The Demon's Deadline (Demon's Assistant Book 1) (12 page)

“This,” he taps the letter, “is just paper. Other people aren’t fair game. So this isn’t an invoice with any weight. It’s a threat. Someone is trying to scare you.”

“What? Who? Why?”

Xanan shrugs again and takes a large swig of his root beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “No idea. But it’s good.”

“How? I mean, other than Cam not being in immediate danger.”

“It means we know who it is.”

“Okay. Care to enlighten me?”

He rolls his eyes again, like I’m too stupid to live. Given the fate Mr. St. Davies met, it’s more than terrifying. “I don’t know exactly. But we know it’s someone who’s trying to weasel extra time and someone who doesn’t like you. I’m willing to bet that’s not a long list.”

I sip more root beer and will the sugar to help the synapses in my brain fire. And then it hits me. It’s so completely obvious that I feel as stupid as Xanan clearly thinks I am. Heather Bancroft. She was furious, she tried to use salt and holy water against me, and then she attacked me with a dagger. She had that circle in her apartment like she was casting witchy spells. And she was not happy to learn I don’t have an expiration date looming over my head. She might not have been the first person to figure out what the letters meant before I did, but she was the first to set up a demon trap and attack me. Of all the people I’ve delivered letters to, she’s the most obvious suspect.

I tell Xanan.

“Excellent. You should be quick about it.”

“About what?”

“Finding her and releasing Azmos from whatever spell she’s got that keeps him trapped and hidden.”

“Why me?” I demand.

He doesn’t roll his eyes again. He just stares at me like he cannot believe that someone this clueless can possibly be breathing the same air. “The longer she lives beyond her contracted time, the more she upsets the balance and the more people’s contracts I have to prematurely terminate.”

“She’s only been skirting the line for two weeks. How many people does it take to even up the score?”

“It’s a complex equation you can’t hope to understand. But the longer she continues to exist, the more I need to remove to keep the delicate balance.” His eyes meet mine, blue as the ocean and filled with the same quiet intensity that lies beneath the waves. “I will keep the balance at all costs. Do you understand?”

I open my mouth to say no, but his meaning slowly takes shape in my mind. “Are you threatening me?”

He shrugs and sips his root beer.

“You are.” I edge past him along the counters and fridge, keeping as much distance in the cramped kitchen as I can between the demon and me.

“I’m telling you a possible consequence if she’s not found and Azmos is not released.”

“My contract is complete and Cam is safe,” I say. “This isn’t my problem.”

“No? Funny. I thought I just made it clear that it is. Contracts are just paper, after all.” He smirks. I resist the urge to throw my bottle at his head, as I don’t think that would end well for me.

“This isn’t fair.”

“This is about balance. Fairness doesn’t enter into it.”

There’s nothing else to say, so I walk back out of the house, careful not to look at the sheet again. I’m pretty sure it’s already going to haunt me for years to come.

Cam’s car is idling. I want to hug him and kiss him and never let him go, not just for being there, but because the letter doesn’t mean he’s going to drop dead at any second. Me, on the other hand, well, I don’t want to think about it.

I get in and he shuts off the stereo.

“Get what you needed?” The question is sincere.

“Yeah,” I say. It’s half-true.

“Good.” He puts the car in gear. “Because this is the part where you fill me in. You tell me everything, no matter how small, got it?”

“Cam—”

“Nicki. I mean it.” He sighs, puts the car back in park, and then turns to face me. In the dim streetlight, his face is shadowed, his eyes obstructed by the glare on his glasses, but his expression is clear. “I can’t do this if you keep things from me. You get that, right?”

“Do what?”

“Anything.”

My throat is dry. “You don’t need to do anything. This isn’t about you.”

“That is possibly the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m such an idiot, I bet it’s hard to narrow it down that quickly.”

“You’re not an idiot. You just act like one sometimes.”

“Thanks a lot.”

He growls in frustration, running his fingers through his hair and tugging, like he might tear it out. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that you were free of this demon crap, right? He let you go. So I don’t understand why you have to try to go out for the team again. There are better ways to spend your time.”

“No, Cam, there aren’t. Besides, I don’t have a choice.”

He sighs. “You always have a choice. You chose to lie to me.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” My breath puffs out in front of me. I tug my coat tighter and look back at the house, but Xanan is nowhere in sight. This is a different kind of cold.

“I hate to play this card, but I’ve been pretty cool about the whole demon thing. I’ve only ever asked that you be completely honest with me.” He meets my eyes, his gaze pleading.

“Okay,” I finally say. “But it might take longer than the drive back to Seattle.” He raises an eyebrow. “A lot’s happened since Saturday morning.”

“Apparently,” he says. He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. “Should have known you’d get in over your head without me around.” He flashes me a quick smile. It’s fleeting and terse, but it’s there.

I reach over and lightly punch his shoulder. I know we’re not back where we were, but it’s a start. So as we drive, I tell him everything. When I get to the part about his name, he shoots me a panicked look. I quickly tell him what Xanan said—until the point where he made it clear that my life is what’s up for grabs. Having spent hours wondering if Cam was in danger, I can’t put him in the same situation. When I finish the entire story, we’re parked outside a closed smoothie shop in a strip mall a few blocks from my apartment.

“So,” I say. “Here we are. That girl who salted me apparently has enough magical mojo to keep Azmos trapped and she hates my guts, but it’s my job to find her and rescue the demon.”

Cam is silent for a long time. I resist the urge to check my cellphone. It has to be late and I’m suddenly exhausted. Finally, he says, “Don’t get involved.”

“What do you mean? I’m already involved.”

“You say it’s your job, Nic, but it’s not. If I understand correctly, it’s Azmos’ job to dole out the bonus years and Xanan’s to keep things in check. Your job was only to deliver the letters, which I still don’t really get, but you got fired. You’re not part of this anymore.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Cam sighs, defeated. “That’s what I thought.”

My stomach constricts. The distance between us is like a brick wall that keeps replacing any bricks I manage to remove.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Because I didn’t want it to be true.” Cam looks surprised, like it’s the only answer he wasn’t prepared for. “I’m not like you or Melissa. I’m not good at anything except video games and guessing who the killer is in cheesy horror movies. I don’t have a dream job or a dream college. At least when I was busy running errands for Az, I felt like—“ Tears prick at my eyes and I let out a breath. “I don’t know. I felt like I was special. Like I had my own thing. Now I’m back to being nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” Cam says. “You’re funny, creative, beautiful, and brilliant.”

“I’m not brilliant. I have a C average.”

“Academics are more application than intelligence.” Cam smiles and reaches over, putting his arm around my shoulder. “Do you really think I’d date an airhead? I mean, I have some standards.”

I smile a little, too, even though I’m not entirely convinced I meet his standards, however low they are. The thought sinks in my stomach like a rock. I never doubted us before, but now I’m consumed by doubt.

“I should have told you,” I say, leaning into his arm and choking down the guilt from the other things I’m leaving unsaid. There’s always something.

“Yeah. But I probably shouldn’t have stormed out on you.”

“I deserved it.”

Cam shakes his head and tightens his arm around me. “When did you get so down on yourself?” he asks, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “We both made mistakes.”

“So what now?”

He drops his arm and starts the car. “I drive you home and we both get some sleep. It’s still a school night.”

I don’t sleep. I try, but I can’t. I feel like every beat of my heart is the tick of a clock that’s counting down to my doom. By two in the morning, I end up on the sofa watching infomercials for blenders that flake ice like snow and food dehydrators that can suck the moisture from anything you can fit inside.

By six, I’m actually glad for the excuse to get off of the couch. I chug an energy drink, shower, and put on jeans and a t-shirt. The jeans are black. I tug on my black hoodie over it.

Cam shows up to give me a ride, apparently ditching his Zero Period to do so. It’s a pleasant surprise. He’s wearing a blue concert tee for some band called The Midnight Toils, whose music I vaguely recall not completely hating, and he brought me a cold can of cola and a donut from the 7-Eleven.

The car still reeks of fake peaches, but at least I’m the one in the front seat. “How did she manage to spill so much body spray, anyhow?” I ask. “Doesn’t it come in a spray bottle?”

Cam snorts. “I was driving her home from Amy’s party Sunday morning and she was worried her dad would notice she was sweating whiskey, so she twisted the top off to get more on her or something. And then she dropped it.”

“So you both slept at Amy’s?” I ask.

Cam shoots me a glance. “Not together,” he says, his tone exasperated. “She slept in Amy’s room and I crashed on the couch. You know me better than that.”

“Yeah, I do. But she likes you.”

“She knows I have a girlfriend.”

“For a while there, I didn’t know if I was still your girlfriend.”

“I was angry, Nic. I had a right to be. But if we break up, I promise I’ll make sure you know.”

“That’s reassuring.”

When Cam pulls into the parking lot, he leans over and kisses me. I kiss him back and wrap my arms around his shoulders, but we can’t keep it up for long. People are walking past in every direction, and three months ago, Amy and Justin got detention for PDA when they made out in her car during lunch. Cam smiles at me when he pulls away, and then he tugs his backpack free from behind his seat.

“By the way, whatever your master plan is, I want in.”

“What plan?”

“I don’t know. Whatever dangerous and unhinged thing you’re planning,” he says. “If you’re going to insist on doing something risky, I’m going to come along and mitigate that risk.”

“You sound like a lawyer.” But I grin at him. It’s nice to know I have someone to help me if I need it, even though I don’t think I can drag him in any deeper.

I don’t pay any attention in class. I doodle and ruminate and swallow back panic, because wasting time in class when I need to be doing something, even if I don’t know what, is slowly eating me alive. By Spanish, I give up. I’ll have to call Dad and get him to excuse me, and he will. Everyone deserves a grief day.

I find Cam in the hallway and tell him I’m leaving. He frowns and looks at his cellphone to check the time. “Now?”

“Now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

He puts his Spanish book back in his locker and shuts it. “No way. We talked about this.”

“I’m just going home.”

“And I’m not that stupid.”

“Cam.” He sets his jaw, which is lined with blond stubble. I play my trump card. “You’ll get in trouble.”

Cam’s greatest fear besides not getting straight A’s is detention, which he’s never had. I have had it five times, mostly for stupid reasons like being late to class too many times. Once, Freshman year, I was given detention for swearing in English class when I realized I’d mixed up the due dates for essay outlines. I thought it was overkill. It wasn’t like I swore
at
anyone.

Cam shrugs, but the concern doesn’t leave his face. “I’ll tell my mom I had food poisoning. She’s always telling me those fast food places will make me sick. She loves being right.”

I wish I could point out that, with a lie like that, if he doesn’t go straight home, it might poke a hole in his story. But his mom’s a teacher at an elementary school, and Cam’s sister, Cathy, who’s in fourth grade, stays late with her to get a ride home, so no one will be at his house until after six.

“If you’re sure,” I tell him.

“I’m sure.” He takes my hand and we walk through the hall, although we make sure to stagger our time with the attendance office by at least five minutes. I go first, because even if they suspect we’re up to something, Mrs. Almeroth is way more likely to let Cam slide than me.

“Where to?” he asks when we get in the car.

“Somewhere I can think,” I say, although my brain has been running at break-neck speed since last night and I can’t seem to stop thinking. He drives up to Volunteer Park. We get out and walk across the grass.