with me." I cringed at the thought of my own words.

"No," yelled Jake, struggling against the ropes trying to untie them. "Shonna, don't do this!"

"You will willingly lay down your life?"

I nodded.

"I'm afraid that's too easy. I am not interested in making another martyr. There is however, another way," he said. "A better way."

"Shonna, listen to me," Jake pleaded. "Don't do something crazy. You can't save your mother this way. Belial is a liar. You know that, why would trust him?"

"Somebody, please, shut...him...up!" snapped Belial. A demon used what looked like magical duct tape across Jake's mouth.

"All deals are off the table," I said, pointing at Jake. "If you hurt him."

"He's giving me a headache," Belial complained. "Don't worry, nothing will happen to your precious." He slithered closer, circling and studying me. Bile rose up at the thought of remaining his prisoner. I bowed my head, fighting the nausea, taking deep breaths, and trying to look normal.

"You will sign my contract in your own blood?"

This was his signature move that Ariel had warned me about. Belial snared more victims this way. They were legally bound by the wicked terms of his bogus contract, ignorantly assuming they had ended forever the hope of eternity.

"Um...I can't."

"You mean you won't," said Belial.

"I'm bound by blood. I cannot sign away what I don't already own. My life already belongs to Yesher."

"How touching!" sneered Belial, "I'm all aflutter. You stupid humans are all the same, fool-hearted Knights quick to give up this world, rich with material possessions. For what, I ask you? So, you can carry a sword, protect a few unworthy souls, who, by the way don't even care about you, Shonna? That's the cruelest part of all. You do service for ingrates. Look at you. You are so young! Why would Yesher choose to end your life at such a tender age? Knights in His service, what a joke!" His cold hand wrapped around my arm, sending chills through me. "You must think. Think about yourself, Shonna, What do you want? I can give you everything. Tell me, what has He ever done for you."

"You want the short list or the long one?" I asked. "He gave me His name and His armor which is much more powerful than any of your weapons!"

"Shut up!" His rage seemed to be reaching the boiling point. "You forget, young Slayer, I hold something you want." He glanced at mom. "So you'll do as I say, understood?"

Ian cleared his throat. "Why bother listening to this gooey sentimental crap any longer. Let's just kill them now, Master."

"You're the Prince of Darkness, doesn't that status mean anything?" I interrupted. "Frankly I'm surprised that you would even need a signed contract. I've seen your demons torturing people all the time, just for the fun of it."

He smiled, leaning his face close to mine, much too close. I could feel the pull of his evil power reaching inside me. "My dear, little ignorant mercenary, without a contract, I can only play with these worthless fools, but give me their signature in blood, and I have complete rights to their miserable, cursed souls for all eternity," he whispered.

I wanted to remind him, eternity would be short for him, but I thought better of it, not wanting to agitate the lunatic any further. I decided to keep him talking calmly, long enough for me to come up with a plan. I took a few steps back. "When I surrender my powers, you'll be hurting Yesher."

He cocked his head to one side, gazing upward. "Really tempting. I do love to hurt Him. No." He shook his head. "That's not nearly good enough. You see, Shonna, the truth is, I have seen your future, and I just cannot allow you to fulfill your destiny. It's your blood on the dotted line, or it's the end for everyone you love."

He snapped his fingers and the flapping pages of an aged contract materialized in his hand. "I'll give you a few minutes to read it over." He handed me the brown papers with old English lettering. "Never sign anything before reading it. I want you to know exactly what you're getting into." He spoke in a bizarre businesslike manner. "While you read, I'll just wake up your mother."

Belial snapped his fingers again and the cocoon vanished, re-materializing at his feet. He raised his arms to chest level standing over it. He whispered, and green light fell from his hands, exactly like the green light over the A.E.B. gravestone. The light surrounded the cocoon until it burst open.

Mom, dressed in black lace, lay on the broken shell. She blinked several times, gazing around the chamber. She was bruised, and her forehead cut and bloody just like Peter had said, nothing more. When she saw Ian, her eyes went wide. She sat up quickly.

"Good morning, little spouse," he scoffed, leaning over her to touch her hair.

"Mom," I sank to my knees, sobs building in my throat. When her eyes met mine, she latched on to me "You're alive!" She was trembling all over. "Oh God, your alive! He told me you were dead. I was so scared..."

I wrapped my arms around her. "It's okay. I'm okay mom," I shook my head, "I am so sorry."

She began to cry. "No, Shonna, I should have listened to you." We held onto each other, weeping. After a few minutes I helped her stand, she glanced down at the ring on her finger. "Am I... married?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Ian announced, loudly. "We didn't get to have our honeymoon yet." He winked at her.

"This happy little reunion is making me ill," said Belial between clenched teeth. "Read the contract and sign it NOW!"

I held the papers with surprisingly steady hands. What did it matter? There was no way I would break my covenant with Yesher. I read the last line. I give up my soul to Belial.

"I can't sign this."

"Then you die," said Belial. "Your mother goes first."

He wrenched mom from my arms.

* * *

Chapter 25

There was another heavy thud. I glanced over and it was Peter, he had jumped into the chamber. I figured it wasn't an accident, like Jake. Peter stood up.

"I didn't invite you" Belial sputtered, turning toward his minions he shouted, "SEIZE HIM!

Demons pounced on Peter, but as always, he was incredibly fast. Peter killed the demons. Killed them all. Ian slipped away, still clutching the bag with Emet inside.

Chaos ensued.

Belial released mom and ran for his life.

I grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her around the backside of the pit, ducking her behind the ornate throne. "Stay here!" I instructed. She nodded, still trembling.

Belial was back throwing large blue spears haphazardly defending himself against the seemingly unstoppable Mr. Peter Green.

I was untying Jake when Belial spied me. "Stop her!" His words were cut off suddenly as one of his own spears nearly took off his head, must be Peter.

I sprinted for my shield, which lay where it had fallen, I rushed back to cover mom, but she was gone. I caught Ian slipping into the darkness of the labyrinth, dragging her behind. Anger flared. I felt the bile rise up in my throat. He has mom!

Without thinking, I dropped the shield. I took off at a full run, bolting into the Labyrinth, ignoring the uneasy feeling inside. The darkness swallowed me up.

My alert senses turned raw. I reached out feeling nothing, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing.

Ian snickering voice echoed everywhere, all at once.

"Come out and face me, you coward!" I yelled.

"Always the foolish little martyr," said Ian. "My only daughter, devoted to a faceless God. What a waste of talent. You could have it all instead of playing the fool."

"I'd rather be a fool than a puppet," I snarled.

A heavy object sailed through the air and hit me hard in the stomach. I cried out in pain. I should have taken my shield.

"I can see you clearly. You can't see me and you dare call me, your father, a puppet!"

"I want my mom?" I demanded.

"Don't concern yourself. The vampire Lorcan is taking good care of her. You remember him? He sampled some of your blood last week. Its such a pity he keeps coming back, isn't it?"

Fear struck me. Lorcan! "If he hurts her..."

"I promise he will," he laughed. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" I asked. "Ready for what?"

Almost silently a whisper brushed my ear. A dark entity moved up against the door of my soul. Then whoosh, the door was shoved wide open; the force of it was so strong I grunted audibly, and bent over wanting to vomit. The evil intruder uncoiled and snaked inside. Black magic oozed into my veins under my skin, acrimony traveling my blood rivers, eliminating all pure thoughts. I swallowed hard, a bitter metallic taste turned very sweet in my mouth.

I had heard about the beautiful side of evil, finite in deception, bold as a temptress, luring the unsuspecting into her carnal pleasures. I wanted to give in so badly, even though I knew it was wrong. I gritted my teeth. "Make it stop!"

"Don't fight it," Ian whispered. "It's your destiny as my daughter. It feels good doesn't it? You can rule the world, just like me."

I saw things in that moment. Images flashed in my mind's eye. Everything I could ever dream or desire could be mine. Rightfully mine as Ian's daughter. I craved that life, fat with unlimited worldly possessions. I could see myself attending the best schools, living in a high-towered apartment, driving expensive European cars, having any guy I wanted, (except, maybe one, Jake). It would be so very easy to give in.

I clenched my teeth so tightly I felt blood in my mouth. Fight it! I screamed inside, my head wanting to explode. My body shuddered violently from the raging tempest, and tears stung my eyes like acid rain.

"You know you want it. Give in," Ian whispered. "Give in."

"I will die first!" I said. "YESHER!" I screamed into the darkness. Instantly the storm was over.

Right beside me, Ian's face materialized, hard and vicious. I gasped. His startling eyes were those of a madman. He latched onto my throat and hoisted me in the air, my feet dangling. "You refuse me!" He cursed in my face. "You're not even worthy to die in the Master's presence."

I tried to kick him, and missed.

"I'll kill you, just like I killed your father. Your death, however, will be painfully slow."

He released me. I fell hard on the rock floor, pain shooting up my leg, I clutched my throat gasping, it hurt much more than my leg.

"It's time we had some fun," he said.

I choked when he grasped my throat again. He dragged me kicking and struggling, back to the throne room and tossed me on the ground in front of the pit. Jake and Peter were both bound and gagged, but mom was missing from the group. As if reading my mind, he said, "I want my wife to see this. Bring her out!"

The vampire Lorcan dragged mom from the shadows. I struggled to run to her. "Move one more inch and she dies."

Lorcan violently jerked her head to the side, his fangs ready to bite. I sagged back against the floor feeling the weight of Ian's foot on my chest. I hated that vampire all the more.

Ian closed his eyes, raised his head, and began to sing in some foreign language, filling the chamber with seductive song.

The serpents of Abaddon crawled out of the Pit, so many of them. Hunger filled their eyes as they circled me, searching for exposed skin, licking my hands and face, tasting flesh... raking fangs along my armor, testing it... attempting to cut it open. Suddenly the horror of it struck me. Ian was assaulting me with serpents so I couldn't run away.

Finally, the closest serpent bit my left leg, cutting clear through the leather. I jerked hard. The excruciating pain pierced me like lacerations from a knife. The lethal venom flowed through my veins and into my brain. The torturous pain was equal to a million shards of glass, slicing me open slowly. I was out of my mind in agony. Somebody stop this PAIN! I hardened myself, grit my teeth and fought the overwhelming urge to scream. I was not going to give Ian the satisfaction of seeing me suffer, but he knew, because pleasure lit up his face.

After only a few minutes had gone by, I had been bit repeatedly. I lost the ability to move any part of my body. I stared at the blood flowing from the large holes in my hand. Without my sword, I was a prisoner of pain.

Ian sent the snakes away. He did not want them finishing me off. That would be his pleasure. A few serpents glanced back, a look of reprisal in their eyes; wanting to hurt Ian for not allowing them a kill.

Ian dropped down on one knee next to my tormented body, cruel amusement shimmering in his eyes. He tried several times to cut through my armor...nothing worked. Finally, his fingers ripped open the neckline, exposing the thin t-shirt underneath. I felt the tip of his knife dig into my chest, causing more pain and blood. At least I knew the pain would stop the moment I died. I prayed for death to come quickly.

* * *

Chapter 26

Mom covered her mouth with her hand and tried to look away. Lorcan shoved her head forward violently. Mom staggered, whimpering in pain.

Jake stirred. He was trying to send me a message with his eyes. So intense was his gaze that I could feel the progression run through me.

"It's time for my little Warmonger to die," Said Ian, leaning his face close to mine, He rolled up his sleeves, and drew back his knife; a drop of my blood fell from the blade onto my shirt.

Hurry up and do it! I screamed inside. I knew he was delaying it for some sort of sick, prolonged pleasure.

I took in shallow breaths of painful air as I remembered the story from Grimm's fairy tale, Our Lady's Child. I knew I was the Queen with the hardened heart, lashed to the stake to be burned for her sin. Has your heart softened? The angel had asked. Like the queen, I had lied to myself, believing I was right to resent my father. In this wicked place of torment, I reached out with my mind to find Yesher. He was patiently waiting. Has your heart softened?

"Yes," I whispered. "Forgive me."

One by one, the knives dissolved. The hole in my heart began to heal. In spite of the excruciating pain, I felt a little lighter. Now I would be able to endure death. I was ready for it.

I stared at Jake and felt as if I might stop breathing if I looked away. I reached out, and felt a pull communicating from spirit to spirit, mine toward his. A thought was rising, breaking through the pain. I almost missed it. Almost. Revelation hit me, as lightning strikes metal; brilliant flashes of sparks illuminated my darkness.

Night became day.

Wisdom flooded my soul.

I understood.

I smiled up at Ian, who had been prolonging my suffering with great joy. He frowned, his jaw suddenly tightening. He drew back and started his final thrust.

"I know something you don't," I said very fast.

He froze mid-stab. "What?"

"My faith is perfected. All I have to do is think." Emet was in my hand, the tip pressed against Ian's chest.

Fear filled his eyes.

The effect of the venom was gone, and I rose to my feet, pushing him back with my sword. "FIRE!" I yelled. Emet flared white-hot. Ian's eyes were wide with shock, he jerked away, starting to fade... escaping.

"Oh, no, you don't," I said, feeling the power rising. "DIE!" I lunged, slicing his chest wide open even as he was in the midst of evaporating. "In the name of Yesher, die!"

The high walled archways of the Labyrinth cracked slightly and a small amount of cement crumbled and fell all around our feet.

Ian's shocked open mouth began to shriek. Haunting wails bounced off the walls; screams of defeat that pierced through the cold stale air of the Labyrinth caverns. Ian gasped his final breath and sank heavily to the floor, fire consuming him. The remains of Art Binco began to mutate. His flesh cracked like old leather. That hideous expression on his shocked face shriveled away. The flesh on his torso and legs fell off in sheets, decaying instantly into a fine dust.

Binco's skeletal corpse lay gruesome for only a few minutes, before his bones creaked like old wood in the wind, then splintered...withering away, joining the other particles of dust in the pile. Ian's knife rolled from the ash and tumbled onto the cement floor with a soft clank.

Belial appeared from the dark caverns, moving slowly as if in a trance. He dropped to his knees in front of Ian's remains, clutching handfuls of dust. "What have you done?" he asked not looking at me. "It can't be true...all these years...my deadliest servant." He began to laugh, hysterical laughter. "Beaten by a girl. A little girl! The fool. The prideful fool! I tried to warn him. 'She's trouble,' I said. But he wouldn't listen." Belial turned serious. "You will pay for this, Slayer." His eyes narrowed on me and then back to the ash sifting through his fingers. "You will pay." He moaned a deep aching groan and fell upon the pile. I didn't wait to see what else he planned to do. I dashed over to mom.

Lorcan had vanished, the coward! Mom lay crying on the floor. "Mom, are you okay, mom," I asked.

She tried to reach for me as Jake helped her to her feet and Peter whistled and a yellow rope dropped down into the hole. "We've got to get out of here," he said. "I'll take your mom. You go with Peter."

I only got to hug her briefly, as Jake gently tied the rope around her waistline and she and Jake were pulled up to safety.

Belial stood up. He raised the ash above his head and screamed. "YOU WILL PAY!" His entire countenance turned sickly green. I knew he was transforming into his real persona, the giant serpent.

The rope came back down the hole. "Let's go!" Peter reached for me, my eyes caught sight of a document half-buried in the ash...the marriage certificate. I bolted toward it.

"What are you doing? Come back here!" Peter ordered.

"Just go," I said, heading for the ash. "Throw the rope back down."

"This is insane," he yelled. "Fine. I'm not leaving without you."

I ran past Belial who was hissing while green scales popped out all over him. I reached the pile of ash...blackness fell. The cavern went totally dark.

I dropped to my knees groping and searching in Ian's remains. I heard heavy footsteps drawing closer. Vampires! I sensed I was in real danger. I could feel someone standing very close. My fingers brushed against something hard...the knife! I didn't think. I just stabbed and stabbed at whatever was next to me. The knife sunk in to something soft. Someone groaned. Liquid covered my hand and arm. Blood? A heavy thud and a body hit the floor.

"PETER!" I panicked. I stood up. "Peter?" Had I killed my cousin with Ian's knife?

Frantically, my hands groped in the darkness. "Peter! Where are you Peter? God I've killed him!"

"I'm not dead. Not yet anyway," said Peter.

Hope flared inside me as I saw the glowing beacon of Peter's eyes. I lunged at him. "Peter! Did I hurt you?"

"Oh yeah! You got my arm," he said, wincing in pain. "I'm okay. You got Lorcan, by the way. Sliced the hand that was reaching for you right off."

The ground suddenly turned violent. I almost fell, but Peter caught my arm. "Can we go now?" he asked, sounding almost bored.

The flames suddenly ignited in the trenches that lined the walls. I could see Belial was almost finished forming, his long tongue was studded with sharp barbs, and it flicked like a whip at us. I realized I was still holding Ian's knife. I flung it hard at Belial's head, and missed. The knife sailed into his open mouth. Then, something extraordinary happened. Belial began choking, gagging...his head flailing around the room as if he'd been poisoned.

"Come on," said Peter, grabbing my wrist, not willing to wait around and find out exactly why Ian's dagger was damaging the Demon King. The earth rumbled...the hole was closing up. We held the rope tight, I clung to Peter, feeling rocks and bone hitting us, as we moved upward the hole closing around us.

A sudden rush of air filled my lungs as we broke the surface of the hole on top of Binco's grave. Many hands reached down to pull us out. I inhaled the wonderful, fragrant, woodsy air! Until now I hadn't realized that I'd been holding my breath.

The morning sky was gunmetal gray. I guessed it was almost daylight, much too early for the sun. I glanced around at the Slayer army. They all looked badly in need of rest, having stayed up all night. My eyes spotted mom standing with Gauge. He was holding her in his arms. I sighed, thankfully she was finally safe. Jake and his boys were laughing and talking, I started to head toward him when someone lightly touched my arm, and just like that, I was standing under a tall tree with Ariel. He dropped his hood and smiled.

"You've done quite well." He spoke inside my head, not moving his lips. "I have something you want." He drew the marriage certificate from his belt. I started to reach for it. He motioned me to stop. I complied.

He whispered something I couldn't hear and--- Poof---the document caught fire.

"It never happened." He smiled and dusted off his empty hands.

I ran into his arms. He wrapped his clawed hands around my shoulders.

When I stepped back, Ariel took my sword hand. He touched the strap that locked Emet to my wrist. In a flash of brilliant light, a surge of power fashioned intricate metalwork, composed of malleable silver, first to my wrist, then spreading up almost to the elbow, shaped in floral patterns. I felt joy from Emet, at the idea of never, ever being misplaced again. Now I could never be disarmed.

I smiled and somehow I knew that we were more than just Sword and master, steel and flesh, we were invincible. I slashed, testing the weight of the steel...perfect balance, of course it was.

"You need to go," said Ariel. "Your mother is looking for you." He vanished.

I raced back toward the great roar of shouting and celebration. The boys were all singing, we Are The Champions. I chuckled to myself.

Mom stood off on the grassy hill, her head leaning into Gauge's chest.

"Mom?" I said, approaching her. Gauge stepped aside.

Her face was stained with dirt and tears, and her hair was wild, as if struck by a jarring current. She trembled not moving and I wondered if she was in shock.

"Mom," I said, searching her face for recognition. "Please, mom." I started to cry. "Please be okay."

She reached for me. I hugged her. She melted in tears. Her voice was slightly hysterical "Is it really over? Did we win?"

"Yes, mom, we won. It really is over. I love you!"

We held each other and wept.

* * *

Chapter 27

It was nearly noon when I woke from a deep sleep still dreaming about the Cemetery battle. I couldn't get that shocked look on Ian's face out of my head... out of my dreams.

It wasn't until I got out of bed that I noticed something tapped to my closet mirror. It was a note from Gauge, wanting to see me today. I thought we had said everything there was to say, apparently, he wanted to tell me more.

Mom had been home from work for three days' her doctor had ordered her to rest for a week. She had suffered a minor neck injury...was given pain killers, but Mom didn't listen to the doctor, she went back to work a few days ago, her partner Rick, was driving her, so I had the use of the Jeep.

I dressed carelessly, not really giving much thought to what I'd wear. Mostly because I was in a slump, feeling down ever since my break up with Jake, I was miserable.

When I stepped outside the front door, I faltered. Jake. He was leaning against the white Mustang's driver's side door, dressed in black jeans and a sleek leather jacket over a white t-shirt. I moved toward him slowly making sure, I didn't look as shocked as I was feeling.

Jake straightened up.

"I'll drive you," he said, coming around to open the passenger door for me.

"Okay." I said forcing my feet to move. Although I was happy to see him, I started wondering why he was here. Had he been waiting for me to wake up all morning long?

I slid into the red bucket seat, like I'd done so many times before, feeling sort of uncomfortable, like I was headed for an intervention or something just as awkward.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I'm just driving you," he said. "That's all."

"I mean, why are you even here Jake? I can drive myself."

Sure, I was surprised to see him in my driveway. I hadn't heard from Jake, not a word since the Cemetery battle. I figured we had broken up. I wondered why I was giving him snarky comments. I should be happy to see him. Smiling, being nice.

"Gauge asked me to pick you up." He was all business. "I'll leave if you'd like."

"No. I...I am just surprised to see you. I mean, I thought... Look, Jake, I need to tell you something ..."

"You don't have to explain anything," he interrupted as he shifted into reverse and backed the Mustang down the driveway. "You don't feel the same way I do, enough said."

"No, I really do need to explain," I said. "I panicked. I thought you'd stop me, you know, before I'd risk my life to save mom. I just knew that I had to be the one. I had to do it alone."

"Go on," said Jake, guessing that there was more I had to say.

"I'm such a idiot," I said. "I should have known you wouldn't stop me. It's not you..."

I shifted uncomfortable in my seat starting to feel kind of ill, because I didn't think I could go on talking to him, not without actually seeing his face, seeing his eyes looking into mine, seeing his smile and not this grim expression on his face. I knew he loved me. It was the core to his behavior. Because of that, all I ever had to do was gaze at his face and he gave me strength, just as he had when we were in the Labyrinth and I was about to die. "Jake." I said rubbing my forehead. "Please stop the car."

He glanced at me frowning, and then slowly pulled the Mustang over to the curb, underneath a leafless maple tree.

"Look at me," I begged. "Please!"

He turned, the glum expression was gone from his face, and I could not read him. I didn't know how he was feeling. I guess that really didn't matter now, I wanted to tell him the truth.

"I wish we could start over. I wish you didn't hate me for hurting you. I wish I had told you the truth when you said that you..."

I glanced away, afraid to go on. There was this long weird pause. The vinyl seat made a slight squeaking sound as I shifted my body to look at him.

"And what is the truth?" he asked softly.

I leaned closer. "Well, you scared me Jake," I said. "You remember that night at the café when you told me you didn't approach me because you were afraid of the pain, having just suffered your mom's death."

Jake nodded.

"Well, this is why I couldn't tell you that I loved you, even though I do love you. It was because, well what if I had told you the truth and what if I had died, I could not stop thinking about how I had caused you more pain. Oh man, how stupid...I really messed things up. I am sorry Jake; you must hate me for making you suffer like that. "

"Shhh!" He said. "You did nothing wrong." His fingers reached slowly for my face as if he were afraid to touch me. He ran his thumb gently over my jawline. "How could you ever think that I hated you?" he said. "I told you how I felt, it hasn't changed. I love you."

He drew me closer; we embraced, holding onto each other. His lips closed over mine and I was floating somewhere in his breath, adrift in his kisses.

Just being in his arms... so simple and yet complex...impossible to define, but it was everything, my happiness, my living, my dying, and even my future survival in life's unpredictable tempests.

Jake and I did not go to Brian's garage right away. We spent some time together wanting to define our love, our relationship. It was nearly one-thirty when Jake finally dropped me off. I sat across from Brian watching the grey sky through the window behind his chair. Winter was moving in fast. The sky was turning gloomy much too often for my liking.

There was something different about Brian Waters. He looked happier. Perhaps he had finally made peace with his soul concerning dad's death. Or maybe it was his new love life. I wasn't really sure.

"Did you go out with my mom?" I asked him straight away.

He cleared his throat and gave me a sideways smile. "I have something for you," he said, ignoring my question. He placed a folded piece of paper in front of me on his desk. "It's from Rick Steel."

I drew in a breath. "You saw Rick?" I acted surprised, yet maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. Hadn't I seen his bike that day I had come to talk with Gauge? Back then he had also been there to Brian's shop getting a tune up on his bike or at least I thought it was.

"Yeah. I was surprised too. He was the last person I thought I would see standing on my doorstep in the middle of the night. He told me, they were going to kill him."

"Who?" I asked.

Gauge took a deep breath. "Rick was a member of the satanic church. He was in line to be the next High Priest. His final assignment was to sacrifice you." He studied me, trying to read my reaction. "Do you have any idea what they would've done to you?"

"I guess it would probably have involved my death," I said, sarcastically. "Do they really kill people?"

When Gauge gave no reply I picked up the letter. My hand shook as I opened it.

Shonna:

By now, you've probably figured out, that I gave you that drug. It was my job to hold you until they came. I can't tell you how much I hated doing that, to you. That night I just couldn't, I couldn't do what they wanted. Not to you. I called Gabby. I knew it would be the safest place to take you, since they had no idea who she was. I'm sorry for everything that happened. I only hope that maybe one day you can forgive

P.S. You were right to tell me you don't like me. I deserved that.

"Rick swore an oath when he became a member of that lair," said Gauge. "He broke that oath when he violated their trust. That generally means his death. You don't cross these guys. Rick did the only thing he could, he ran."

My thoughts returned to that horrid night. I was stunned to think that I could have died. Jake was right. I was far too trusting.

Poor Rick...I closed my eyes, desperately wishing I could remember the last words I had said to him. Did I really tell him I didn't like him? That doesn't sound like anything I would say. My memory was foggy... impossible to recall. In spite of all that had happened, I still believed Rick was a good guy. I folded the note and shoved it in my pocket.

"He says he wants to get out of the dark arts," said Gauge. "I gave him the name of a friend of mine. I hope he can help him." He was studying me with great interest.

I began to wonder, was he thinking the same thing I was? Could Rick perhaps, become a Slayer, like us? Of course, anything was possible.

I pulled my cell phone out and stood up. Gauge did too.

"Yes. I went out with your mom," he said, finally answering my question. "I'm going to see her again tomorrow night."

He waited for me to respond. Did he want my approval?

I smiled. "Well, okay. I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you around the house."

Gauge's smile was very warm. "I guess you will."

Life was perfect again, well, for now anyway.

# # #
