Demon Road

  Brandon, that was it. Brandon.

  The creature dropped to the container and while it struggled for balance Amber let go of the steel cable and ran at it. She jumped, both feet slamming into its chest, knocking it back off the edge. She twisted, reaching for a handhold, but the creature’s flailing arms caught her leg and then she was falling too.

  They both fell.

  Plummeting.

  Spinning in rushing air.

  Then something slammed into her and suddenly there were strong arms around her and she heard the beating of great wings, and she watched the creature hit the ground, so far below, and come apart in a wretched explosion of blood and body parts, and she was swooping upwards.

  Buxton let go and her momentum took her through the air, her arms and legs pinwheeling. She touched down and crumpled and went rolling, coming to a wonderfully painful stop.

  She lay there for a moment, a nice long moment, then raised her head, saw her parents coming for her.

  AMBER RAN INTO THE warehouse, started up the stairs, but then remembered that up there she’d be trapped, so she jumped back down, ran across the warehouse floor. Nowhere to hide here, nowhere except behind the engine block.

  She went to duck behind it, found Edgar cowering there. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes and she hit him and he crumpled. She crouched over him, and listened to her parents’ footsteps.

  “We’re not mad,” said Betty, “are we, Bill?”

  “Not mad at all,” said Bill.

  “You’ve proven yourself,” Amber’s mom said. “We’re impressed. We are. Come on out, sweetie. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Amber’s shoulder was still bleeding badly. She couldn’t fight them, and she couldn’t run. They were stronger and faster and better. She had one option. Right here, right now, she had one way to escape.

  She dug a hand into her pocket.

  “We’re going to need to make plans,” said Bill. “The Shining Demon isn’t going to be pleased with any of us – least of all you. We’re stronger if we stick together.”

  Amber tore a match from the matchbook she’d taken from Edgar’s house, back in Miami. She dropped the match on the ring of powder, and stood.

  Her parents smiled, and Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Betty saw the flames at the last moment and she grabbed him, yanked him into the circle with her just before the flames met and turned blue.

  And then they were in the Shining Demon’s castle, with its five arched doorways and its obscene tapestries and stained-glass windows.

  Bill and Betty whirled, confused. In their day, a summoning would mean the Demon appeared to them. Amber didn’t bother telling them that times had changed.

  Her breath crystallised as she adjusted to her new surroundings. Now she could hear the distant screams, and she could see better in the gloom.

  “Hello, Fool,” she said.

  Her parents stood together, watching as Fool emerged from darkness. Thin rivers of sweat streaked its ash-pale make-up, but its glass-shard smile was as fresh as ever. “I’ve been waiting for you,” it said. “Do you have him? Is that him there?”

  It tried to peer at Edgar as he stirred, but Amber blocked its view. “First you give me what I want,” she said.

  Fool shook its head. “The Master’s instructions were clear. First you hand over Gregory Buxton and then I give you this.” It took a small vial of yellow liquid from its patchwork robes.

  Her eyes locked on to it. “And what about the countdown?”

  “Drink this,” said Fool, “and the scars will fade.”

  She took a moment. “No, Fool,” she said sternly, like she was talking to a child, or a dog. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Where are we?” Bill asked.

  Fool looked at him, started to answer.

  “Your master’s business is with me,” Amber snapped. “Forget about them. They mean nothing. It’s me you need to address. I don’t trust you, Fool, so I am not going to give you Gregory Buxton until after you give me the vial.”

  “But the Master—”

  “The Shining Demon wants Buxton,” Amber interrupted, “and the only way that’s happening is if you do what I say.”

  Fool licked its red lips. “Same time,” it said. “Yes, yes, same time.”

  She couldn’t put it off any longer, so Amber grabbed Edgar by the collar and hauled him to his feet. He moaned, almost toppled. “Here he is,” she said. “Here’s Gregory Buxton.”

  Fool looked at Edgar.

  And nodded eagerly.

  He held out the vial with one hand. In the other, he clutched a metal collar attached to a chain.

  Amber nudged Edgar out of the circle as she snatched the vial from Fool’s hand, and Fool snapped the collar around Edgar’s neck with practised ease.

  Edgar straightened up at once. “What? What’s going on?”

  “What is going on?” said Bill. “Creature, what did you give our daughter? What is that?”

  “Seasoning,” said Fool, and giggled. “It’ll turn her blood to poison.”

  Bill reached for the vial, but Amber backed away. Betty moved behind her.

  “Give it to me,” said Bill. “Give it to me right this instant, young lady.”

  Amber snarled. “Screw you, Dad.”

  He dived at her and she held him off with one hand while she thumbed the stopper from the vial. Her mother was grabbing her from behind, trying to tear the vial from her grip. They had her wrist pinned so she leaned down, took the vial between her teeth and threw her head back. The yellow liquid splashed down her throat and burned. It reached her stomach and sent out hot jabs of pain, and her parents stepped away as she fell to her knees. Her vision dimmed. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. Her blood boiled in her veins. Through blurred eyes, she watched the scarred numbers fade from her wrist.

  And then, just like that, it was gone, and she gasped and blinked and looked up in time to see Fool tugging angrily at Edgar’s chain.

  “You are Gregory Buxton!” it said. “I know you are him! You are just trying to confuse me!”

  “Gregory Buxton is a sixty-five-year-old black man!” Edgar cried. “I’m a forty-six-year-old white guy!”

  Fool frowned at him, then its eyes widened. “You all look the same to me,” it mumbled.

  From one of the corridors, a rapidly intensifying glow. Amber’s parents turned away instantly, and Edgar clamped his hands over his face. Amber screwed her eyes shut as footsteps thundered on the stone floor, so heavy she felt the vibrations through the soles of her own feet.

  “You dare cheat me?” the Shining Demon roared. His brightness was blinding, even with her eyes closed, and his voice came from above. He was towering over her, towering over them all. “You come to my castle and you dare try to cheat me?”

  Amber’s legs were shaking and she desperately wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but she forced herself to stay standing.

  For a long time, there was not one other sound to be heard. Even the distant screams quietened.

  Then the Shining Demon softened his voice. “Look at me,” he said.

  Amber didn’t move for a few seconds. She certainly didn’t open her eyes.

  But then the brightness began to retract, and when it stopped hurting Amber dared to look up. For a moment she thought she saw a being of terrifying proportions and impossible appendages, but her squinting eyes adjusted as the brightness was reined in, and now she saw that the figure was of normal height, and not the monstrous thing she had glimpsed. The Shining Demon blazed with a fierce light from within. Tattoos dotted his translucent skin like archipelagos, black islands in a sea of burning orange. His face was calm. He had black eyes.

  “My Lord Astaroth,” Edgar said, falling to one knee, “the Duke of Hell whom we mortals call the Shining Demon, I ask of you only that you remake me, sire. I have so far been unworthy of your attentions, but look, I have brought to you a curiosity, a girl of—”

  The Shining D
emon looked at him like Edgar was something he’d stepped in. “You? You have brought me nothing.”

  “But … but I have everything to offer,” Edgar countered, bowing his head. “I offer you my soul, sire. All I have ever wanted in my entire pathetic life was the power you have bestowed upon mortals like me. I offer you my flesh to remake how you see fit. I offer you my soul to sculpt, and my mind to twist, and—”

  “You offer me nothing I do not possess,” said the Shining Demon. “You are outside the circle, little insect. You have nothing to bargain with. Your soul is mine already.”

  Fool tittered, and yanked on the chain. Edgar fell back.

  “No!” he cried. “Wait, it’s not meant to be like this! All I want is power! Please, just—”

  Another tug and the last of Edgar’s words were choked from him. Fool started walking for the nearest of the arched corridors, and Edgar was dragged after him, kicking and spluttering. He reached out to Amber, but she just stood there, on her side of the blue flames, and watched him go until he was lost to sight.

  Amber turned back to the Shining Demon to find his eyes fixed on her parents, who were still averting their gaze.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and this time they obeyed. “Two of your brethren are dead, along with my representative on Earth. And I have received no tribute.”

  “We … we can make it up to you,” said Bill. “We can—”

  “You have failed to fulfil your part of our deal,” said the Shining Demon. “You had better start running.”

  Bill and Betty clutched each other’s hands.

  The Shining Demon turned his gaze upon Amber. “And finally you. You have cheated me, you foolish, foolish girl. You think, because Buxton has eluded me, you stand a chance? Buxton made himself an expert in the arcane arts. Can you say the same?”

  Amber swallowed. “No,” she said. “But I found him in less than three weeks, and you’ve been after him for fifteen years. So it occurs to me that maybe you’re not so hot at finding anyone, you dumb shit.”

  The Shining Demon stared.

  “I don’t care what your excuse is,” she continued while a significant part of her brain screamed at her to shut the hell up. “I don’t care if you regard time differently or if you’ve got endless patience or what. Fifteen years is fifteen years. You’ve had all that time to learn how to google and instead you kept trying to find him on Demon radar. I mean, seriously? You might be shiny, but you’re not too bright, are you?”

  “I will make you pay for every insolent word.”

  “You sure you can count that high, you moronic pile of crap? Screw you. I’m not scared of you. Come after me. Send another representative after me and I’ll kill him just like I did your last one.”

  She thought that’d make him explode. Instead, he just smiled. Which was worse.

  “Amber,” he said, “you are a brave girl. You are even a clever girl, in your way. But you are also an ignorant girl. I could command your parents to force you from that circle and then you would be my plaything for all eternity. But there is a certain way to do things. Deals. Negotiations. Collecting debts. Wreaking vengeance. All these things I have been doing for centuries upon centuries. Technology means nothing to me. If I want you, I will get you. Your body may fade, but your soul will burn as bright.

  “Yet you have cheated me and insulted me. I do not easily forgive insolence. Your parents will run as they must.” The Shining Demon smiled. “But you must run faster, for the Hounds of Hell will be coming for you.”

  The blue flames spluttered and went out, and they were suddenly back in the warehouse.

  AMBER TOOK A MOMENT to adjust to her new surroundings, took a moment to absorb what the Shining Demon had said, and then she turned and Bill lunged at her and Milo said, “Stop.”

  Bill froze, though his body practically hummed with restrained violence. Milo and Buxton stood over the unconscious forms of Grant and Kirsty. Milo was back to normal, and his gun was pointed straight down into Grant’s face.

  “We’ll pay you ten times what Imelda was paying you,” said Bill. “Just walk away, Mr Sebastian. We’ll pay you, too, Mr Buxton. This is a family matter.”

  “Indeed it is,” said Milo, and he didn’t budge.

  Amber watched as the space between the two men became charged, and then Betty was there, her hand on Bill’s arm.

  “We have to go,” she said. “We have to go now.”

  “Don’t forget your friends,” said Buxton.

  Moving slowly, her father approached Grant and her mother went over to Kirsty. Amber just stood there, waiting for them to look at her. Her dad hauled Grant off the ground by his shirt collar. She was being ignored. They were going to walk out and walk away and she was being ignored.

  “Apologise!” she screamed.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “I beg your pardon?” Bill said.

  “Apologise,” Amber repeated, trying to get her voice under control. She would not cry. Not in front of them. Not ever again. “After everything you’ve done, the least you can do is—”

  “You ruined everything,” her mother said.

  Her words robbed Amber of her voice.

  “We gave you life,” said her dad. “For sixteen years, you wanted for nothing. We provided for you, we kept you safe, we let you have friends, go to school … We didn’t have to. We could have locked you in the attic. But we allowed you to live. And this … this is how you repay us.”

  Her throat was so tight. “You wanted to kill me,” said Amber.

  “That was always going to be how it ended,” Betty replied. “We knew you only had sixteen years so we decided to let you spend it however you wanted. We allowed you happiness, Amber.”

  “You think … you think I was happy?”

  “You didn’t know any better. And we were good parents.”

  Bill nodded. “We were very good parents. Did we ever shout at you? Did we ever ground you? We let you live your life however you wanted to live it. Do you think it’s our fault that you never made any real friends? Are you blaming us for that? Not that we’re complaining. One good thing about you being socially inept – we’ve got no one probing too deeply into your disappearance. We’ve been wonderful parents, and all we’ve tried to do is give you a good life.”

  Amber frowned at how incredible this was. “You think you’ve done me a favour?”

  “Every minute,” said Betty, “every second of your sixteen years was possible only because we needed you to boost our power. That is your purpose, Amber. That has always been your purpose. You were meant for nothing else, just like your brother and your sister were meant for nothing else but to sustain us, to keep us going. This isn’t about you. This isn’t your story, Amber – it’s ours. We’re not going to hand over the reins to the younger generation – not when we’re better, faster, smarter and stronger. We deserve our power and our life because we carved it out for ourselves. You? Your generation? You expect to have everything handed to you. You never had to work, to really work, for anything. So what do you deserve? Really, what do you deserve?”

  “A chance,” said Amber.

  “You’ve squandered it,” said Bill. He put Grant over his shoulder. “You’ve ruined everything for everyone. Imelda’s dead because of you. You killed Alastair. Now we have to run, and you … You have no idea what’s coming for you.”

  He walked out while Betty took Kirsty’s hands.

  “You should have just let us kill you,” Betty said, and followed her husband, dragging Kirsty behind her.

  THEY WERE SIX DAYS into their drive to Alaska, and they were staying in a bed and breakfast outside of Edmonton, Canada. Amber’s bag was by the door. She slept in her jeans and socks. That evening, she’d eaten her first real meal in days, and for the first time in a week she’d been able to shower. These were things she was beginning to view as luxuries. She already considered a good night’s sleep as an extravagance she couldn’t afford, and as for a general feeling of sa
fety …

  At the slightest noise her eyes would spring open and her body would tense. The house creaked and groaned around her and she hovered like this, on the edge of sleep, as the hours slouched by. She wondered if Milo was finding it as difficult to sleep in the next room. He’d been even more taciturn than usual, ever since they’d fled New York. She would have liked to believe he was angry with her, maybe for the mess she’d dragged him into, but she knew he wasn’t, and she knew the truth.

  He was scared.

  The Hounds were after them, and Milo was scared.

  She heard a voice call her name and she nearly screamed.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t sit up. She just went rigid, and she listened. Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. It could have been the wind, or the pipes, or her imagination. Amber lay there, a statue made of nerve endings stretched like bowstrings. She stopped breathing. She waited.

  But she couldn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t allow herself to believe it had been the wind. Not without checking.

  She got out of bed, standing in the cold, cold room, her bare arms prickling with goosebumps. It took seven steps to get to the window. She wished it had taken more. She parted the curtains.

  Her room was on the second floor. Glen was outside her window, standing on darkness and nothing else. He looked so pale. He looked so sad.

  With trembling hands, Amber closed the curtains.

  She stayed where she was for five minutes.

  When she looked again, he was gone. The half-moon struggled out from behind some clouds, did its best to cast a silver light on the buildings and homes around her. The people in those homes slept, whole families warm in their beds. In the morning, they’d wake and the kids would go to school and the parents would work or do whatever it is they did, and they’d have their arguments and their fights and the parents wouldn’t understand and the kids would storm to their rooms, and life would continue on as normal, or as normal as it ever got.

  But, of course, normal was subjective. And so was life, now that Amber thought about it.