Better late than never?
Okay... so... I got a tiiiny bit behind in the writing... and then a reeeally lot behind in the posting. So much for being on top of things this year. However, for the first time since day five or six (not really sure when it all went to hell), I'm back on track. I just need to write 1500 words tomorrow and I'm done.
Thank god.
The characters have become identical shells, the plot has holes big enough to sink the titanic, and I've stopped looking for song lyrics at the beginnings of chapters because it takes too long... but the writing is still coming, and that's all that matters.
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Chapter 4
Make your decision and don't you dare think twice
go with your instincts along with some bad advice
this didn't turn out the way I thought it would at all
you blame me, but some of this is still your fault
~Which to Bury; Us or the Hatchet~
Reliant K
Dem slouched in his seat on the bus, headphones drowning out the low sounds of public chatter going on around him. It was a dreary, sodden day, the kind where the air is thick with humidity so that your clothes stick to your skin, but where the rain never quite comes, other than the occasional, dismal drizzle that serves only to dampen your clothes and make you even more miserable than before. It was the kind of day that would normally have been incredibly satisfying for the young demon, soaking up the auras of all the frustrated people around him as they rushed to and from their commutes. It was the kind of imperfect he wished he’d planned.
But, even if he had, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to shake the scathing rebuke he’d gotten earlier that morning. His face darkened just thinking about it, and his shoulders slouched a little more. From the corner of his eye, he caught an elderly woman giving him a disapproving glance and he made sure to glower in her direction. Let her go home and fume about the disgraceful state of today's youth and maybe, in her bad mood, take it out on her own children.
Dem squinted at her. Never mind. Her neighbor's children, then. That'd be bad enough.
Still, it was small compared to the screw up that had occurred.... and the worst of it was that it wasn't even his fault. Not really. As far as screw ups go, it should have been mild... except he was Melchom's grandson. And, when living up to the infamy of a demon like Melchom, you didn't do screw ups, mild or otherwise.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried. Damning souls wasn't really his thing. He preferred a broader approach. But there'd been an opening and, other than the few complaints he was obligated to make, he'd really given it a go. It should have been an open and shut case, too. The human he'd watched had the mental capacity of a gold fish and it had been easy to lay all the clues out to watch them stumble blindly into all manner of conspiracy theories. Paranoid and desperate to fit in, Dem's subject had happily gone along with the anti-establishment messages Dem left for him, until he'd come up with the coup de gracie. It was pretty cliche, the idea of satanic messages being recorded on an album, if you listened to it backwards, but there were still some people who went in for that sort of thing and, if you could find some sap stupid enough to be swayed by it, it was always good for a laugh.
Which was his problem, really. He'd been trying to break the boredom of the same old routine by adding a little bit of interest, only it had all gone wrong.
Sure, he'd planted the suggestion to get the album. He'd let his subject stumble across all the clues about playing it backwards and the powers associated with it. He'd even managed to get him in the right circle of friends, who impressed upon him the undeniable truth and power of all things media. It was a trinity of ignorance that was kind of amazing to behold.
Except, he hadn't expected his subject to miss the whole point. Rather than listening to the album backwards, he'd listened to it forwards. Over. And over. And over. And by the time he'd finished, three things had happened.
One, Dem's subject had developed a sickening infatuation with the Beatles.
Two, he'd decided to adopt the philosophy that "All You Need is Love," and donate all of his worldly possessions to charity.
And, three, Dem was pretty sure he'd throw up if he ever heard another British pop song at any point in his immortal life.
As far as he was concerned, that should be penalty enough. I mean, really, there are only so many times you can hear "Hey Jude" without beginning to question your sanity (and without kind of suspecting that some other demon must have been behind the success of a group that only knew three chords in their collective experience). But he seemed to be the only one with that opinion.
Leaving his subject's consciousness, in desperate need to get away as he switched to the Abbey Road album he'd bought that morning, Dem had tried to escape into the city for a chance to sulk. He was standing on a street corner, holding the light at red a little longer so that the people around him were beginning to grumble about the long wait for the crosswalk, when black, oily smoke began seeping up from the cracks in the pavement. It wove around his feet and twined it's way up his legs, tendrils leaving cold, damp sensations against his skin anywhere they touched. None of the mortals around him even gave it a second glance, human minds automatically adjusting to ignore the supernatural that they couldn't (or wouldn't) see, but Dem immediately felt his stomach turn. This wouldn't be good.
The smoke writhed ever higher until it reached his left hand. Swirling, it coalesced into something opaque and then, suddenly, it gained weight and mass, leaving him holding an envelope so black that it seemed to suck the light from the very air around it (Which it did. Gressil had come up with the idea a few months ago and, ever since it had gained approval, he'd been downright impossible to deal with).
He could have ignored it. Or, more accurately, he could have tried. But if he'd thrown it away, there was always the risk that they'd move from smoke to fire and, while it wouldn't kill him, a little unpleasant fog was greatly preferred to being scorched by hellfire, even superficially. So, there was nothing for it. He had to open it.
He'd been so distracted that he didn't even notice when the crosswalk finally blinked into action, released from his control. Didn't notice the crowd moving until a businessman bumped into him and made him realize that he'd let down the aura that made people automatically shy away from him. The scowl on the man's face did little to appease the sick feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
Sliding a finger under the seal, he forced the envelope open, revealing a neatly folded letter. It wasn't long. It didn't have to be. His grandfather's disappointment burned with every word (literally. As an archduke of Hell, Melchom had some very unpleasant abilities) and by the end, there was no questioning the fact that Dem was, in his mind, a failure at all things demonic. Never mind the honors he'd received in tempting and "blank." Never mind the curses his instructors had given him as he went through his training. No, according to Melchom, that Lewis fellow might as well have been predicting the future with those Screwtape Letters of his, if he'd only addressed them to the demon's grandson instead of his nephew and made him a bit more of a failure.
Dem had gotten on the bus then. It required less of his attention and it was easier to spark small bits of chaos to let off some steam while he tried to sort out his thoughts. One thing was for sure. He wasn't going to back to his subject. Even if Melchom hadn't all but disowned him, it was obvious that damning souls just wasn't for him. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure lurking around and making a nuisance of himself wasn't exactly an option and he probably only had a short while before they gave him something equally unpleasant to deal with.
He wasn't far off. He'd just about made his third circuit of the bus route, (a rather remarkable achievement considering that he'd caused an accident to happen awhile back that had the bus held up at an intersection for a solid hour earlier on in the afternoon), when that black smoke was back, leaking in to the bus’s interior through the cracks around the emergency door. As it began its creepy, slow approach, he waved an irritable hand through it. “Oh come on… just get it over with, already.”
The smoke seemed to hesitate and then, swirling almost angrily, it solidified into an envelope on the seat next to him. This time he didn't hesitate. After one scathing rebuke, he figured this one couldn't be much worse. Or... well... it could, but worrying about it wasn't going to do him any good. He might as well just get it over with.
Ripping this letter open so that the black envelop tore raggedly down the middle, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it. Decked in fancy, black font in an archaic style that was nearly impossible to read (part of the style... if it frustrated the demons intending to read it, the theory was that they would then pass that irritation on to the mortals around them), was a letter from the School of Demonic Tutelage.
Demorial,
It has come to our attention that your performance in regards to the soul of Anthony J. Rutherford has resulted in the unfortunate and undesirable failure towards corruption. As a result of such unsatisfactory results and at the request of your sponsor, you are to be removed from the school of damnation, effective immediately.
This being the first mark against you, you may apply again for a position in six week's time, pending approval of an advisory board and with the completion of forms
66-S and HEX-10.
Regardless of whether you choose to continue in this field or not, you are still required to complete Unholy Duties in accordance to the scale found in the student handbook provided for you at the beginning of your instruction. Your chosen means of Unholy Activities must be reported to your sponsor and/or instructors for approval at the earliest possible inconvenience.
Insincerely,
The School of Demonic Tutelage
About to crumple up the note, Dem paused as he realized there was a smaller piece of paper still tucked in the envelope. Suspicious, he pulled it free of the paper confines, looking it over. It was written in his grandfather’s much neater script, very sharp-edged and terse, and he could sense the disapproval dripping from the paper. But it at least it didn’t burn.
Demorial,
I am highly disappointed in your progress, but despite my existing shame, I cannot have you embarrassing me even further by failing to achieve your duties. Here is a task even you can't screw up (and believe me, I better not be wrong about that).
I expect to hear of your success soon.
Curses,
Melchom
And, scrawled on the bottom of the note, was a name, a description, and the briefest of explanations. One of Heaven’s Chosen Ones was on the move. A girl. And all he had to do was stop her.
It was nothing, busy work, but it was a task. It might mean leaving the city but, hey, she was headed for DC. There must be all kinds of interesting havoc he could cause in a capitol. Of course, that would only be if she managed to get that far which, as far as he was concerned, she wouldn’t.
His grandfather might have thought such a trivial task was an insult… but as far as Dem was concerned, this could be almost like a vacation. Because he really shouldn’t have any trouble dealing with one little girl.
In the seat ahead of him, a boy started bobbing his head to a new song on his iPod, humming softly and just slightly off-key to the tune of “Yellow Submarine.” Dem felt his eye twitch and, clenching his fingers slightly, there was a fantastic jerk as all four tires on the bus simultaneously went flat, throwing humming-boy forward so that his head knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, stunning him into silence.
Smiling to himself, Dem stood, unphased by the chaos as passengers picked themselves and their belongings up once more, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Ignoring them all, he strode easily down the aisle and out the door, past the stunned driver. He had a car to find.
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Chapter 5
You pursue her in mazes
Always one step behind
You change the world for her graces
But she keeps changing her mind
~Way of the Girl~
Chris Gains/Garth Brooks
Tired of her book, Kaleigh had taken to entertaining herself by staring out the window and keeping track of the states on the license plates passing by. Boredom hadn't progressed to the point of hunting down letters of the alphabet or counting mile markers, but it was getting close. With Ben still asleep and the music up too high to really have a conversation with James, she was left with Jules. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. They were best friends for a reason. But her friend's sour mood had only lifted a little and, as the hours carried them closer to midday, she seemed to be descending back into it.
"How long until we stop for food?" Jules asked, nudging the back of the driver's seat with her foot.
"I thought you were in a rush," James answered, glancing up to meet his sisters gaze in the rearview mirror.
"I am. But I'd like to not starve to death, either. You know... there is such a thing as a happy medium."
"So have a donut." James turned his head, looking around him for the box. "Who's got them?"
Kaleigh raised a hand, not looking away from the window. "I do."
Jules just made a face. "If I have another donut I think I'm going to be sick."
"What's wrong with donuts?"
"Nothing, if you've got real food to go with them. If I put any more sugary crap into my stomach I'll shake apart."
Turning her head to join in the conversation, Kaleigh piped up as well. "Actually, I'm seconding that one. I'm all for sugar, but if we don't get some real lunch I think my stomach's going to start protesting too."
James snorted. "Women... you seriously aren't built for travel."
Jules gave him a pointed look. "If by starving to death while our legs slowly shrivel and atrophy from lack of use, then no... we're not. No one is."
"Way to be dramatic, JuJu. You should have been a theater major."
"Ha ha. Very funny."
"Woah... look at that," Kaleigh interrupted. Her gaze had just gone back to the window in time to notice one of the cars driving past.
"Look at what?" James gave a cursory glance towards Kaleigh's side of the car, but mostly kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to look away from the moving traffic.
"In the Honda Civic. The red one. It should be coming into your view pretty quick. What do you think, James? Look familiar?"
James turned his head, slowing slightly to allow the Civic the chance to come up along side, and even Jules leaned forward, craning her neck to try and see what Kaleigh was talking about, especially when her brother gave a laugh. "Well, damn. If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't actually in the car with us, JuJu."
Kaleigh nodded. "Seriously... did you have a secret twin that your parents never told you about or something. She could be your double."
Jules was watching the girl in the other car curiously. The resemblance was pretty amazing. There were always those people who wanted to compare you to someone else, like matching which actor would play you if someone decided to turn your life into a Hollywood production, but it was always up for debate. This girl seriously could have been her twin though, right down the same hair cut. Her wavy, dark hair fell loose around her shoulders and she had the same shaped face... at least from a distance. Peering through a car window in the motion of traffic wasn't really the best way to do a point by point comparison. Still, it was impressive. "I always wanted a sister."
James was quiet a moment, before shaking his head. "Well, if its a double, she's clearly the upgrade."
Kaleigh arched an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Because she can drive. Woah, hey-!" He gave a start as one of the donut holes bounced off his head, courtesy of his sister.
Reaching into the box of donuts, Jules was already reaching to pull out another one as the first ricocheted into the passenger seat, landing on Brennan's chest and startling him awake. "What the hell?"
"Welcome back to the land of the conscious," James said as he controlled his swerve to the sound of Kaleigh laughing.
"What's going on?" Picking up the donut on his chest, chocolate glazed, Brennan gave it a cursory look before stuffing it into his mouth and speaking around the pastry. "Not that I mind food, but I was in the middle of a good dream."
"Jules is trying to kill us by making me crash."
"It seemed like the thing to do," Jules said sweetly.
Kaleigh piped up, laughter still tinging her voice. "It's probably her attempt to cover up the truth. We've discovered her clone, so now she has to kill us."
Raising his seat into an upright position, Brennan twisted around to give Kaleigh a questioning look. "A clone? What?" He rubbed his temples as if massaging away a headache. "I think I missed something."
"In the Civic. On your side. Just look."
Obeying, Brennan blinked blearily out the window, staring uncomprehendingly for a moment before it really sank in. When it did, he gave a low, clear whistle. "Well, damn. Jules 2.0 it is."
Jules gave her twin another considering look, though it was out of the corner of her eye. "We should probably stop staring at her. The poor girl's going to get freaked out having a car full of strangers checking her out."
Kaleigh grinned. "I don't know. I think it'd be kind of flattering."
"Only if you knew what they were saying is positive and not if you were wondering if they'd noticed something funny on your face or... whatever."
Brennan watched the strange car for awhile before nodding in approval. "She's moving pretty well. There... look at her go." Sure enough, as the group glanced back at the Civic, it moved to pass them, changing lanes to bypass a truck that they were rapidly approaching.
Jules smirked. "It's probably because she saw your face and decided to flee."
"I've been told that my incredible good looks have been known to scare off the ladies in the past."
"Right. Keep telling yourself that."
"I don't need to. I've got plenty of people doing that for me."
"Actually, Jules II's got a pretty good idea." Foot pressing down on the gas, James picked up the speed as well. "She's finding a path pretty well for sharing genetics with JuJu."
Kaleigh laughed. "If you start tailing her she really is going to get freaked out."
"It's not like we're going to follow her anywhere specific. It's an expressway. We don't have a lot of options on directions, here."
Brennan shrugged. "And most likely, she's local. We're crossing multiple states. We are the very definition of interstate travel. Odds are she'll leave us behind pretty quick."
Kaleigh shrugged. "You never know. She could be going to DC, too."
Jules laughed. "Now that would just be too weird."
Brennan nodded... and then paused, one hand pressing to his stomach. "Actually, that donut made me hungry. We got any more of those?"
Jules made a face, but Kaleigh picked up the box and passed it to him. "Go for it. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who wants them."
James turned his head just slightly, ready to respond, but whatever answering reply he had planned for his sister was cut off as Brennan reached over to punch his arm. "Woah, man. Look."
Glancing back at the road, James's eyes narrowed. "Shit." Slamming on the breaks, they all jerked slightly as he came to a hasty stop behind the car behind them. "Where the hell did this come from?"
"Nice driving," Jules muttered, uncomfortably shrugging off the tightened restraint of her seat belt, forcing it to loosen.
Kaleigh was leaning forward, trying to see further down the road. "Is there an accident? This was kind of sudden."
James frowned. "No idea. We were moving pretty quick. I don't know what happened."
Brennan was silent, watching the cars as they moved forward at a slower pace, considering. "Maybe check the radio for a traffic report. If we can figure out a useful station around here."
Nodding, James hit the button to switch the frequency from FM to AM and began tracking, moving past several commercials and what appeared to be some kind of religious broadcast before landing on a news station. It was scratchy, but understandable, and he turned up the volume so they could hear it better. "Maybe they'll switch to traffic soon."
Leaning back in their seats, the girls settled for staring out the window. As they inched forward, Jules found herself staring at the back of her doppleganger's car, taking in the Mississippi liscense plate and the "Got Music?" bumper sticker. The civic seemed in decent condition, but it was obviously an older model, small spots of rust decorating the edges of the metal work. It was the kind of car that, had she had one of her own, Jules might have actually bought. How was that even possible?
A groan from the driver's seat caught her attention. "Not an accident. Construction." Leaning forward against the steering wheel, he pointed at a shock of orange that was appearing as the road began to curve slightly. "You can see the cones up ahead."
"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Kaleigh said, trying to be hopeful, but that was when the radio station switched over to traffic. On unfamiliar roads, the fast paced jumble of the traffic announcers monologue was a blur of hard to follow information, but they managed to catch enough to realize that this was no small construction project. Phrases like "narrowed lanes," "backed up," and "hour delay," made them all groan.
Brennan was the most laid back about it. "Well, nothing for it. Guess all we can do is sit it out."
Jules grimaced. "Uh uh... I'm not spending an hour in this car getting nowhere. If we're going to be delayed anyway, we might as well get some food. And don't even suggest the donuts," she said, glaring into the rearview mirror and stopping her brother in the process of opening his mouth to respond.
Kaleigh, less sharp but just as insistant, joined her. "Yeah. I know it's the whole manly pride, going as long as you can and all that, but food would be good right about now."
James glanced back over the traffic, now slowing to an almost complete stand still. Up ahead, he could see the corner of a blinking, orange arrow, telling drivers to merge into the left hand lane. "Alright, fine. Next exit we'll get off and find some food."
"Where's your atlas?" Brennan asked.
"In the backseat. I put it on the back dash."
"I've got it," Kaleigh said, twisting in her seat to pick it up and pass it forward.
"If we're getting off anyway, we might as well find another route. I don't think a McDonald's break is going to be long enough to make this mess go away," Brennan said, beginning to flip through pages.
"We passed an exit for.... Route.... something or other. Twenty something. The town was Williams Grove," James supplied.
Brennan nodded, finger trailing across the page. "Yeah. Think I got it. How long ago was that?”
James shrugged. “About five minutes ago? Maybe ten? I haven’t seen another exit.”
"There should be another exit coming up in a few miles."
Jules groaned. "A few miles? In this?"
Brennan shrugged. "That's what it looks like. Don't shoot the messanger."
With them inching along, those three miles seemed even longer than they would have usually. Turning the music back to the local rock station, they tapped their fingers and feet to the rhythm and tried not to get too irritable as they inched forward. As Jules became more and more antsy, Kaleigh nudged her lightly with an elbow.
"Chill. It's not like we're in a rush."
Jules shot her a pointed look... and then sighed. Her voice was quiet under the music when she spoke. "I know. I'm just... I don't even know."
"Eh... you're hungry. We all are, I bet. Even if the boys won't admit it. We'll be better once we can get some food into us."
"You're probably right."
"I'm always right," Kaleigh said with a grin, flicking a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes.
"Like hell you are," but it had Jules smiling, muscles relaxing slowly as she leaned back in her seat.
Finally, the next exit appeared, a lonely stretch of road that didn't appear to lead towards any sign of civilization... but at least there wasn't a line of cars waiting for them here. As they swung off onto the exit ramp, Brennan gave a low whistle, staring at the traffic jam they'd just abandoned. "Glad we're not waiting through all of that."
James nodded. "No kidding." Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he smirked. "Say goodbye to Jules 2.0, guys."
Kaleigh sighed. "Damn. You know, I kind of hope she is going to the same place. It would just be perfect."
"It'd be creepy," Jules said.
"Yeah, but the good kind of creepy."
"There is no good kind of creepy."
"Sure there is," James interrupted. "It just needs to be well done."
Jules gave a mock shudder. "You're both mental." She sighed. "How long until we reach a McDonalds or Taco Bell or something?"
James shrugged. "No idea. Guess we'll just have to see."
"Glad we have a map at least, instead of a GPS. We can actually find our way," Brennan interjected.
"You can find your way with a GPS, too," Kaleigh said.
Brennan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you want it to just tell you to get back on the expressway." He tapped a finger against the atlas. "This is how you do a real road trip."
Jules arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell us about the glories of sleeping outside, hunting for your own food and cooking it over an open flame, too?"
"After walking uphill both ways, through the snow in my bare feet," he added with a smirk.
Kaleigh just shrugged, kicking off her shoes and drawing her feet under her on her seat. "As long as, at some point, s'mores are involved."
"Fair enough," Brennan said.
Fingers tapping against the steering wheel, James just shook his head, head bobbing to the music as he tuned out the banter. They were off the predicted road, but they were still moving. That was good enough.
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I'll just have to post up the chapters into December. After all, it'd be a shame to have this be the first year I didn't post on this NaNo. It's for posterity... or something.
Thank god.
The characters have become identical shells, the plot has holes big enough to sink the titanic, and I've stopped looking for song lyrics at the beginnings of chapters because it takes too long... but the writing is still coming, and that's all that matters.
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Chapter 4
Make your decision and don't you dare think twice
go with your instincts along with some bad advice
this didn't turn out the way I thought it would at all
you blame me, but some of this is still your fault
~Which to Bury; Us or the Hatchet~
Reliant K
Dem slouched in his seat on the bus, headphones drowning out the low sounds of public chatter going on around him. It was a dreary, sodden day, the kind where the air is thick with humidity so that your clothes stick to your skin, but where the rain never quite comes, other than the occasional, dismal drizzle that serves only to dampen your clothes and make you even more miserable than before. It was the kind of day that would normally have been incredibly satisfying for the young demon, soaking up the auras of all the frustrated people around him as they rushed to and from their commutes. It was the kind of imperfect he wished he’d planned.
But, even if he had, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to shake the scathing rebuke he’d gotten earlier that morning. His face darkened just thinking about it, and his shoulders slouched a little more. From the corner of his eye, he caught an elderly woman giving him a disapproving glance and he made sure to glower in her direction. Let her go home and fume about the disgraceful state of today's youth and maybe, in her bad mood, take it out on her own children.
Dem squinted at her. Never mind. Her neighbor's children, then. That'd be bad enough.
Still, it was small compared to the screw up that had occurred.... and the worst of it was that it wasn't even his fault. Not really. As far as screw ups go, it should have been mild... except he was Melchom's grandson. And, when living up to the infamy of a demon like Melchom, you didn't do screw ups, mild or otherwise.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried. Damning souls wasn't really his thing. He preferred a broader approach. But there'd been an opening and, other than the few complaints he was obligated to make, he'd really given it a go. It should have been an open and shut case, too. The human he'd watched had the mental capacity of a gold fish and it had been easy to lay all the clues out to watch them stumble blindly into all manner of conspiracy theories. Paranoid and desperate to fit in, Dem's subject had happily gone along with the anti-establishment messages Dem left for him, until he'd come up with the coup de gracie. It was pretty cliche, the idea of satanic messages being recorded on an album, if you listened to it backwards, but there were still some people who went in for that sort of thing and, if you could find some sap stupid enough to be swayed by it, it was always good for a laugh.
Which was his problem, really. He'd been trying to break the boredom of the same old routine by adding a little bit of interest, only it had all gone wrong.
Sure, he'd planted the suggestion to get the album. He'd let his subject stumble across all the clues about playing it backwards and the powers associated with it. He'd even managed to get him in the right circle of friends, who impressed upon him the undeniable truth and power of all things media. It was a trinity of ignorance that was kind of amazing to behold.
Except, he hadn't expected his subject to miss the whole point. Rather than listening to the album backwards, he'd listened to it forwards. Over. And over. And over. And by the time he'd finished, three things had happened.
One, Dem's subject had developed a sickening infatuation with the Beatles.
Two, he'd decided to adopt the philosophy that "All You Need is Love," and donate all of his worldly possessions to charity.
And, three, Dem was pretty sure he'd throw up if he ever heard another British pop song at any point in his immortal life.
As far as he was concerned, that should be penalty enough. I mean, really, there are only so many times you can hear "Hey Jude" without beginning to question your sanity (and without kind of suspecting that some other demon must have been behind the success of a group that only knew three chords in their collective experience). But he seemed to be the only one with that opinion.
Leaving his subject's consciousness, in desperate need to get away as he switched to the Abbey Road album he'd bought that morning, Dem had tried to escape into the city for a chance to sulk. He was standing on a street corner, holding the light at red a little longer so that the people around him were beginning to grumble about the long wait for the crosswalk, when black, oily smoke began seeping up from the cracks in the pavement. It wove around his feet and twined it's way up his legs, tendrils leaving cold, damp sensations against his skin anywhere they touched. None of the mortals around him even gave it a second glance, human minds automatically adjusting to ignore the supernatural that they couldn't (or wouldn't) see, but Dem immediately felt his stomach turn. This wouldn't be good.
The smoke writhed ever higher until it reached his left hand. Swirling, it coalesced into something opaque and then, suddenly, it gained weight and mass, leaving him holding an envelope so black that it seemed to suck the light from the very air around it (Which it did. Gressil had come up with the idea a few months ago and, ever since it had gained approval, he'd been downright impossible to deal with).
He could have ignored it. Or, more accurately, he could have tried. But if he'd thrown it away, there was always the risk that they'd move from smoke to fire and, while it wouldn't kill him, a little unpleasant fog was greatly preferred to being scorched by hellfire, even superficially. So, there was nothing for it. He had to open it.
He'd been so distracted that he didn't even notice when the crosswalk finally blinked into action, released from his control. Didn't notice the crowd moving until a businessman bumped into him and made him realize that he'd let down the aura that made people automatically shy away from him. The scowl on the man's face did little to appease the sick feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
Sliding a finger under the seal, he forced the envelope open, revealing a neatly folded letter. It wasn't long. It didn't have to be. His grandfather's disappointment burned with every word (literally. As an archduke of Hell, Melchom had some very unpleasant abilities) and by the end, there was no questioning the fact that Dem was, in his mind, a failure at all things demonic. Never mind the honors he'd received in tempting and "blank." Never mind the curses his instructors had given him as he went through his training. No, according to Melchom, that Lewis fellow might as well have been predicting the future with those Screwtape Letters of his, if he'd only addressed them to the demon's grandson instead of his nephew and made him a bit more of a failure.
Dem had gotten on the bus then. It required less of his attention and it was easier to spark small bits of chaos to let off some steam while he tried to sort out his thoughts. One thing was for sure. He wasn't going to back to his subject. Even if Melchom hadn't all but disowned him, it was obvious that damning souls just wasn't for him. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure lurking around and making a nuisance of himself wasn't exactly an option and he probably only had a short while before they gave him something equally unpleasant to deal with.
He wasn't far off. He'd just about made his third circuit of the bus route, (a rather remarkable achievement considering that he'd caused an accident to happen awhile back that had the bus held up at an intersection for a solid hour earlier on in the afternoon), when that black smoke was back, leaking in to the bus’s interior through the cracks around the emergency door. As it began its creepy, slow approach, he waved an irritable hand through it. “Oh come on… just get it over with, already.”
The smoke seemed to hesitate and then, swirling almost angrily, it solidified into an envelope on the seat next to him. This time he didn't hesitate. After one scathing rebuke, he figured this one couldn't be much worse. Or... well... it could, but worrying about it wasn't going to do him any good. He might as well just get it over with.
Ripping this letter open so that the black envelop tore raggedly down the middle, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it. Decked in fancy, black font in an archaic style that was nearly impossible to read (part of the style... if it frustrated the demons intending to read it, the theory was that they would then pass that irritation on to the mortals around them), was a letter from the School of Demonic Tutelage.
Demorial,
It has come to our attention that your performance in regards to the soul of Anthony J. Rutherford has resulted in the unfortunate and undesirable failure towards corruption. As a result of such unsatisfactory results and at the request of your sponsor, you are to be removed from the school of damnation, effective immediately.
This being the first mark against you, you may apply again for a position in six week's time, pending approval of an advisory board and with the completion of forms
66-S and HEX-10.
Regardless of whether you choose to continue in this field or not, you are still required to complete Unholy Duties in accordance to the scale found in the student handbook provided for you at the beginning of your instruction. Your chosen means of Unholy Activities must be reported to your sponsor and/or instructors for approval at the earliest possible inconvenience.
Insincerely,
The School of Demonic Tutelage
About to crumple up the note, Dem paused as he realized there was a smaller piece of paper still tucked in the envelope. Suspicious, he pulled it free of the paper confines, looking it over. It was written in his grandfather’s much neater script, very sharp-edged and terse, and he could sense the disapproval dripping from the paper. But it at least it didn’t burn.
Demorial,
I am highly disappointed in your progress, but despite my existing shame, I cannot have you embarrassing me even further by failing to achieve your duties. Here is a task even you can't screw up (and believe me, I better not be wrong about that).
I expect to hear of your success soon.
Curses,
Melchom
And, scrawled on the bottom of the note, was a name, a description, and the briefest of explanations. One of Heaven’s Chosen Ones was on the move. A girl. And all he had to do was stop her.
It was nothing, busy work, but it was a task. It might mean leaving the city but, hey, she was headed for DC. There must be all kinds of interesting havoc he could cause in a capitol. Of course, that would only be if she managed to get that far which, as far as he was concerned, she wouldn’t.
His grandfather might have thought such a trivial task was an insult… but as far as Dem was concerned, this could be almost like a vacation. Because he really shouldn’t have any trouble dealing with one little girl.
In the seat ahead of him, a boy started bobbing his head to a new song on his iPod, humming softly and just slightly off-key to the tune of “Yellow Submarine.” Dem felt his eye twitch and, clenching his fingers slightly, there was a fantastic jerk as all four tires on the bus simultaneously went flat, throwing humming-boy forward so that his head knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, stunning him into silence.
Smiling to himself, Dem stood, unphased by the chaos as passengers picked themselves and their belongings up once more, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Ignoring them all, he strode easily down the aisle and out the door, past the stunned driver. He had a car to find.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 5
You pursue her in mazes
Always one step behind
You change the world for her graces
But she keeps changing her mind
~Way of the Girl~
Chris Gains/Garth Brooks
Tired of her book, Kaleigh had taken to entertaining herself by staring out the window and keeping track of the states on the license plates passing by. Boredom hadn't progressed to the point of hunting down letters of the alphabet or counting mile markers, but it was getting close. With Ben still asleep and the music up too high to really have a conversation with James, she was left with Jules. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. They were best friends for a reason. But her friend's sour mood had only lifted a little and, as the hours carried them closer to midday, she seemed to be descending back into it.
"How long until we stop for food?" Jules asked, nudging the back of the driver's seat with her foot.
"I thought you were in a rush," James answered, glancing up to meet his sisters gaze in the rearview mirror.
"I am. But I'd like to not starve to death, either. You know... there is such a thing as a happy medium."
"So have a donut." James turned his head, looking around him for the box. "Who's got them?"
Kaleigh raised a hand, not looking away from the window. "I do."
Jules just made a face. "If I have another donut I think I'm going to be sick."
"What's wrong with donuts?"
"Nothing, if you've got real food to go with them. If I put any more sugary crap into my stomach I'll shake apart."
Turning her head to join in the conversation, Kaleigh piped up as well. "Actually, I'm seconding that one. I'm all for sugar, but if we don't get some real lunch I think my stomach's going to start protesting too."
James snorted. "Women... you seriously aren't built for travel."
Jules gave him a pointed look. "If by starving to death while our legs slowly shrivel and atrophy from lack of use, then no... we're not. No one is."
"Way to be dramatic, JuJu. You should have been a theater major."
"Ha ha. Very funny."
"Woah... look at that," Kaleigh interrupted. Her gaze had just gone back to the window in time to notice one of the cars driving past.
"Look at what?" James gave a cursory glance towards Kaleigh's side of the car, but mostly kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to look away from the moving traffic.
"In the Honda Civic. The red one. It should be coming into your view pretty quick. What do you think, James? Look familiar?"
James turned his head, slowing slightly to allow the Civic the chance to come up along side, and even Jules leaned forward, craning her neck to try and see what Kaleigh was talking about, especially when her brother gave a laugh. "Well, damn. If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't actually in the car with us, JuJu."
Kaleigh nodded. "Seriously... did you have a secret twin that your parents never told you about or something. She could be your double."
Jules was watching the girl in the other car curiously. The resemblance was pretty amazing. There were always those people who wanted to compare you to someone else, like matching which actor would play you if someone decided to turn your life into a Hollywood production, but it was always up for debate. This girl seriously could have been her twin though, right down the same hair cut. Her wavy, dark hair fell loose around her shoulders and she had the same shaped face... at least from a distance. Peering through a car window in the motion of traffic wasn't really the best way to do a point by point comparison. Still, it was impressive. "I always wanted a sister."
James was quiet a moment, before shaking his head. "Well, if its a double, she's clearly the upgrade."
Kaleigh arched an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Because she can drive. Woah, hey-!" He gave a start as one of the donut holes bounced off his head, courtesy of his sister.
Reaching into the box of donuts, Jules was already reaching to pull out another one as the first ricocheted into the passenger seat, landing on Brennan's chest and startling him awake. "What the hell?"
"Welcome back to the land of the conscious," James said as he controlled his swerve to the sound of Kaleigh laughing.
"What's going on?" Picking up the donut on his chest, chocolate glazed, Brennan gave it a cursory look before stuffing it into his mouth and speaking around the pastry. "Not that I mind food, but I was in the middle of a good dream."
"Jules is trying to kill us by making me crash."
"It seemed like the thing to do," Jules said sweetly.
Kaleigh piped up, laughter still tinging her voice. "It's probably her attempt to cover up the truth. We've discovered her clone, so now she has to kill us."
Raising his seat into an upright position, Brennan twisted around to give Kaleigh a questioning look. "A clone? What?" He rubbed his temples as if massaging away a headache. "I think I missed something."
"In the Civic. On your side. Just look."
Obeying, Brennan blinked blearily out the window, staring uncomprehendingly for a moment before it really sank in. When it did, he gave a low, clear whistle. "Well, damn. Jules 2.0 it is."
Jules gave her twin another considering look, though it was out of the corner of her eye. "We should probably stop staring at her. The poor girl's going to get freaked out having a car full of strangers checking her out."
Kaleigh grinned. "I don't know. I think it'd be kind of flattering."
"Only if you knew what they were saying is positive and not if you were wondering if they'd noticed something funny on your face or... whatever."
Brennan watched the strange car for awhile before nodding in approval. "She's moving pretty well. There... look at her go." Sure enough, as the group glanced back at the Civic, it moved to pass them, changing lanes to bypass a truck that they were rapidly approaching.
Jules smirked. "It's probably because she saw your face and decided to flee."
"I've been told that my incredible good looks have been known to scare off the ladies in the past."
"Right. Keep telling yourself that."
"I don't need to. I've got plenty of people doing that for me."
"Actually, Jules II's got a pretty good idea." Foot pressing down on the gas, James picked up the speed as well. "She's finding a path pretty well for sharing genetics with JuJu."
Kaleigh laughed. "If you start tailing her she really is going to get freaked out."
"It's not like we're going to follow her anywhere specific. It's an expressway. We don't have a lot of options on directions, here."
Brennan shrugged. "And most likely, she's local. We're crossing multiple states. We are the very definition of interstate travel. Odds are she'll leave us behind pretty quick."
Kaleigh shrugged. "You never know. She could be going to DC, too."
Jules laughed. "Now that would just be too weird."
Brennan nodded... and then paused, one hand pressing to his stomach. "Actually, that donut made me hungry. We got any more of those?"
Jules made a face, but Kaleigh picked up the box and passed it to him. "Go for it. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who wants them."
James turned his head just slightly, ready to respond, but whatever answering reply he had planned for his sister was cut off as Brennan reached over to punch his arm. "Woah, man. Look."
Glancing back at the road, James's eyes narrowed. "Shit." Slamming on the breaks, they all jerked slightly as he came to a hasty stop behind the car behind them. "Where the hell did this come from?"
"Nice driving," Jules muttered, uncomfortably shrugging off the tightened restraint of her seat belt, forcing it to loosen.
Kaleigh was leaning forward, trying to see further down the road. "Is there an accident? This was kind of sudden."
James frowned. "No idea. We were moving pretty quick. I don't know what happened."
Brennan was silent, watching the cars as they moved forward at a slower pace, considering. "Maybe check the radio for a traffic report. If we can figure out a useful station around here."
Nodding, James hit the button to switch the frequency from FM to AM and began tracking, moving past several commercials and what appeared to be some kind of religious broadcast before landing on a news station. It was scratchy, but understandable, and he turned up the volume so they could hear it better. "Maybe they'll switch to traffic soon."
Leaning back in their seats, the girls settled for staring out the window. As they inched forward, Jules found herself staring at the back of her doppleganger's car, taking in the Mississippi liscense plate and the "Got Music?" bumper sticker. The civic seemed in decent condition, but it was obviously an older model, small spots of rust decorating the edges of the metal work. It was the kind of car that, had she had one of her own, Jules might have actually bought. How was that even possible?
A groan from the driver's seat caught her attention. "Not an accident. Construction." Leaning forward against the steering wheel, he pointed at a shock of orange that was appearing as the road began to curve slightly. "You can see the cones up ahead."
"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Kaleigh said, trying to be hopeful, but that was when the radio station switched over to traffic. On unfamiliar roads, the fast paced jumble of the traffic announcers monologue was a blur of hard to follow information, but they managed to catch enough to realize that this was no small construction project. Phrases like "narrowed lanes," "backed up," and "hour delay," made them all groan.
Brennan was the most laid back about it. "Well, nothing for it. Guess all we can do is sit it out."
Jules grimaced. "Uh uh... I'm not spending an hour in this car getting nowhere. If we're going to be delayed anyway, we might as well get some food. And don't even suggest the donuts," she said, glaring into the rearview mirror and stopping her brother in the process of opening his mouth to respond.
Kaleigh, less sharp but just as insistant, joined her. "Yeah. I know it's the whole manly pride, going as long as you can and all that, but food would be good right about now."
James glanced back over the traffic, now slowing to an almost complete stand still. Up ahead, he could see the corner of a blinking, orange arrow, telling drivers to merge into the left hand lane. "Alright, fine. Next exit we'll get off and find some food."
"Where's your atlas?" Brennan asked.
"In the backseat. I put it on the back dash."
"I've got it," Kaleigh said, twisting in her seat to pick it up and pass it forward.
"If we're getting off anyway, we might as well find another route. I don't think a McDonald's break is going to be long enough to make this mess go away," Brennan said, beginning to flip through pages.
"We passed an exit for.... Route.... something or other. Twenty something. The town was Williams Grove," James supplied.
Brennan nodded, finger trailing across the page. "Yeah. Think I got it. How long ago was that?”
James shrugged. “About five minutes ago? Maybe ten? I haven’t seen another exit.”
"There should be another exit coming up in a few miles."
Jules groaned. "A few miles? In this?"
Brennan shrugged. "That's what it looks like. Don't shoot the messanger."
With them inching along, those three miles seemed even longer than they would have usually. Turning the music back to the local rock station, they tapped their fingers and feet to the rhythm and tried not to get too irritable as they inched forward. As Jules became more and more antsy, Kaleigh nudged her lightly with an elbow.
"Chill. It's not like we're in a rush."
Jules shot her a pointed look... and then sighed. Her voice was quiet under the music when she spoke. "I know. I'm just... I don't even know."
"Eh... you're hungry. We all are, I bet. Even if the boys won't admit it. We'll be better once we can get some food into us."
"You're probably right."
"I'm always right," Kaleigh said with a grin, flicking a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes.
"Like hell you are," but it had Jules smiling, muscles relaxing slowly as she leaned back in her seat.
Finally, the next exit appeared, a lonely stretch of road that didn't appear to lead towards any sign of civilization... but at least there wasn't a line of cars waiting for them here. As they swung off onto the exit ramp, Brennan gave a low whistle, staring at the traffic jam they'd just abandoned. "Glad we're not waiting through all of that."
James nodded. "No kidding." Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he smirked. "Say goodbye to Jules 2.0, guys."
Kaleigh sighed. "Damn. You know, I kind of hope she is going to the same place. It would just be perfect."
"It'd be creepy," Jules said.
"Yeah, but the good kind of creepy."
"There is no good kind of creepy."
"Sure there is," James interrupted. "It just needs to be well done."
Jules gave a mock shudder. "You're both mental." She sighed. "How long until we reach a McDonalds or Taco Bell or something?"
James shrugged. "No idea. Guess we'll just have to see."
"Glad we have a map at least, instead of a GPS. We can actually find our way," Brennan interjected.
"You can find your way with a GPS, too," Kaleigh said.
Brennan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you want it to just tell you to get back on the expressway." He tapped a finger against the atlas. "This is how you do a real road trip."
Jules arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell us about the glories of sleeping outside, hunting for your own food and cooking it over an open flame, too?"
"After walking uphill both ways, through the snow in my bare feet," he added with a smirk.
Kaleigh just shrugged, kicking off her shoes and drawing her feet under her on her seat. "As long as, at some point, s'mores are involved."
"Fair enough," Brennan said.
Fingers tapping against the steering wheel, James just shook his head, head bobbing to the music as he tuned out the banter. They were off the predicted road, but they were still moving. That was good enough.
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I'll just have to post up the chapters into December. After all, it'd be a shame to have this be the first year I didn't post on this NaNo. It's for posterity... or something.