Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) Read online

  He yanked at the cord and it became taut, shivering with energy. “Hold on tight,” Ian said as he wrapped his free arm around my waist.

  And off we went, riding into the dark abyss, his laughter echoing behind us.

  “We’re here.”

  Those were the first words I heard after being shoved through a wall of viscous goop.

  I stared, dumbfounded at the sight of Ian sitting on the stoop with my ghost beside him, awash in the light of the flood lamp above my front door.

  “Who’s this?” he asked, pointing to the apparition.

  “Wait a minute.” I spun around and saw the lawn, and the hazy silhouette of the mailbox and hedges that lined our property.

  “It’s a one-way trip,” Ian replied to my unasked question. “You can’t get back in from here.”

  “Yeah, but how did you know where I live?”

  “Do you really want an explanation? It’s sort of long- winded and doesn’t make any difference. Meanwhile, what’s up with Casper?”

  “Who?”

  “You know, the friendly ghost?” He pointed to Ghosty, who remained inert.

  “It’s been here ever since I came home from the hospital. I’ve been seeing them everywhere.”

  “Were you sick or something?” he asked. Concern drew lines around his mouth.

  “Do you really want an explanation? It’s sort of long-winded and doesn’t make any difference.” I avoided his gaze and found my bag on the floor. I picked it up and dusted it off before making my way up the stairs, keys in hand.

  “Well, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ian said, hopping to his feet.

  My mind was buzzing with questions about what I had just seen and experienced. All I wanted to say was “No, don’t go. Come inside. Tell me everything,” but the words got stuck in my throat. The part of me that would have confided in him had already switched off.

  I started to put my key in the lock when Ian called out.

  “Oh, and Gemma.”

  “What?” I said.

  “I’ve been seeing them since I was born.” And then he left.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, I immersed myself in routine. Wake, run, shower, eat. This time though, I had had a late start. My mind kept racing in circles. First to Miss Halle’s psychotic break then to Ian’s trippy way home, leaving me sleeping all through the entire length of Freddie Mercury’s operatic styling of “Bohemian Rhapsody” I had set as my alarm.

  “Good Morning, pumpkin.” My dad stood next to the counter with his coat on, rifling through stacks of papers and yesterday’s mail.

  “Morning.” My voice was hoarse. Must have been the pound of sand I swallowed following Ian into Never Never Land.

  “I got a call last night at the office about what happened yesterday.”

  Thanks for calling to check up on me, Dad. “No biggie,” I replied and began shoveling Cheerios into my mouth so that I wouldn’t say something stupid.

  He fiddled around with his briefcase, transferred a bunch of manila folders, and rearranged them until he seemed satisfied with the way they fit. “No, it is a big deal, honey,” he said, looking up from his papers.

  Finally, he is going to realize I’m alone.

  “But I really had to work late and you know how it is when I get busy.”

  Ah, the two big b’s: but and busy.

  “Sure, Dad,” I answered. My head ached and I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. I’ve had my fill.

  “Can you describe these black spots for me, Gemma?”

  This was a new doctor. A pediatric neurology specialist flown in from the Boston Children’s Hospital after a lot of arm- twisting.

  “They’re more like shadows.” I flicked the first aid tape that held my IV in place and played with the end as it began to curl.

  “Can you be a little more specific? It’s important we find out exactly what you’re seeing so you can get a proper diagnosis. The sooner we can give you a clean bill of health, the sooner you can go home.”

  “Um… Can I get some water?” I asked. If I stalled long enough, maybe he would give up and leave. The thought of going home petrified me. Four weeks in the hospital had me wrapped in a cocoon of fear and complacency.

  “Gemma,” my dad barked.

  “What? I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get the water.” He stuck his index finger in my face. “You answer Dr. Volpe’s questions.”

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I lay there, staring at the small television screen, ignoring Dr. Volpe until he made up some excuse about checking my MRI results again and left.

  “Gemma, please.” My father’s pleas stole through the wall I had erected to shut everyone out so I reinforced it and sealed myself tighter while the nurses dragged my screaming father out of the room.

  “Gem?”

  “Hmm?” I looked at my dad and knew by the strain in his neck that he had caught me zoning out.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Is what okay?” I mumbled as I tilted the bowl to my face, slurping up some of the milk.

  “We’ll drive down to the station now so we can wrap up your statement to the police and then you won’t miss too much class.”

  “I don’t think so.” My heart hit the floor.

  “Gemma, it’s about time you got over your fear. You can’t let these kinds of things dictate your life.” The vein on the side of his forehead reared its ugly head and I knew he was frustrated. My dad the control freak couldn’t get me to do anything these days. With Brian it was different. I had a partner and it was easy getting things done - homework, studying, practice, even chores.

  “These kinds of things?” My voice was harsh and I nearly spewed a mouthful of cereal into his face. “I was in an accident. My brother died. My two best friends died. And I’m just supposed to paint on a happy face and get on with my life so you can feel better?”

  “That’s not what I meant, Gem.” He let out a sigh.

  I pushed my bowl into the sink and stalked off to the coat closet where I wrenched my jacket off its hanger and pulled my tote off the floor.

  “Gem, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help. It isn’t healthy to let life’s rough spots stop you from living.”

  “Oh, just like when Mom left.” I threw my arms up in the air. “You had no problems leaving us with baby-sitters and getting right back to your research. Or how about now? Do you even notice that Brian is gone?”

  “What happened with your mother was different.” His eyes grew cold. “You’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”

  “Sure,” I scoffed.

  He held the front door open for me and I stormed off towards his car. I grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath. My father paused and smiled before getting into the driver’s seat. The ignition started and the car rumbled to life.

  Frantically, I rapped my knuckles against the plate glass window. When there was enough of an opening, I blurted, “I’ll meet you there,” and ran down the driveway.

  I managed to get to the police station fifteen minutes after my dad, which I thought was great timing. He did not. I could tell by the number of times he checked his watch. This happened to work to my benefit since the detective on the case decided to spare me additional parental torture by keeping the interview short and sweet.

  He explained that Ms. Halle was still in custody and was awaiting arraignment. The city was pressing charges but her lawyer had requested a mental health evaluation.

  When I strode into gym class, with only ten minutes left to the period, I had the pleasure of being the target of a barrage of dodge balls.

  After changing out of my gym clothes, I met Charlotte in the hallway. She had opted for a more demure look of skin-tight jeans and a red velvet corset top. Definitely, the most clothing I’d seen her on her in school since fourth grade.

  “Guess what?” she said.

  “Your cleavage got cast as the lead in the school play?”

&nb
sp; She had started developing first. I was still in the process of catching up.

  “Shut up. No, really. Try to guess.” Her pout was accentuated by high gloss pink lipstick.

  “I hate it when you pout,” I replied as I took out my wallet and shoved the rest of my bag in my locker.

  “Well, aside from everyone talking about how you pulled a gun on the old librarian, I got the lead in the Broadway Revue.”

  “I did not. It was the other way around!” I slammed the door to my locker and went straight to the cafeteria, dragging Charlotte along.

  “Just forget it, Gem.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I joined the line and ended up with a bagel and cream cheese while Charlotte got her usual chicken Caesar salad.

  “Let’s go sit and you can vent to me all you like,” she said.

  As I was unwrapping the wax paper from my sandwich, someone elbowed me, sending my food underneath the table to my right.

  “Please don’t shoot,” Allison said in mock terror. Her friends giggled like a cackle of hyenas. She parked herself on the bench while Matt took the empty spot next to her. I couldn’t get to my lunch now even if I was willing to salvage it. Which I wasn’t. The dust bunnies hiding under the baseboard heater and around the legs of the table extinguished any plans to follow the five-second rule.

  “Hey, Matt,” I said, my voice low.

  He didn’t reply and continued to inhale his meatball sub. I had always teased him about slowing down.

  “Go away, Gemma,” Allison snapped.

  Not having enough money to get something else, I gave up on the thought of lunch and joined Charlotte, who had snagged a spot in the back near the emergency exit doors and the window with the view of the field.

  “Why do you even listen to that bitch?” Charlotte asked, stabbing a crouton with her fork.

  “I can’t bring myself to be mean to her, no matter how badly I want to be. She’s kind of one of the only connections to Brian I have left. Hopefully, she’ll come around and stop being a perpetual hag.” I sighed, picking a piece of grilled chicken from her bowl. “But I don’t want to be a downer. Tell me about the play.”

  I managed to find a smile for her, which sent Charlotte into a flurry of dialogue about the audition after drama class and the casting list that had been tacked up on the bulletin board first thing this morning.

  “Who knew so much work went into these things? But apparently Marcus really likes to put on a semi-professional production so he made everyone audition right away.” Her demeanor had turned remarkably serious.

  Marcus, whom we all knew was born Marc Torres, was a fixture in Harrisport, always with the same olive green scarf around his neck, regardless of the weather, and newsboy hat concealing his male pattern baldness. He directed the two school performances and ran the Roundabout Community Theater. This year, with the help of private funding, Principal Kelly was able to add a drama class to the curriculum.

  “I’m proud of you, Char.”

  The rest of the day passed by in a slow wave of boredom. I spent my time analyzing my supernatural trip with Ian, who was nowhere to be found, and wondering if I should mention any of it to Charlotte.

  I did perk up as soon as it was time for Mr. Flynn’s class, excited at the prospect of getting any information out of him that would help get rid of the ghosts that were beginning to become more of a nuisance. I sat down and rummaged through the endless stuff in my bag in search of a pen.

  “Hey.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out Ian taking the same seat as yesterday.

  “One sec. Got it.” I held my ballpoint up in glee and ran my gaze from the tip of his black Chuck Taylors, over his fitted black cargos, to the waffle knit Henley until I reached those charming eyes. They’re greener today.

  “Good afternoon, class.” Mr. Flynn marched into the classroom, satchel tucked under his arm, wearing white tennis shoes with dark wash jeans. Eek. “Today, we will begin our unit on Lies and Deceit with Hamlet.” He walked over to the closet at the far end of the room and pulled out three stacks of paperback editions of Shakespeare’s classic. “Allison, will you please help me distribute the books.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Flynn.” I could have sworn I heard her purr like a cat.

  With the class busy, I leaned over to Ian and said, “About yesterday.”

  “What about it?” he said looking like he had just eaten the canary.

  “Well,” I was grasping for the right words, “what exactly was all that?”

  He slid his desk closer to mine until I was able to make out the slight stubble on his jaw that trailed down his neck and smell the intoxicating scent that clung to him like second skin.

  “You didn’t seem eager to talk afterwards. I could only assume you weren’t too impressed.” He was still smiling, the only indication that I shouldn’t take him seriously.

  “Well, I was waiting for you to ditch the surfer look. I’m finding this ‘you’ a bit more irresistible.” Did that just come out of my mouth?

  His laughter was melodic but contained. “I’m more than willing to catch up later.”

  I groaned at my own disappointment. “I can’t. I promised Mr. Flynn I would join his book club. For extra credit. I kind of need it, just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  “I fail my tests miserably.”

  Just then, Mr. Flynn rapped on his white board with a long metallic pointer and pulled up a series of slides. “These are your notes,” he said in a militaristic tone. “Please copy them from the board. These are the only notes I want you taking. When everyone is finished, I expect your full attention. Then I will regale you with many fascinating facts about William Shakespeare.”

  The lecture ended up being more interesting than anticipated. Listening to his accent could have been the reason why Mr. Flynn had everyone enraptured, or his captivating theatrics. Nevertheless, time flew by and before long, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

  “Here’s my number.” Ian slipped a scrap of paper into my tote and went for the door.

  Allison was on his heels in moments. I watched as she shoved her way passed a few people just to get to him and then proceeded to paw at his arms. The look on his face remained benign in spite of the effort she was making, so I couldn’t tell if he was interested in her or not.

  My heart fluttered when he looked me in the eyes. And it just as quickly deflated when he nodded to Allison and let her lead him away.

  “So, Miss Pope, are you ready for your first lesson?” I turned to Mr. Flynn’s voice, who had taken Ian’s place beside me. The class had quickly emptied out.

  “Yes, I am.” At least I hope so.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The so-called book club was noticeably lacking membership. Mr. Flynn and I were the only ones who stayed after class and my apprehension was evident.

  “No worries. I can’t be teaching you the secrets of the universe with an audience. I postponed it due to a scheduling conflict.” He added air quotes.

  “So, these secrets. How do you know about them?”

  “You can consider me an expert of sorts.” He stiffened his spine, unbuttoned his blazer to reveal his retro batman t-shirt and took on a boyish appearance with his goofy smile.

  “Let’s have it then.” I was in the mood for a challenge.

  “First things first. Let me allay your fears and tell you that the things you’ve seen lurking about are not a figment of your imagination.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.

  “Yes, because you want to know that all your faculties are intact when I tell you the rest.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Brilliant! Let’s begin.” He got up and closed the door. When he sat back down, I understood why.

  “That,” he pointed to the black splotch on the wall, “is one of the Dybbuk.”

  “Of course,” I singsonged.

  “Cheeky, aren’t you? Go ahead, go on and touch it
.”

  “I don’t think so.” I scrunched my nose up in distaste.

  “Miss Pope, let me explain to you how this is going to work. We are forming a relationship wherein you and I,” he motioned his hand in a give and take gesture, “are working to a mutually beneficial goal.” His eyebrows did a little dance as he said those words.

  “And?”

  “And in order for you to understand what this goal is in the scope of things, you need to do as I say.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a partnership.”

  “It isn’t. I’m the one holding most of the cards.”

  “Well, I may not know much,” I replied, “but if my hand didn’t trump yours, you wouldn’t have me sitting here.”

  “Touché.” He stood up and walked back towards the Dybbuk, placing his hand over what I could imagine as its head. “See,” he continued. “Nothing. And this is why: the Dybbuk is a collective, a group of lost souls denied entrance to the Otherworld. Unable to find peace, they roam the Earth in search of a living thing, of their choosing, to attach themselves to. Once they have taken possession of this human, animal, or plant, they begin to alter that being’s behavior to suit their needs.”

  “So why am I seeing them?” I asked.

  “Usually, a trip to the Otherworld can make you a bit screwy. Crossing the veil can open your eyes just a bit wider.”

  “My accident.” I rubbed the back of neck.

  “Correct. But there is something else, which I can’t figure out, and that’s where you come in.” He went over to his desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and lifted out the gray leather- bound tome I had glimpsed the day before. He set the book in front of me, keeping it closed with his hands clenched on either side of the worn cover.

  “I need to know you’re with me.” His eyes pleaded with me and I couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful lips while I thought of what to say next. How could I say no?