Call Me Twice

Chapter 12: Nowhere's safe

Lia

We get the house respectably clean by the time Ms. Miller gets home. We aren't doing a good job pretending to be asleep, but we do succeed in acting like we haven't been fighting a demon. So that's something.
Josie and his mother hug, and they thank us again. Josie winks a little. Nikolai winks back. And then we depart. Neither of us want the other to walk home alone, which turns out to be a problem for ten minutes.
"I'm dropping you off. I have the dagger."
"It wants to eat your face!"
"We don't know that! Why would you put that out there! Why would you say that? Why would you give it that idea?"
"It's a demon! It probably has all the ideas! Now I'm walking you home we know it doesn't want to hurt me," I say.
"I don't want to go back there, I'd just crawl in the window they might hear."
"Oh my GOD."
"What?"
"Come on, my house is this way."
"So you're letting me walk you home?"
"No, dipshit, you're coming home with me. We'll go in the window it's completely fine."
"Ah. That is a better idea."
We get back in the small hours of the morning. Blessedly nobody thought to lock my window and Nikolai isn't opposed to climbing trees. We're both soar and cry out more than once in pain as we clamber up, but we manage. Nikolai has bled through a couple of bandages and I'm biting my lip to keep from crying, by the time we clamber in.
We take turns cleaning up in the bathroom. While Nikolai does I divide up my pillows for him so he can curl up on the rug. He is more than happy to do just that, coming out with his hair wet and slicked back, having re-bandaged the worst of his injuries. I go in and change, I don't bother to change the bandage but I do clean up as best I can in the sink, then I throw back on my jeans and a looser shirt. I should offer Nikolai a change of clothes but he has a lot of biceps I don't know if my shirts would fit.
When I go back out he's gotten a solid black teddy bear out of his backpack and is curled up holding it, writing in a notebook and frowning a little.
"Nice teddy," I say.
"Thank you," he says, not reacting, "His name is Bebe."
"This is Petunia," I say, holding my purple stuffed bunny, "Harper gave him to me, when I was eight. I had to get a shot, and I was crying."
"My dad got him for me, I was tiny probably two or something. I just remember him letting me hold it in this really big store," he says, not looking up from his writing. His accent is heavier with tiredness.
"It's nice to have a teddy."
"Yeah."
We don't speak of the demon. Finally exhaustion takes it's toll, and in moments we are both soundly asleep, him on the floor curled up with a couple of pillows, me on the bed not even properly changed.
When we wake the light is shining in the window and my mother is rapping on the door.
"Lia, honey? Are you awake?" The door starts to ease open.
"Yeah!! I'm up—five minutes," I say, bolting to pin myself against the door as Nikolai sits up blearily. He blinks his eyes and looks around calm as a hound dog, mumbling in Serbian, then his face registers fear as he realizes where he is.
Now, from my perspective, I've been demon fighting with my gay best friend, all night, and came back to crash here for safety. From the real world, normal person perspective, I had a BOY spend the night in my room.
"Shit, have not done this before," I mutter, hurrying across the room to grab my school things and a sweatshirt.
"Well neither have I!" He mutters, getting up and packing up his few things which were his teddy bear and notes and Walkman.
"Okay um—window, I'll distract them downstairs," I say.
"Okay, give me—five minutes—oh shit make that ten," he says, wincing as he tries to walk to the window, "Meet me at Mullholland drive, after noon."
"Sounds good—do you want a change of clothes or something—? Food—?"
"I'll get breakfast before the library it's good," he says, tossing my pillows back on my bed, "Do those go there or—?"
"There is completely fine, just go, I'll make sure they're all in the kitchen," I say.
I say this with confidence, that I probably should not have considering I'm trying to hide the fact that last night a demon dog ripped my back open. In the end I get through it my parents are more than concerned about me asking how my evening went so I lie for like twenty minutes then excuse myself for school.
Nikolai isn't on the road so he's already well on his way. I am on my bike now, so I bike the opposite direction of school and for the other side of town. To Missy Davis' house.
Nikolai gave me her address from when he spoke to her, so I'm hoping she doesn't mind a desperate teenager showing up on her doorstep.
I find myself in a respectable community, mostly little ranches with big yards and barking dogs. I am the only person out on the quiet street, which unnerves me. But everything unnerves me after last night.
My destination is a little grey brick house, with a green door. There's plants flourishing in planters on the porch, and the flower bed is bright and cheerful.
I park my bike in the path and walk up to the door, tentatively, I knock.
An elder woman opens the door, leaving just a faded screen door between us. She's probably late sixties, with grey hair neatly swept back.
"Hi, um, I'm Lia—a friend of Nikolai Brenner's? He said you might be able to help us."
"Ah yes, come in," she says, smiling knowingly, "I was hoping you would come by."
"You were?" I ask, stepping in slowly. The house is full of plants. A cat scampers past my feet. I jump a little, but follow her to a small sitting room, with white wicker furniture.
"Yes, I knew your friend's father," she says, smiling warmly, "Tea?"
"No, thank you, I don't want to take up too much of your time," I say. sitting down slowly.
"Where is Nikolai?" She frowns.
"Um, doing a bit more research as well, we were dividing and conquering—we—he said you were an expert, in hauntings. And, demons," I say, "Something of that kind."
"Yes," she smiles a little, "Something of that kind."
"How did you know Nikolai's father?" I ask.
"He and my brother were about the same age. They weren't typical boys, in school, very bookish that sort of thing. Something got them on the subject of the ley lines, I'm not clear what. Anyway, they became convinced they'd found proof of demon activity. Eventually I was roped in to help. We found some, conclusive evidence. Sebastian lost interest eventually, he didn't want to meddle in the occult, but Yule and I of course retained our passion. No hard feelings, the boys fell a bit out of touch when Sebastian and Yule both went to college, typical. I tried to contact Sebastian regarding some previous research, he was always happy to share, and his parents informed me he'd died. Imagine my surprise some fifteen years later he calls me out of the blue to immediately start talking about some ancient cave drawings he'd found. Turns out he's quite alive and well, living in Malibu with a very handsome doctor," she laughs.
I smile as well, "He didn't know you thought he was dead?"
"Oh I got a word in edgewise and told him. He was quite amused and assured me he was very alive. We remained in touch on and off throughout the years, mostly to do with research," she says.
"So he kept an interest in the occult?" I ask.
"To an extent. Sebastian was interested in most anything if it involved history or human behavior. He was something, there wasn't a subject you could think of that he didn't have ten sources and half a thesis on," she smiles fondly, "I was glad to hear from his son. And I'm glad to help you children with, any information. My demon hunting days are over. I gave that up, years ago. I tried to convince Yule as well, but..."
"I'm sorry," I say.
"I'm sorrier you children are somehow caught up in something like this," she says, "Tell me, what does bring you here?"
"We think—we did see a demon, last night. We think it's been haunting this one house, and maybe killed some people," I say, taking a breath.
"Demons are capricious, certainly vindictive at times, but their methods are usually remote. They lack power, few believe in them these days and their hauntings will often go unnoticed. Aside from scratches or the odd bruise, they rarely do harm," she says, frowning.
"I'll start at the beginning. Monday morning, at one am, my boyfriend, Harper Miller, disappeared," I say.
"I heard about that, the papers implied drugs," she frowns.
"Yes. He had used, but he was clean and that night I know he was sober. We found him at the intersection of two ley lines. Coroner has yet to release a cause of death but he had slash wounds to his chest," I say, "After that, there was paranormal activity at his house. Noises, the like, a shadowy figure."
"Very typical of demonic activity, or a spirit," she nods.
"Three people who had—wronged Harper somehow died in the next couple of days," I say, "In ways that—are unexplainable. A man fell into a vat of oil, a shelf fell on a girl and nearly cut her head off, and a boy at school, we witnessed his arm get caught in a locker and get pulled off. Then we visited Harper's father, and his —his brain bled just as he was standing there in front of us."
"I see," she says, gravely, "Go on."
"So last night—we attempted to contact the demon, just standard, ask it who it was, what it wanted. If it was responsible for those people dying," I say.
"And how did that go?" She asks.
"It wouldn't come—Nikolai was able to irritate it into showing itself."
"Oh, so he's biologically related to Sebastian then? I wasn't sure which."
"Yeah, is this genetic?"
"Yes, it seems so, but the past is not important I'm sorry go on."
"Right, going on, the demon then got pissed, talked to him, and then we were able to summon it, and it spoke to all three of us. Long story short, it revealed that Harper's father sold him to it—in that Mr. Roschell sold his first born's soul, to the demon in return for wealth or power or whatever—well the demon has now killed him. And it has Harper's soul. So my question is, is there anyway we can get Harper back? Bargain for him somehow?" I ask, hopefully.
"All right, so bear with me. I'm going to start by saying that you were very lucky to get out of what you did alive. Demons are not things to be trifled with, and what you did summoning it was very, very dangerous. However, as you experienced even proper summoning may not work. Spirits such as these pick their victims, as it were, they will not come to just anyone it makes investigation itself rather tricky," she explains.
"That's fair. To be clear, Nikolai said we probably shouldn't, but he did it immediately anyway," I say..
"Well, so identical to his father, all right. That's good to know," she shakes her head.
"So can we get him back? Harper? Surely we can—give the demon something else in exchange for him?" I ask.
"Like a person you don't like? It doesn't work like that, and as you saw happened to Harper's father, demons win in the end. They'll never accept a deal, that will benefit you. They always win in the end. Always," she says.
"But you're a demon hunter—there has to be some way—to kill it wouldn't that free Harper's soul?"
"No, unfortunately not. In order to free him, this would be assuming you even still could it's been days now. The soonest we ever spared a possession was within hours," she says.
"Okay," I nod.
"—in order to free him you'd have to already have claim to his soul. And even then the demon would probably have a loophole, and would attempt to get him back, or just haunt you for the rest of your lives in revenge. You'd have to slay the demon, which is not at all easy."
"Okay, how do you do that?" I ask, hopefully.
"You can kill a demon with iron," she says, "Only that, or a consecrated item."
"Nikolai has a dagger," I nod.
"Wait here," she says, rising.
I obey, fidgeting and looking around at the plants. There's a bit of noise from the other room, and then she returns with a long, iron chain, and a simple spike.
"These, would be able to kill the demon, but in order to do that, you must not only kill it once. You must kill it for every soul it's ever claimed. This could be hundreds of times. That's how my brother died. He was slaying a demon, repeatedly, but while it was regenerating it succeeded in killing him."
"What happened to it?" I ask.
"I slayed it," she smiles a little, "But it didn't bring my brother back. And I nearly lost my own life."
"You're saying I shouldn't try," I say.
"I'm saying, you have a thousand to one odds, of succeeding. And I learned the hard way, my own life is worth more than that. Don't lose your life, or that of someone you care about," she says, "Not when you have little to no chance of success."
"Then why are you giving them to me?" I ask, as she sets the end of the chain in my hand.
"Because I was young once, and in love. And I know I'm not going to stop you. So you might as well have the proper tools," she says, smiling a little.
"So we have to keep killing it. And then eventually it'll die—but you said that wouldn't free Harper?" I ask.
"Correct," she says, "The only way to reclaim his soul now, is if someone else had claim to it, before the demon took him."
"How would we do that?" I ask.
"We don't. There are very few binding contracts stronger than a demon's claim to a first born. A mother's claim usually could, but that would have worked if we'd known while he lived, the mother could have staked her claim. Now that he's already gone, the only thing that might bring him back is if he pledged his life to another, and that other was willing to die for him," she says.
"How would we know that?"
"The easiest thing is marriage, but the demon hedged his bets and took a minor," she says, "I'm sorry, there's not likely anything you can do now."
"Yes there is," I say, quietly, "Marriage, you said, could do it?"
"Yes but no one was married to him," she says.
"Not yet," I say, almost smiling, "He asked me to marry him. It was the last thing he said to me."
"He did?" She frowns.
"What's the fastest, binding marriage ceremony you know of, Ms. Davis, that doesn't require a priest?" I grin.