Angelbound

Chapter 11-2

I stay home the rest of that day, and the next, and the next. Mom’s really cool about it. She makes me frozen dinners and lets me watch all the television I want. A full week goes by before I trek back to class.

As I putter along the familiar route to school, my face stretches into a confident grin. After a whole week, Cissy must feel sorry for her super-sick best friend, transforming her envy demon into ancient history. In fact, I bet she’ll just say hello and chat away like nothing ever happened.

Yeah, that’s it.

I park Betsy, step into school and scan the crowded hallway. Cissy stands beside by her locker. I walk to her side and slap on my most winning smile.

“Hey there, Cissy.”

Silence.

“I’m feeling much better, thanks for asking.”

Cissy slowly turns to face me. The moment her eyes meet mine, her irises flash so brightly, I shield my eyes from the glare. With a low growl, she slams her locker and stomps off down the hallway.

My stomach twists with disappointment. So much for chatting away like nothing happened. Damn, her envy demon is a b***h when it’s up.

I go to class and pretend to look interested at whatever garbage the Old Timer has to say, but actually I’m brainstorming awesome one-liners for Cissy. I know if I can get her to laugh at lunch, she’ll crumble (and I’ll avoid the thrax tournament). My favorite line is: “Talk to me and I’ll brush your tail.” I nod silently. This will work for sure.

That’s when a thud sounds at the class door.

Everyone freezes as all eyes turn to the stranger. A dark figure looms through the door’s small glass window. The intruder’s skin is black and smooth as polished stone. My body tenses.

That looks like Armageddon. Hells bells. He’s coming to kill off the ghouls, just like Mom predicted. My tail arches over my shoulder, ready to strike.

The Old Timer waves the intruder away. “Come back later. I’m in a very important lesson.”

The stranger knocks again, this time hard enough to set the doorframe shaking. “Inspection!” The voice sounds like hundreds of people whispering at once.

My mind races through the different types of demons. Which one would have a voice like that? The sound is grating, mysterious, and completely terrifying. Demonic wrath curls up my belly, preparing me to fight.

The Old Timer crinkles his nose, making his handlebar moustache twitch. “I wasn’t informed of any inspection.”

“Demon inspection.”

The Old Timer straightens his robes and rushes over to the class door, swinging it wide open with a flourish. “Welcome to my classroom, oh mighty demon.”

The figure lurches into the room. Tall and slender, it looks like a smaller version of Armageddon, right down to the fitted black tuxedo. The Old Timer speeds to the demon’s side, gesturing to the room full of students.

My inner demon growls with anger. The Old Timer’s showing us off like it’s dinnertime and we’re so many sides of beef. My mouth stretches into a dark smile. Just try something, you two. Anything.

“Mighty demon, this class is called Lessons in Servitude. Is there a particular skill you’d like to see? Robe cleaning, massage, bowing and scraping?”

“I’m not here to see anything.” The edges of the demon’s thin red mouth twist into a smile.

The Old Timer coils the end of his moustache with one finger. “Then, what are you here for?”

“This.” A bit of the demon’s cheek peels off into a butterfly-like creature with a blood-red body and thick black wings. The creature’s tiny face has bright red eyes, a turned-up nose and an itty-bitty mouth lined with gleaming black teeth. Its dark wings pump furiously, causing its gangly arms and legs to sway in mid-air.

I let out a breath. Now I know exactly what monster this is: a Papilio demon. It’s nasty, but nowhere near as awful as Armageddon.

The demon’s body peels off into more evil butterflies. In no time, little flying demons flutter through the air in one great dark cloud. The humanoid demon’s bulk shrinks into a misshapen lump, and then disappears. In its place, a swarm of Papilio zoom about the classroom, upending chairs and startling students. Some of the little nasties get their arms tangled in my hair. Gross.

A bunch of kids start to scream; their sad cries set off my wrath reflex in a huge way. My eyes burn with rage as I start planning attack vectors and the best ways to skewer Papilio with my tail. It’s bad enough we have to sit in this school and listen to ghoul lies all day long. Demon attacks are off the curriculum.

The Papilio whiz about, pulling stuff out of backpacks, pockets, and purses. They shred books, crush coins into lumps of metal, and pull out hair by the handful. I rise to my feet, my hands balling with rage.

The swarm whips about me, then flips their focus, heading toward the Old Timer’s desk. He stands in front of it, his back against the desktop, his arms stretched forward.

My tail relaxes. The Old Timer gets a turn. Nice.

“Per Article 7 of the Spectral Treaty, inspections are limited to quasis only. This is a ghoul teacher’s desk.”

The Papilio encircle the Old Timer’s desk, tearing through his stuff with a vengeance. The floor quickly becomes littered with pens, papers, and shredded books.

The Old Timer sets his fists on his bony hips. “These are my personal items! I’m a ghoul! I have rights!”

The little demons titter with a hundred whispery voices. A group of them grab one end of the Old Timer’s moustache and pull, hard. It breaks loose with a rrrrip.

The Old Timer’s gray hand pats his upper lip. “How dare you!”

The demons chuckle even louder, then swarm out the room and down the hall. The Old Timer follows after them, shaking his bony fist shoulder-high.

I slip back into my chair, a satisfied grin rounding my mouth. All our failed test papers and bad report cards lie in shreds on the classroom floor. That’s good, but it’s even better to watch a ghoul find out what demons are really like.

Like I’ve said all along, they’re anything but our noble allies.