Shaking my head, I heat up my ramen, then change into a pair of fuzzy red-and-black plaid pajamas and a pair of thick socks. Night has fallen, and rain patters on the rooftops. It’s the kind of weather that makes you want to curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a good book, but I settle for sitting at the table with my cup of noodles and my textbooks instead.
I open up my sketchbook, intent on ripping out my demonic doodle and starting over again. But the sight of the grinning skull draws me in, and I find myself staring at it, wondering what it can mean. Usually when I draw an image repeatedly like this, it’s a prelude to a ghostly encounter. But even though I’ve run across some pretty grisly-looking apparitions, they’ve all looked human. This thing…could it really be a demon?
“Don’t be silly,” I say to myself. I rip the page out of my sketchbook, open up my textbook, and begin sketching the outline of the building I’m supposed to be drawing a schematic for. I should be graduating from Columbia University with an architecture degree this semester, but I had to take some time off to pull as much overtime at work as possible to be able to afford rent. While Dad did set up a college fund for me, most of the life insurance I’d gotten went to settle debts and medical bills, leaving very little for me to live off.
I’ve been able to see ghosts since I was twelve years old, and Dad always believed me. Demons, however…I think he’d tell me exactly what I’m thinking. I’m nineteen now, and if I haven’t run across a demon in a whole decade, chances are they don’t exist. At least not on this plane, anyway. Maybe this portent just wasn’t meant to be taken literally.
An hour passes, then another, as I steadily work through my homework assignments. To my relief, my drawings behave themselves, and before I know it, I’m nearly done. I’m just finishing up the last question on my statistics homework when lightning flashes outside my window, and the power abruptly shuts off.
“Dammit.” I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight. The little light is enough to illuminate the paper, and I quickly jot down the rest of the answer, then rise from my chair. I open the door and peer down the hall, seeing the lights are out. The power must be out in the whole building.
“Cass,” I call to the empty room as I put my books away and prepare to settle down for the night. I know she’s not here, but I’m positive my voice carries through the ether somehow, as she often comes when I call her. “Can you come back, please? I’m about to head to bed.”
There’s no answer, and Cass doesn’t materialize. I want to shrug it off and go brush my teeth—as a ghost, the storm can’t hurt her, so there’s no need to worry. But the foreboding feeling from earlier this afternoon is back, an itch between my shoulders I can’t scratch. My stomach starts to grow leaden again, and I know that if I go to bed like this, I’ll toss and turn all night, unable to sleep.
“Fine,” I grumble to myself as I shrug a raincoat on over my pajamas. It’s dark outside and the streets are empty—there’s no need to change into real clothes. I shove my fuzzy socks into a pair of rainboots, grab my taser, then head downstairs.
The moment I step outside, another bolt of lightning arcs across the sky. Thunder crashes overhead as I hurry up the street, clutching my weapon inside my pocket as the rain pelts my face. Why does Cass have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she just pop back home for a second to reassure me she was all right?
I make it to the end of the first block when I hear something that stops me in my tracks—a blood-curdling scream. The scream is followed by a loud roar that freezes my blood, and my galoshes root themselves to the spot, refusing to carry me any further.
Turn back,a voice whispers in my head.Turn back now, before it’s too late!
Another scream pierces the air, and this time I recognize the voice—Cassandra. The sound galvanizes me into action, and I race through the sheets of pouring rain, heading for the source. What’s happening? I think frantically. What could possibly be going on out there that would scare aghost?
Another bolt of lightning lights up the sky as I make it to the third block, illuminating the scene before me with stark clarity. Cassandra is backed against the front of the shop, her body frozen, mouth open in a silent scream. My world slides out from beneath my feet as I see what she’s staring at—a twenty-foot-tall monster with a skull head, curling ram’s horns, a bulging, muscular body, and furry legs that bend backwards into cloven hooves. The two vertical red stripes that slash across its bone-white face seal the deal for me. This is the creature I’ve been sketching.
The demon.
The creature takes a step forward, pulling his arm back as if he’s preparing to strike. I grab my taser and begin to run forward, hoping the electrical current will have some effect on it. I don’t know how, but I know it in my soul that this thing has the power to hurt Cassandra. It doesn’t matter that she’s already dead—I can’t stand by and do nothing.
But before I can test out my taser, a dark figure leaps from the top of the building. The demon and I both turn our heads to the sky to watch as it comes down, swinging a long, curved blade through the air—was that a scythe? The blade connects with the demon’s shoulder, slicing diagonally. It makes it nearly halfway through the demon’s chest before the demon grabs the figure. The figure screams as the demon squeezes him in his fist, hard enough to pulverize every bone in his body, before sending him flying in my direction.
I cry out as the dark figure slams into the ground, skidding to the asphalt right by my feet. Looking down, I see that he’s a young man, probably around my age, wearing a black cloak. His hair is plastered to his head by the rain, his eyes squeezed shut in agony. Beneath the cloak he’s got on a red vest over a white button-up shirt and a red-and-white striped tie, paired with black pants and shoes. Something about it reminds me of a prep school uniform…but this guy is too old to be in prep school. Who the hell is he?
I don’t have time to figure that out, though. Ahead, the demon roars in pain as it pulls the scythe out and tosses it away. It clatters to the ground a few feet from Cass, who makes no move to take it. She’s still frozen with terror…and maybe something else, I wonder as I take a closer look. Is it a trick of the light, or does she seem more transparent than usual?
“Cass!” I scream as I step over the guy’s body, trying to get her attention. There’s no way this good Samaritan survived such a crushing blow—his ghost will pop up any second now if he hasn’t gone to the afterlife already. “Cass, you need to run!”
The demon swivels its head toward me with sudden interest, sending another wash of fear over me. At the same time, a cold hand clamps around my ankle. “You—” a voice croaks, and I look down to see the man staring up at me, his face contorted with pain. His eyes, a striking ocean blue, are wide with astonishment. “You can see me?”
“Of course I can see you,” I snap. Why wouldn’t I be able to?
“You need to run!” he shouts, struggling to push himself up. The rain has plastered his shirt to his skin, allowing me to see his bulging muscles as they strain with effort. It might have been hot if the situation hadn’t been so dire.
“Not a chance.” I rip my gaze away and turn back to Cass. “I have to save my friend.”
“S-she’s caught”—the man coughs painfully—“in the demon’s snare. Nothing you can do. Save—yourself—”
But the demon has taken a step toward me, its red eyes firmly fixed on me. “Too late for that,” I growl, making a split-second decision. Whatever power the demon seems to have over Cass doesn’t affect me, so I wait until it gets close enough, then dart between its enormous legs and go for the weapon lying on the sidewalk.
“Run away!” the man bellows over the pounding rain. “There’s no use—you can’t—”
Ignoring him, I grab the scythe’s handle. The moment my hand makes contact with it, a golden light erupts from it, searing my eyes. Cassandra gasps—the first sound she’s made since being pinned in place by the demon—but I hardly register the sound as energy floods my body. I’ve never been much of a fighter, but suddenly I feel powerful, invincible, as if I can take on ten linebackers at once and win—
“Addy!” Cassandra cries. “Look at the scythe in your hand!”
I look—and my jaw drops. The blade has quadrupled in size, and is now the length and breadth of my entire body. It should be impossible to hold upright, much less swing, but for some reason the weapon doesn’t feel heavy at all. I give it an experimental swing, and it makes a whistling sound through the air as it cuts through the rain.
