Misfit (8 page)

“Release the mortals, Philotanus,” said Astarte, “or be destroyed.”

“Your weakness for these cattle sickens me,” said Philotanus.

“When Belial hears of it, he wil punish you severely.”

“Belial and the other Grand Dukes are nothing but usurpers. They have no right to claim mastery over me or any other demon.”

“The Grand Dukes were invested with their power by the authority of Lucifer Himself!” said Philotanus.

Astarte gazed at him for a moment. “You real y do believe Belial’s lies, then, don’t you Philotanus? You have forgotten that we weren’t always like this. Once we were glorious.”

“We were fools,” said Philotanus, and spat.

“The Grand Dukes have you, then,” she said, her eyes sorrowful. “Completely.”

“They have us al ,” he said. “Even if you are too stubborn to accept it yet.”

She sighed, her eyes trailing off to stare at nothing for a moment. Then she flexed her shoulder. Amon began to howl, but it was cut short into a gurgle as she hauled a yard of intestines out. He shuddered convulsively and fel to the floor.

“That was foolish,” said Philotanus. “Now these mortals wil die.”

“No,” said Astarte quietly, “you wil .”

Her eyes met Paul’s and she nodded.

That was the signal he had been waiting for. He pul ed a long silver-bladed crucifix from a sheath strapped to his thigh and plunged it into the round bel y behind him. He heard a retching sound, and putrid black bile splashed his back. He ignored that and sawed slowly upward while whispering, “Memento, homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris!” Remember, man, you are dust and to dust you shal return.

Philotanus released his grip, trying to escape, but Paul spun around, the prayer growing to a roar on his lips as he struck the demon with al his might. Paul could smel the corruption on this one. He was a schemer, a torturer, and a molester of children. Paul worked without pause, hacking away with his bladed crucifix, letting his loathing and hatred fuel each blow until final y there was nothing left but quivering chunks of demon flesh.

“Paul.” Astarte’s voice penetrated through his rage.

“Enough. He won’t be coming back.”

Paul stopped, his breath whistling harshly though clenched teeth. As his peripheral vision returned, he could see Poujean looking at him in horror. He ignored it and instead looked to Astarte. “Amon escaped,” he said in a flat voice, and pointed with his dripping, bladed crucifix at the spot where only a smal pile of intestines remained.

“It wil take him a long time to heal from that,” said Astarte in a soothing voice. “And in the meantime, he wil suffer quite a lot.”

Paul grunted. Then he pointed his crucifix at the possessed, who was stil chained to the bed, eyes wide. “What about him?”

Astarte looked over at the possessed, her face neutral. “What about him?” she asked.

“The penalty for forcibly possessing a mortal,” he said, “is destruction.”

Astarte continued to look at Asmodeus. He looked back at her through the mortal frame that held him prisoner. His eyes were now dark and deep and empty, like the night sky.

“Wil you let him speak for a moment?” she asked Paul.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded curtly, then made the sign of the cross and said, “Speak, Asmodeus.”

Astarte walked over to the bed. “Wel , Asmodeus?”

she asked. “Wil you fol ow Philotanus into oblivion?”

“Does it matter?” asked Asmodeus. “I see now what this was. They knew you were on to their operation here. I was bait to draw you out. I was expendable, expected to fail. But why? I have faithful y served His Grace. I have done everything in my power to earn his favor.”

“You know why,” she said, almost gently. “Belial wil never truly accept you.”

“Because of what I once was,” Asmodeus said hol owly. “A halfbreed.”

“Yes.”

“But I sacrificed my mortal side,” he said, his eyes screwing up with anguish. “I destroyed half of myself.

Can there be any worse torment?”

“Belial’s hatred for halfbreeds is endless. No amount of suffering on your part wil ever satisfy him.”

He nodded. “And yet, what else could I do? If I had not tried to appease him, he would have kil ed me outright.” He closed his eyes. “No matter what I do, I can never escape what I am. I have tried, and I have failed. Worse, I have defiled myself beyond repair. My existence is bereft of meaning. Let your avenger destroy me. It makes no difference to the universe.”

Astarte looked at him for a moment. “Perhaps you are mistaken,” she said at last. “Perhaps you stil have tasks to complete.” She turned to Paul. “Spare him.

For me.”

Paul’s eyes widened. His mouth set hard, as if he was in pain. The hand that held the crucifix tensed up and the blade quivered. Then he took a deep breath and nodded.

“For you,” he said quietly. “Anything.”

He wiped his blade on the bedsheet, slid it back into its sheath, then walked to the other side of the bed.

Asmodeus looked to Paul on his left and Astarte on his right, his expression baffled.

“I give you your life, Asmodeus,” said Astarte. “A day wil come when you wil be able to repay this debt.

Until then, bide your time and serve your cruel master as best you can.”

“I do not understand,” said Asmodeus.

“Oh?” said Astarte, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps you understand better than anyone.” She held his gaze for a moment and something passed between them.

“No!” he said. “You—”

“Yes,” said Astarte calmly.

He stared up at her, his face merely a frame for those bottomless eyes. “I feel your sorrow,” he said at last.

“I feel no sorrow,” she said firmly. Defiantly. “I feel joy.”

An expression of awe slowly grew on the possessed’s face.

“Can such a thing be? Can your heart be so bold?”

“Of course.”

He looked up at the ceiling, and a strange little smile formed on the possessed’s lips. “Astarte, you have given me something more rare than my life this day.

You have given me hope.”

“There wil be many dark times ahead,” she said.

“Remember that hope. Keep it close.”

“Always,” he said.

Paul looked back and forth between them, his eyes narrowed.

“Please release him now, my love,” Astarte said.

Paul nodded curtly, leaned over, and laid his hand on the possessed’s forehead.

“Swear that you wil never possess another mortal man or woman,” he said.

“I swear,” said Asmodeus.

“I release you,” Paul said.

The possessed convulsed, then fel unconscious. A fine mist coalesced above Emile’s head. For a moment, Asmodeus appeared in his true form—a creature with three heads: man, ram, and bul . He bowed in thanks first to Paul, then to Astarte.

Then his form dissipated.

“What was al that about?” asked Paul.

She looked at him then in that way she had, her fierce green demon eyes piercing down to his soul. It stripped away al the safeguards he held up during the fight. She disarmed his heart until he stood before her, the same man who had thrown himself off a cliff because he loved her too much. Stil holding his gaze, she walked slowly around the bed until she stood in front of him.

She held out her hands and he took them immediately in his.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

It hung there in a silence that stretched on for a long time.

Then Poujean, off in the corner, cleared his throat.

“Would it be appropriate to offer my congratulations?”

“Of course it would,” said Astarte. Her eyes were stil locked on Paul’s, and there was a vulnerability in them that he had never seen before.

“Part demon, part mortal,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “A halfbreed.”

“Forbidden by Hel ,” he said. “And Heaven.”

“Yes,” she said.

“They wil hunt us,” he said.

“Yes, they wil ,” she said.

“They wil kil us,” he said.

“They wil try,” she said.

He slowly knelt down and pressed his forehead to her stomach.

“You wil see,” she said, stroking his hair. “This is our destiny. This child wil set right that which has been wrong for so many centuries now.”

“I love you,” he whispered. “Nothing else matters.”

“Ms. thompson! study hal is for work, not sleep!”

Jael jerks awake, Father Aaron’s voice ringing in her ears.

She mutters an apology as she massages the indentation on her cheek from her geometry book.

Another one of those visions.

Or memories. Whatever they are. She wasn’t even aware of fal ing asleep this time. One minute she was studying isosceles triangles, the next she was watching her dad chop a demon to pieces.

Her hand touches the gem that hangs around her neck and again she wonders what it is and where it came from. Hel , like she told Father Ralph? She said it more to freak him out than because she believed it.

But is it real y such a stretch? And why is it the one thing her mother made her father promise to give her?

Maybe these visions she’s been having are supposed to happen. Maybe it’s what her mother wanted.

For the rest of the afternoon, she can’t shake the gruesome visuals the necklace showed her. First that fish monster in that place with the giant clamshel s.

Then her parents, clearly in love, and kil ing demons together. In a weird kind of way, it’s like a dream come true. She’s always wanted to know more about her mother. And seeing her father as a badass exorcist mage (or whatever that Haitian guy cal ed him) definitely explains a lot about the way he is. She wishes she could have known him back then. Of course, she wishes she could have known her mother at al .

“Hey, Betty! Wait up!”

She’s just leaving school after the last bel when she hears Rob’s voice. She turns and sees Rob standing at the top of the steps with some of his skater buddies. He waves to her, then pul s his board from the strap on his backpack, jumps, lands the board on the stair handrailing, and slides down.

“Mr. McKinley!” yel s Father Aaron from his post by the door. “Not on school property!”

“Sorry, Father,” cal s Rob over his shoulder as he lands at the bottom of the steps next to Jael.

“Wow,” says Jael. “Um, hey.”

Rob kicks the board up and catches it with one hand, then brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Hey,” he says,

“you doing anything?”

Jael stares at him for a moment. “What, like right now?”

“Sure, right now.”

“Uh, no,” she says. “Not real y.”

“Oh yeah? Wel , you wanna . . . uh, hang out?”

“Hang out?” repeats Jael. “Like, you and me?”

“Yeah, you know,” says Rob. “A buddy of mine just started working the dinner shift at Denny’s. He can score us some free grub, as long as we don’t care what it is. Just, whatever’s easy for him to make extra of without people noticing.”

“Free dinner at Denny’s?” Why is she unable to say something even remotely intel igent right now?

“Wel , it’s not fancy or anything, but I thought, you know

. . .”

He tries to smile again but this time there’s a hint of nervousness to it. “I mean, if you don’t like Denny’s, we could do something else.”

“No,” says Jael. “Denny’s sounds just about perfect.”

She smiles, and that wipes the nervousness away from his smile.

“Excel ent,” he says.

The Denny’s is just like any other: thin green carpet, brown Formica tables, and bright fluorescent lighting that stil makes the place seem dim somehow. Jael and Rob sit in a corner booth and sip burnt coffee.

Even though they’ve talked a thousand times at school, it feels completely different to be off school grounds, sitting across from him in the cramped booth. A tingle of nervousness runs through her, and she’s glad she has the comforting weight of the necklace against her skin.

A guy with a buzz cut and dressed in a Denny’s apron comes over. Jael’s seen him climbing out of one of the many expensive SUVs in the school parking lot.

“Yo, Robbie!” says the guy as he leans across the table and clasps Rob’s hand.

“Chas!” says Rob. “I’m feelin’ that apron, bro!”

“I know, right?” says Chas. “It’s total y hot.”

“I’m gonna have to borrow it sometime,” says Rob.

“No way, man. This shit is Denny’s employees only.

We have to take a blood oath. Like the Masons.”

“Sounds serious,” says Rob.

“Total y. So, you final y decided to take me up on my offer, huh?”

“Final y? It’s only been two weeks.”

“For free grub? I would have jumped on that in, like, two days.”

“Yeah, wel . . . ,” says Rob. “Hey, do you know Jael?”

“I have not had the pleasure,” says Chas. He turns to her and grins in a weird way, like he knows something. “I’m Chas.”

“Thanks for the food hookup,” says Jael.

“Al right, folks,” says Chas. “You just chil and act like whatever I bring you is something you ordered. Let the feasting begin!”

Once Chas leaves, Rob turns to Jael.

“So, was that you splitting early from church?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Jael. “You saw that?”

“Everything okay?”

“Sure, I just . . . wasn’t feeling wel . Didn’t want to throw up in chapel, you know?” The lie tastes bitter in her mouth. Rob is just such an honest, open guy, it seems wrong somehow. But what else can she say?

Sorry, the demonic necklace I inherited from my mom was about to burn the chapel down? Even though Rob said a lot of open-minded things about magic this morning, the truth would be pushing it. But maybe someday she’l be able to talk about this stuff with him.

That thought sends a thril through her. To talk to someone.

To tel her secret. To have just one friend she can be one hundred percent real with. Before this moment, she hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“Hey,” Rob says, “at least you missed the Mons going on forever with the Petitions.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Jael, relieved to be back on familiar topics like complaining about teachers. “Sometimes I wonder if he actual y knows anyone who isn’t sick or dying.”

“He’s led a pretty crazy life, I guess. Some of his stories about being a missionary in Peru? That is just some messed-up shit.”

“He hasn’t real y said a lot about it to us,” says Jael.

“Just kind of hints at it.”

“Yeah, he and I talked a few times. He was trying to get me to come back to the Church and believe again. I guess he thought tel ing me a few intense stories about being a missionary might spark my interest.”

“It didn’t?” asks Jael.

“Nah. I mean, those Shining Path guys were pretty messed up. They would kil and torture al these people. Not soldiers or anything, just normal people.

Hack them up with machetes. But I don’t think it had much to do with them being atheist. I think it was because they were poor, oppressed, and pissed off to the point of insanity.”

“The Mons is definitely old-school religion.”

“But even stil , he’s got this weird Zen thing going,”

says Rob, “I feel like he’s been through some serious shit and come out on the other side total y at peace.”

“I wish he could give some of that peace to Father Aaron,” says Jael.

“The Mons might be extra holy,” says Rob, “but he can’t do miracles.”

They continue to stay on safe topics throughout dinner, almost like it’s just an extended version of the kind of conversations they have in homeroom. Dinner is heavy on the fried appetizers, and Jael isn’t used to that, so by the time they finish, she feels a little il . Rob admits that he isn’t feeling great either, so they take their time walking home.

The rainy season has begun, so the sun sets earlier every day. Even though it’s only six o’clock, the sky is dark as they walk through the neighborhood. The cool evening air and a ful stomach have final y loosened Jael’s nerves a bit, so she says,

“Hey, I just uh . . . wanted to say how cool I thought it was what you said this morning about chemistry. And, uh, magic.”

Rob shrugs. “It’s my thing, I guess. Other than skating, of course.”

“So . . .” Jael struggles to think how to put it in a way that won’t make her sound completely crazy. “So if you believe al that stuff, do you believe in God?”

“Seriously?” asks Rob. He squints at her in the dim street light.

“Yeah,” says Jael. “I mean, I’m not Catholic or anything, so don’t worry about offending me.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” he says with a little smile. “The way I look at it, it doesn’t real y matter if God exists or not. I’m stil going to do what I think is right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” says Jael. “Sort of.”

“How about you?”

“When I was a little kid, I used to believe it al ,” she says.

“God, the pope and Jesus stuff . . . Al of it.”

“Sure, me too,” says Rob. “That’s normal.”

“No, I mean I was into it. Like on Good Friday, when the priest would go around to the Stations of the Cross, talking about Jesus getting whipped, the crown of thorns, al that stuff?

By the time he got to nailing Jesus’ hands to the wood, I’d be crying. Like every time.”

“Whoa,” says Rob, but Jael can’t tel if he’s surprised or impressed. “So what happened?” he asks. “When did you stop believing?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s . . . complicated for me. I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

“I don’t think it matters that much. The stuff you do is way more important than the stuff you believe.”

“But don’t you do things based on your beliefs?”

“I’d say it’s the other way around. You believe things to justify what you do.”

“Huh,” says Jael. They walk on in silence as Jael tries to unravel that statement in her head.

They get to her house and Jael feels like she’s supposed to invite him inside. But she knows her dad wouldn’t like it. He’s already going to be pissed at her for going out without letting him know. And with a boy, even. Best not to push it any further.

“Wel ,” she says final y, “I should probably get some homework done or something.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, sure,” says Rob.

“Thanks for, uh . . .” She isn’t sure how to phrase it.

After al , the word “date” was never official y used, so it’s possible he doesn’t think of it as one. “I had fun,”

she says.

“Me too,” says Rob. “So, like . . . does this mean we can hang out again?”

“Yeah,” Jael says. “That’d be cool.” Then she turns to go.

“Hey, wait,” he says.

Jael turns back and the look on his face makes her think that maybe he’s going to ask her if he can kiss her and if he does, she has no idea what she’s going to say.

“Is that . . . Is that your mom’s necklace?”

“Oh,” says Jael. Her hand goes to her throat. “Yeah.”

“Can I see it?” asks Rob.

“Um . . .” She feels a slow flush creep onto her face.

This could be even more uncomfortable than if he’d asked for a kiss and she’s tempted to dodge. But that clear, honest look in his eyes pierces her careful cool, leaves her feeling off balance and open in a way she’s not used to. She nods and holds the chain up so that the gem dangles, turning gently in the moonlight.

He tilts his head to one side and leans in close. So close that she can smel his spicy deodorant.

“Do you know what kind of stone it is?” he asks.

“Uh, no,” she says. She feels so vulnerable with him this close. She can’t decide if she should look at him or look away. “I guess ruby?”

He shakes his head, he eyes stil locked on the necklace.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tel in this light, but I think the coloring is a little dark for a ruby. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“You know a lot about jewelry?” she asks, half teasing.

“Gemstones? Yeah. I know some,” he says casual y.

Like al boys are interested in jewels. “So,” he says, and returns her teasing smile with one of his own.

“You decided to wear it anyway, huh?”

“Oh,” says Jael, leaning away. “I didn’t real y . . . wel . .

.”

“No, no, I total y get it,” he says. “There’s just something about it that’s . . . I don’t know. It’s just cool.”

“Yeah,” says Jael.

“How could you resist, right?” The playful smile again.

“No, real y, it wasn’t like that. It was just a situation where it would have been real y weird not to put it on.”

“Maybe so,” says Rob. “But you stil haven’t taken it off.”

“No,” says Jael. “I haven’t.”

He nods, suddenly serious. “Thanks for showing it to me.”

“Sure,” says Jael.

“Your mom gave it to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember her?”

Jael shakes her head. “She died when I was a baby.”

“Sorry,” says Rob.

“I used to think it was good that I don’t remember her,”

says Jael. “Because I thought then I’d never miss her.

But I was wrong.”

“How so?”

“I do miss her.”

“Missing someone you never knew . . . ,” says Rob.

“What does that feel like?”

“It’s hard to describe,” says Jael. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m missing a part of myself.”

He nods, and they just stand there looking at each other.

The yel ow streetlight reflects off his blond hair, and The yel ow streetlight reflects off his blond hair, and his jawline and cheekbones stand out sharply from the shadows.

“What was her name?” Rob asks.

It’s been a long time since anyone has asked her that.

It’s been a long time since she’s said it aloud.

“Astarte,” she says, and just like always, she gets a little tingle down her spine.

“Wow,” says Rob. He shivers just a little, like he got the same tingle. “Cool name.”

“Yeah,” says Jael. “It’s a little weird, but I like it.”

“I bet she chose your name.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you have a weird cool name too.”

She can’t quite look at him as she says, “Thanks.”

He shrugs, and that wide-open grin comes again.

“Okay,”

he says, and takes a few steps backward. “See you tomorrow.”

Then he pul s his skateboard from his backpack and coasts down the sidewalk and into the night.

Jael turns smoothly, like there are wheels under her own feet, and glides into the house. As she makes her way slowly through the darkened living room, she decides she has to cal Britt. She can almost hear her smug “I total y cal ed that!” now.