I CAN’T BELIEVE HENRY’S DEAD. EVEN MORE SO, I CAN’T believe what he’s left me to read. But it all makes sense. His journal, his translation of that ancient book on demons, L’Occulto Illuminato, and even the book itself, with the creepy red material used for its binding. It’s exactly the kind of thing H.P. Lovecraft wrote about. He must’ve been one of those, like Henry, who was able to see into that world.
I don’t know why Henry didn’t have them do DNA testing on that binding. If it really comes from a demon, then that would prove everything he’s written is true, and maybe I can use that to stop them . . .
I’m kidding, I’m kidding. The reason my handwriting looks so different is because I’m writing all this left-handed. There’s a simple reason why I’m using my left hand, and I’ll get to it later. Interestingly, though, it turns out I’ve discovered that I’m more ambidextrous than I would’ve imagined, and not just with my handwriting.
That was maybe a little mean of me trying to fake you out and make you think that came from Curt. Sorry. Blame it on me being doped up to the gills on painkillers. But hell, forget about the painkillers. Anyone who has gone through what I have over the last sixteen hours would be more than a little punch drunk even without popping Vicodin. Or maybe even a little insane by this point. Or a lot insane. But forget about that for now. Let me start from earlier on. Maybe when I showed up at school yesterday. Yeah, that would be as good a starting point as any. Then I’ll write about what happened later.
Actually, a better place to start would be when I was waiting for the school bus yesterday. With everything that happened later it’s understandable that I momentarily forgot about beating up Ralph Malphi again, but I guess it shows my state of mind that I’d forgotten about something like that. Or maybe it just shows how insignificant it was compared to everything else that happened afterwards. But I should explain about what happened. People might bring it up later as a way to dismiss me as a crazy person. Besides, more than ever I feel like having an accurate and complete record of what I’ve been going through.
First, before Ralph Malphi, there was Wesley glaring at me as if he were some kind of hardass who was going to get in my face. He didn’t, but that’s the way he acted. Curt was standing by me, and he kept looking back and forth at Wesley and me, finally telling me how Wesley wanted a piece of me. “Dude, take a look at him and tell me that’s not true.”
I was trying hard not to look at Wesley, but allowed myself a glance, and yeah, that’s what it looked like, though I mostly ignored it. I told Curt I didn’t know what he was talking about.
Ralph Malphi, unlike Wesley, I couldn’t ignore. When he arrived at the bus stop, he started leering at me right away, all full of himself as if he now owned me because he was able to smack me in the head Monday and get away with it. After a half minute or so of his leering, he built up enough courage to walk over to me, a big ugly grin in place. His leer had turned more into a sneer, and he demanded all my money for allowing me to keep my teeth. “Yo, prick face, you don’t hand over your wallet and I’ll have to knock out every tooth in your mouth for payment instead.”
I didn’t bother to respond. What would’ve been the point? I guess he had convinced himself that what happened in the bathroom was a fluke since he massively outweighed me and resembled a gorilla while at best I could’ve been a gibbon. He flashed an ugly grin to the rest of the kids watching, and announced how he’d take my backpack from me instead as payment because he was in such a magnanimous mood (the fact that he knew that word showed he’d been studying for his SATs). The dumb ape moved towards me then as if he were going to put me in a headlock, and I went at him fast, first ducking and elbowing him in the groin, then springing up and striking him hard under his chin with my palm. He tumbled backwards hitting the ground, his mouth a bloody mess—my palm strike must’ve made him bite either his tongue or his lip, I wasn’t sure which, but it sure as hell bled a lot. It was just too easy, and he had no chance after that.
I didn’t want to get his blood on me. If I did I would have to go home and change, which would cause too many problems with my parents, so instead of falling on him and punching his face in like I wanted, I just started screaming at him as I kicked him in the ribs, calling him a motherfucker with each kick. I was too mad at him for making me do this to him for me not to. He curled up into a fetal position after my second kick, and even though I had sneakers on, I still managed to hurt him pretty badly. I got at least five kicks in before a couple of the other kids pulled me away.
Malphi lay on the ground moaning for a solid minute. When he finally pushed himself up into a sitting position, his eyes showed that he was both scared and dazed. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t just stand still and let him do what he wanted. There were a few tense moments before he got to his feet. If he went to school all bloody like that, there’d be questions—the principal would get involved, which meant I wouldn’t be able to go to school as I’d planned because of the risk of them searching my backpack. But even if I didn’t go to school, they’d still call my parents, which could also mess up my plans for later. Fortunately, Malphi was too humiliated by the beating I gave him in front of the other kids to hang around because he skulked away, his face screwed up as if he were struggling to keep from bawling. He was also too ashamed to make any more threats against me, or even to look back at the rest of us as he broke into a run and disappeared around the corner.
What I did to Malphi shocked the rest of the kids waiting at the bus stop—including Curt, who had suspected that I had beaten up Malphi earlier. Even Wesley had stopped his glaring and only stared in stunned amazement. The quiet that descended over the two dozen or so kids there was really quite something. Nobody spoke a word while we waited for the bus to show up.
Once the bus came, I sat up front with Curt, and the bus was filled with that same stunned silence. Even the students who had gotten on at earlier stops fell into it. It lasted maybe a minute before the whispering started. Curt just sat shaking his head before asking how I learned to do what I did.
“Don’t know,” I told him, not wanting to get into it.
“Dude, you were like a tornado the way you hit him. Malphi didn’t know what happened. That was outstanding!”
“Whatever. I need a favor. How about I come over to your house after school and I tell you about it?”
“Sure, Henry, won’t be a problem.”
Word of what happened with Malphi spread quickly once we got to school, because when I got to my homeroom, Devin, who was already there, looked at me with bitter disappointment, his demon face locked in a dour frown. I took a seat as far away from him as I could. As soon as Sally came into the room, she hurried to sit down next to me and asked about what happened with Malphi, all breathless and excited. I kept it simple and told her how Malphi tried bullying me and I didn’t let it happen.
“Wow. I heard other kids talking about it. You’re becoming legendary here, Henry.” She placed a hand on my arm as she smiled at me. Even with everything that happened afterwards, the warmth of her hand resting on my arm will be burned forever into my memory. As well as the way she smiled at me. The meaning was clear. As far as she was concerned it wasn’t over after all. I felt my resolve weaken for a moment. She was offering me everything I desired, everything I could possibly want, but it wouldn’t do either of us much good if the gates of hell were allowed to open. Somehow I knew that would be the last time I’d feel her touch, and I concentrated to commit every aspect of it to memory. Then I hardened myself to her. I had to, and soon her closeness barely even stirred anything in me, not even when she moved closer so she could whisper in my ear, her breath hot against my skin, her faint jasmine scent lingering in the air.
“I decided not to let Connor bother me. Whatever he is, too fucking bad.”
God, I wished she hadn’t said that. She whispered it so low that she probably didn’t think he’d be able to hear her, but with his ultra-sensitive demon hearing he heard every word. I scribbled on a piece of paper that we should talk about Devin later. She smiled bravely as she shrugged, trying to show me how unconcerned she was, but I could see a hint of fear in her eyes. No matter what she said, Devin still had her freaked out.
Sally was the only reason I went to school yesterday. She needed me there so she could face Devin, and I needed to be there to make sure he’d stay away from her. I needed to make sure she’d be safe. Maybe I also needed to see her this one last day, especially since I didn’t expect to survive last night.
I didn’t risk looking at Devin. I knew he’d heard what Sally said, which meant he knew for certain that I was the one they were looking for. I didn’t want to see that knowledge in his demon eyes.
After homeroom ended I caught a glimpse of Devin and the angry storm brewing over his demon face. It was little more than pure animalistic rage. I wondered how others saw him at that moment—did he still look like Justin Bieber? I felt a tenseness in my chest as I walked with Sally until we separated for our individual classes. Devin was only twenty feet or so behind us, and I didn’t know what he was planning. One swipe of his demon claw would probably decapitate both of us. I held my breath until I knew he was following me instead of Sally. At least I knew she’d be safe for the time being.
An idea came to me. I slipped into the bathroom, and had my backpack unzipped and my hand clutching the dagger handle by the time Devin followed me in. There was only malicious intent as he came at me. I guess he’d decided to kill me then and there and take his chances of being discovered for my murder. Maybe he’d make sure there was no body left for anyone to discover. Could a demon devour a whole human body? Probably. Whatever he had in mind, he spread the nails on his right claw and moved towards me so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to pull the dagger out from my backpack. As it turned out, I didn’t need to. Even though the dagger was hidden from sight, the symbols etched on the blade did their job and Devin staggered and fell to one knee before he got within five feet of me. He had no idea what had happened to him. I could see the confusion in his eyes as he looked up at me. Then he lowered his face into one of his claws and let out a whimpering moan.
I could’ve killed him then. It would’ve been easy. But I’d have no way of getting rid of his corpse. And I’d be fucked once he was found.
I moved closer to Devin, and with the dagger’s closer proximity to him he lost even the strength to stay on one knee, instead collapsing to the floor. His yellow eyes glazed as he stared at me, utterly baffled by what was happening to him. He had an almost beseeching look, as if he wanted to ask me how I managed to do this to him. I stepped over him and got out of there while I could still keep myself from cutting off his head.
There was no point in going to any of my classes, and I certainly didn’t want to be in them with Devin sitting behind me and plotting how to kill me. I hid out in the library, and after each class I’d catch up with Sally to make sure Devin left her alone, which he did. At this point he was wary of coming too close to me. Maybe these demons knew about L’Occulto Illuminato, or maybe it was only a legend to them, if even that, but I doubted that Devin had any idea why he collapsed in the bathroom.
During lunch, Sally and I sat alone together. I should’ve left campus with her. It was stupid sitting there with her and exposing myself the way I did, especially with Devin sitting four tables away studying me with this intense furrowed look, as if he were trying to figure out what it was about me that made him collapse onto the bathroom floor without the strength to move. Ironically, it wasn’t Devin that I had trouble with, but Wesley. I was so focused on watching Devin watch me that I didn’t notice Wesley come over to my table. I felt a frostiness from his presence before I saw or heard him. When I looked to my right he was standing maybe two feet away from me trembling with what I guessed was a mixture of rage and fear. I didn’t say anything to him and for a long moment he seemed incapable of saying anything to me. Then he called me an asshole, saying it loud enough so that people in the cafeteria turned to look at us.
A hotness flushed my cheeks, but I didn’t respond to him. Sally asked Wesley what was wrong. I didn’t want to hear his answer. I just wanted to be anywhere but where I was.
“What’s wrong is your boyfriend is an asshole and a thief!” he shouted, his voice rising and cracking in his nervousness. “He came to my house so he could drug me and steal a forty thousand dollar comic book from my dad!”
“That’s not true,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sally looking at me funny, as if she was trying to decide whether I was lying or not. Maybe trying to decide whether everything I’d been telling her was a lie. Goddamn Wesley for having to do this!
Wesley, enflamed, shouted back at me, “You’re a liar! An asshole, a thief, and a liar!”
I turned to Sally to implore to her that what Wesley was saying wasn’t true. “I don’t have that comic book,” I told her. “Wesley and his dad sent the police to my house with that same bullshit story, but I don’t have their comic book and the police believe that I don’t. They have to because they haven’t bothered with a search warrant. And if they did they’d only be wasting their time because I don’t have it.”
There were flickers of doubt in Sally’s eyes as she tried to read the truthfulness of what I was saying, and there was just enough of the truth in what I told her to leave her confused, or maybe even leaning my way. My attention was drawn away from her by something cold and wet slapping me in the face. I turned to see Wesley holding an empty cup, his lips twisted into a harsh, rigid smile. He had tossed his soft drink into my face. I could taste enough of it to know it was ginger ale. Ice cubes slid down my shirt and clattered onto the floor. I sat there frozen in my seat while ginger ale dripped from my nose and chin.
“Stand up,” Wesley demanded, his voice quivering with his false bravado, his small hands balled into fists. He looked ridiculous as he challenged me. This awkward stick figure who’d probably never been in a fight in his life. He may have been picked on over the years, maybe been put in dozens of headlocks and thrown to the ground and otherwise treated like a tackling dummy, but I couldn’t imagine Wesley actually ever being in a fight. He was scared to death as he waited for me to stand, but he wasn’t about to back down.
I hated Wesley right then. I hated him for drawing all this attention to me and creating doubt for Sally. But what was I going to do? Beat him up? As angry as I was right then, I understood how betrayed he was feeling, so I just shook my head and told him I wasn’t going to fight him. That just frustrated and enraged him even more. Here he had built up the nerve to do what he did and get in the first fight of his life, and I was refusing to give him the satisfaction even if it would only result in him badly losing that fight.
“You asshole coward!” he screamed, tears now wetting his eyes and worming down his cheeks. “You’re nothing but an asshole coward!”
Maybe Wesley was planning to pull me to my feet and make me fight him, but he never had the chance. Mr. Landry, one of the phys ed teachers, had come running over to grab Wesley, and was quickly ushering him away from the table, ordering him to calm down and to get a grip. The whole time, Wesley twisted as much as he could to face me and scream at me that I was coward. Almost everyone in the cafeteria watched the scene as Landry forced Wesley out of the cafeteria. Devin didn’t. A quick glance showed that he kept his stare focused on me, a bemused smirk twisting his demon mouth as he considered how he could use this. Once Landry and Wesley were gone, all the other kids sitting in the cafeteria turned their attention to me. The silence right then was so oppressive I could barely breathe against it. I told Sally I needed to get out of there, and that there were things I needed to tell her. She nodded, her mouth brittle and her eyes showing the dread she was feeling.
On the way out, I grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped off my face and neck. My shirt collar was wet and sticky from the ginger ale, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Sally and I walked out a side door and headed towards one of the empty baseball fields. I tried to think about what I could possibly tell her so that she wouldn’t think I was crazy—or at least give me the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t afford for her to lose faith in me now, not with Devin still around and looking for any opening to get at me. Sally would be that opening, and Devin knew it.
Once we were alone by the bleachers and far enough away that Devin wouldn’t be able to hear us even if he was lurking around outside the building, I asked Sally if she remembered reading about Clifton Gibson. The way her forehead wrinkled and her nose scrunched up, the name sounded familiar to her but she couldn’t figure out where she had heard it before.
“Two years ago the police found dozens of little children in cages in a warehouse in Brooklyn, New York,” I said. “Terrible things were done to those children, although the police never released specific information on what happened. Clifton Gibson was arrested and found guilty of the crimes.”
Sally’s complexion paled as she remembered. “Of course,” she said, her voice thin.
“What I’m going to tell you now is going to sound incredible, but please believe there’s a chance that it’s true. The same thing that happened in Brooklyn is happening now here in Boston. Dozens of children are being stolen, and for the same reason.” I took a deep breath and told her about Ginny Cataldo and the others that I knew about, and as I did so her face became blank. She didn’t believe a word I was saying. I took another deep breath and carefully removed from my backpack my copy of L’Occulto Illuminato.
“This was written four hundred years ago,” I mumbled as I hurriedly searched through the pages for the section that talked about the rituals the demons needed to perform to open up the gates of hell. Galeotti had drawn several detailed illustrations that showed children in cages and a few of the horrific acts that these demons would perform on these children.
Sally’s knowledge of Italian was rudimentary at best given that she’d only been studying the language since the beginning of the new school year, and hadn’t put in the hundreds of extra hours that I needed to, nor been exposed to the archaic language that the book used. Still, her eyes narrowed and her mouth became pinched as she looked over the pages. I could see her picking out words here and there, but it was those illustrations that absorbed her attention.
“Those monsters in these drawings . . . the book calls them demoni . . . they’re supposed to be demons? Is that what you think Connor is?”
“The drawings are symbolic,” I lied. I had to lie, otherwise she’d be discounting everything I was telling her. “Whether they’re actually demons or an ancient cult who thinks of themselves as demons, it doesn’t matter. I contacted Detective Joe Thomase, the lead investigator for the Clifton Gibson case, and I told him about the rituals outlined in this book. He confirmed to me that those same rituals were performed on those children, but he thought I knew about them only because Gibson had contacted me. But that’s not what happened. I knew what was done to those children because it was described in this book. A book that was written four hundred years ago.”
Sally studied the book more intensely. “Porte dell’inferno? What does that mean?”
“Gates of hell.”
She shook her head and handed me back L’Occulto Illuminato. “You actually believe this?” she asked.
“I know there was a cult in Brooklyn that tried carrying out these rituals. I know there are members in Boston now doing the same.”
Her eyes drifted from me. She wasn’t believing any of this. “And you think Connor is one of them?” she asked, a coolness in her voice. I was losing her. Goddamn it, I was losing her. What I threw at her was too much.
“I know he is,” I said. “Think about it yourself. The way dogs react to him. I can show you in the book about these demoni cult members and dogs. But think also what you saw in him the moment before you thought he was going to hit you the other day.”
There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes again. She wasn’t completely lost. I continued, telling her that the children would be found soon. “Within a week,” I said. “And when they’re found, stories will come out that the same horrific things that were done to those children in Brooklyn were done to the ones found in Boston.”
“How do you know that?”
More of that flicker of doubt in her eyes. She was beginning to believe there was a chance that what I was telling her was true.
“I just know it,” I told her. “So please, just give me a week, okay? If it doesn’t happen, then you can consider me a lunatic.”
That drew a slight smile from her. Of course, I didn’t know that those children would be found within a week, but if it didn’t happen then nothing would matter. I had to hope that when I was killing those demons, I’d find something that pointed me to where those children were being kept.
When we walked back to the building, Sally looked exhausted, maybe even more so than I was feeling. But she promised me that she’d give me a week before making up her mind about me, and that she’d keep away from Devin during that time. As we got within twenty feet of the school’s entrance, she asked me about Wesley and his dad’s forty thousand dollar comic book.
“You stole it, didn’t you?” she said.
I hesitated only a second before telling her that everything I was doing was to find those stolen children and to expose the demoni cult members. A white lie, but in a way close enough to the truth if you replace exposing with killing.
“That’s why you stole it,” she said, “so you could buy that book you showed me.”
Damn, she was perceptive. I couldn’t answer her directly, so I just asked her not to say a word to anyone about everything I’d just told her. She promised me she wouldn’t.
The rest of the day at school was mostly uneventful. No more run-ins with Wesley, but I’m guessing the school must’ve sent him home. Devin kept his distance. I checked in with Sally between classes to make sure that the demon was keeping his distance from her also, and I convinced her to take the bus home with me. She got off at the same stop with me and Curt, and she walked with me to my house so I could ride her home on my bike. She squeezed onto the back of my bike seat like she used to, and soon her arms were wrapped around my chest and her body pressed against my back. As we went past Hanley’s house, there weren’t any cops or police cars out front, so it was a pretty good bet they hadn’t found him. Or if they did, they didn’t know who he was. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to identify him by fingerprints.
With Sally’s body squeezed up against mine and with the feel of her breath on my ear, I soon realized I wasn’t as dead inside to her as I had thought, that there were more than several cracks in the shell I thought I had formed. Before too long my throat felt as dry as if I’d swallowed a handful of sand and a throbbing started deep in both my temples. All I wanted to do was throw away my plans and spend the afternoon with her, but I had to accept that I couldn’t allow myself to do that. I had to find a way to close myself off to her for good, at least at that level, and this time seal every single crack. It would make things impossible otherwise. I’d be dooming her and everyone else. As it was, after I left her off at her home, I became overwhelmed with this heaviness in my chest, and I just started crying like a little kid. It was embarrassing and I couldn’t stop until I got within a block of Curt’s house.
When Curt saw me, he knew I’d been crying but he mistook the reason for it. He gave me this knowing look as he shook his head, his lips pressed into a hard line.
“She dumped you for good, huh?” he said. “Man, that sucks. Was it because of the blow up you had with Wesley during lunch? I didn’t see it myself, but I heard about it. I warned you he was pissed at you.”
“Forget it,” I said. “Let’s go to your room. I’ve got two favors I need to ask you.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, but he led the way to his room and waited until we got there before asking me what I needed from him. His room was pure Goth motif and smelled like stale cheese. It was cramped and messy with dirty clothes scattered about, and bookcases crammed with Lovecraft and other dark fantasy books. Metal skulls and monstrous creatures rested on these bookcases, and the walls were covered with dark fantasy posters. None of these creatures were as ugly or as dread-inducing as the demons that I had to deal with, though.
Curt cleared off some clothes from a chair so I could sit. Making sure that he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the dagger that I had in my backpack, I took my journal and L’Occulto Illuminato from it and asked him if he could store them for me. He was curious—I could tell that from the way he eyed both of them and wetted his lips. He held a palm out so I’d hand them to him. I shook my head.
“That’s part of the favor. You don’t read either of these. At least not now.”
“One of them looks ancient.” He squinted as he tried to read the cover of L’Occulto Illuminato. “L’Occulto? What does that mean, occult?”
“Yeah. It’s written in Italian, so it probably wouldn’t do you any good to look at it anyway. So can I keep them here?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not? The best place to hide them is in plain sight.”
I couldn’t disagree with him. He had hundreds of books crammed in those book cases, many of them leather bound and crafted to look every bit as ancient as L’Occulto Illuminato, as well as dozens of his own handwritten journals. I stuck them on the bottom shelf of one of the bookcases. They blended right in.
“As part of this favor, if anything happens to me, I want you to read my journal and do your best to get it and my other book to someone who can do something.”
A queasy smile twisted his lips. “You’re spooking me, Henry. What’s this about?”
“If I’m able to tell you tomorrow, I will. If not, my journal will explain everything far better than I could now.”
“So you’re going to be all mysterious on me? Okay, whatever. You can tell me about it tomorrow.”
“Okay. Now for the second favor. I’m going to tell my parents I’m spending the night here. If they call, cover for me, okay?”
He nodded, his round face beginning to look pasty, maybe nervous. “You’re sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
“Not now. Maybe later.”
With that I told him I had to get going, that I had a long night ahead of me, and as it turned out I wasn’t kidding. Curt walked me to the door, his face having grown even pastier. He gave me a smile that looked like he was suffering from a bad stomach ache.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, like getting back at Sally for dumping you. You’re not going to hurt anyone, are you?”
“Not a living soul, I promise.”
Which was a promise I was able to make with all sincerity.
My hand’s killing me. I need to take another Vicodin and a break. I’ll be back soon, and will write about my night of killing demons.