The Eye Of The Hurricane

17:

"YOU!" Brendon flung himself back. He caught himself with his arms, but one of his hands landed in a slick puddle. He cried out as his hand went sailing to the side and his body fell back.

Dallon grabbed his shirt to keep him from hitting the floor. Brendon grabbed his wrist from pure instinct, but quickly released it.

"You're a demon." Brendon gasped.

"Yes." Dallon nodded, still holding his shirt.

"You're in my fucking boyfriend!?"

"For the time being." Dallon brought a finger to his lips. "Shhh, he's sleeping."

Brendon grabbed Dallon's-not Dallon- wrist and yanked himself back. His shirt released from the grip holding him up and he fell the short distance to the ground with a hard thud.

"Get the fuck out of him!" Brendon's voice was a squeak. He guessed, "You fucking murderer!"

To his surprise, Dallon-not Dallon- laughed. "First of all, do you really want him waking up to a bloodbath?" The demon raised his eyebrow. "You'd send the poor human to an institution, and that's where the real demons are. Second of all," He gestured to the ceiling, "I didn't do this. I was making a deal."

"A deal?" Brendon repeated. He was still on the ground. Something inside prevented him from using his arms to push himself back up.

The demon smirked with Dallon's lips. "Pretty boy gives me a joyride and he gets to sleep through the storm. No memories beyond that point and maybe no memories of any of it."

That got Brendon to push himself upright. "Stay the fuck out of his head."

Another head tilt. "Aren't you glad he won't have to remember the trama of thinking you were dead as your friend up there?"

Josh

Brendon took another look up. His eyes instantly filled with tears. "If you didn't do that, then who did?" He asked, blinking to let the tears trail down his cheeks.

"What I was trying to warn you about, dumbass."

Brendon turned back to Dallon. Ryan. The demon. The demon in Dallon. Red eyes. His head swam with all the potential things to call whatever sat in front of him.

He blinked and the thing was gone. More panic swirled in his chest for an instant, but a wave of calm knocked it down within seconds.

"Just breathe." Dallon's voice instructed him. It came from his left side, but Brendon continued to look ahead.

"Where's Tyler?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"Who killed Josh?"

"I don't know."

Brendon finally turned to the thing speaking through his boyfriend. It was Dallon's face, body, and voice... But those eyes were a far contrast from Dallon's. "Why should I trust you?"

Dallon's lip tugged up, ever so slightly. "Because you know me." He tapped Brendon's forehead. "I've brought those memories back to you."

Brendon flinched. "What if that was all bullshit?"

Dallon rolled his eyes. "You already had the memories with blank spots. I told you something was trying to remove me from the picture. Now, it looks like it's removing your friends."

Brendon shut his eyes to keep himself from looking up again. "Why Dallon?" He asked instead, "Why are you in him when you got on just fine without him?"

"It's harder without a vessel." Brendon opened his eyes as Dallon explained, "I can only appear on a spectrum that humans can see in this world for so long. The vessel lets me have constant access. Though, sometimes, it can be tricky." A wicked grin that looked misplaced on Dallon's face spread over his lips. "Fear let's me in. Dallon was full of it. I was already able to influence him, and his yes came willingly at my offer."

Brendon stared at the man in front of him. Dallon was scared enough to let a demon in. Scared by a situation that he had pressured them into. "I'm so sorry." The words were whispered out without the command from his brain. How could he just ignore Dallon's trauma like that? For him to say yes to a demon possessing him...

"He can't exactly hear you right now, but I'll transfer the message to some other stupid thing you've done." Dallon replied.

Brendon glared at him. "My friend is fucking dead." He pointed up to the ceiling, but refused to drag his eyes to the spot. "Another is missing and another one can't even tell us what's going on with him!" He brought his arm down and shoved the demon back. He propelled himself back as well, planting his butt in a thick, lukewarm, puddle. He winced, trying not to think about what it was.

"And people say demons are dramatic." Dallon rolled his eyes.

"Why?" Brendon let out, exasperated. "Why us? Why here and now?" Brendon considered just laying on the floor and waiting out this nightmare. Maybe he would wake up to a bad leak, or spilled previsions. Maybe it was all really a dream.

"You're the only idiots around for miles." Dallon replied, cooly. "You yourself have had contact with demons, so it has changed you. Other creatures will know."

"So this is my fault!?" Though it came out a question, Brendon was already considering it his fault. He could have invited everyone over to his parent's place. It was safe enough on high ground. It hardly leaked anymore, and anything that would have gotten inside would have been so much more manageable than seeing his friend dismembered on the ceiling.

He was pulled out of his self pity by a gurgling noise. It was faint, hardly audible through the storm, but there. It sounded so close.

Brendon turned his head, noting that a classroom sat just to his side with the door ajar. He shifted his position so that he was on his hands and knees. He then began to crawl towards the room. He strained his ears to listen for the sound again, but heard nothing.

Dallon questioned what he was doing, but Brendon ignored him. When he reached the room, he pushed the door, letting it squeak as it opened to darkness.

"Get the light." Brendon instructed as he eyed the dark. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have seen a figure on the ground.

Within a second, the lantern was beside him and the light filled the room.

There were no student desks. It almost looked like a teacher's lounge, forbidden for students to enter. There was a small couch with graffitied stains covering So much of it, it was impossible to know its original color. A round, broken table sat in two halfs, meeting in the middle where both sides touched the ground. Splinters littered the area around it.

On the ground, tiles chipped away, leaving large patches of dirt. It was in one of those patches that the figure that Brendon thought he might have imagined came to life.

It was Tyler. His arms were in the process of dropping to his sides as a dark red liquid poured from his neck.