The bright lights of the convenience store were a shock after being in that dark basement for what had felt like hours. I pushed open the door, shielding my watery eyes with one hand. The clerk eyed me carefully from behind his shield of Plexiglas. I probably looked like the average pothead on a munchies run. I tried a smile and a wave, but he only scowled and dropped his hands out of sight under the counter, where I was sure he had a gun or an alarm. Maybe both.

Caffeine would make me feel less like a member of the zombie hordes. I grabbed a soda, paid for it, and immediately cracked it open and drained half the bottle in one long swallow. I burped. Then I fainted.

How embarrassing.

A few weeks later, I emerged into the alleyway behind the convention center, sweaty and elated and generally happy to be alive. The charity bout to raise money for Ruthanasia’s reconstructive hand surgery after her tragic “fireworks accident” had been a lot of work to put together but totally worth it. We’d lost the bout, which was no surprise, given that Ruthanasia couldn’t skate and poor Darcy was decorating milk cartons and Missing Children boards. I couldn’t decide if I’d lost or won the battle with the Lord of the Flies, but I was still standing, and that felt momentous.

“Case!” Kyle sprinted out the doors with a huge handful of receipts clutched in front of him like a weird bouquet. “We made over fifteen thousand dollars tonight! Holla!”

“Woo!” I clenched my fist and pumped it. “Couldn’t have done it without you, man.”

“You’re right.” He grinned. “And totally my pleasure. I’m worming my way into Michael’s good graces so he’ll take me on as an assistant coach. Then you’ll have to follow my every command. You know that, right?”

I snorted. “Fat chance.”

He mock-grumbled at me. “Fine. See if I take you out for pizza.”

“Did someone say the magic word?” came a voice behind us.

I whipped around to see Michael grinning at us from the doorway. He’d been maniacally happy ever since he’d found me unconscious in the convenience store. Like the kind of happy that makes people wonder about your sanity and makes the cops question you at length about the disappearance of one of your skaters. But somehow his brother the computer genius had manufactured a pretty tight alibi for him, so the cops had been left with nothing but vague suspicions about Michael’s weird behavior. We couldn’t exactly tell them that he was elated to have racked up his first completed mission as a guardian of the universe.

“I dunno, dude. Is the magic word ‘pizza’?” asked Kyle.

“Yep.”

“Then I did.”

“Cool.” I was starting to feel a little invisible—and a little pouty over it—when Michael picked me up and swung me around in a dizzying circle. Then, with my skates dangling a good six inches off the ground, he kissed me. I couldn’t figure out if my head was swimming from the spin or from the lip-lock. I didn’t care.

“Ahem.” Kyle cleared his throat loudly, and Michael and I reluctantly released each other.

Michael shot an apologetic glance at my best friend. “Sorry, dude.”

“Next time, get a room,” joked Kyle.

“How about I set you up with one of the girls and we get adjoining rooms? I think Ruthanasia is single.”

They started toward the door without me, talking smack and dissecting the bout. They’d already begun to devise new and nefarious ways to torture us at practices. It was so cute that I couldn’t even get mad.

“I’ll just wait here, guys. Don’t mind me,” I called.

Michael raised a hand and waved without turning around. “We’ll be back in a minute!” he replied.

The door closed behind them, and I huddled against the wall. The breeze was starting to feel a little overly cool as my body temp returned to normal after the workout I’d had. I’d skated in at least two thirds of the jams. It probably would have been wise for me to take off the skates, but that would have required effort.

The one minute turned into four, and they still weren’t back. I would have worried, but Kyle texted me: MORE PAPERWORK. WAIT LONGER. The guy even shouted in texts.

I rolled up and down the short alleyway in a belated attempt to give my muscles a cool-down so they didn’t cramp later. And when the trio of demons appeared at the end of the alley wearing Apocalypsies tees and sporting enough teeth to drive an orthodontist to binge drink, I wasn’t even surprised. I hadn’t seen any demon activity since we’d emerged from the factory. I knew it could only be a matter of time.

“Hunter,” said the middle one, and either they were cold too or I scared them, because his voice shook, and he took out a knife and held it up in front of him like he needed the reassurance of steel in his hand.

I rolled my eyes. “Spare me the ridiculous posturing and let’s get on with it already. I know why you’re here.”

The metal door behind me slammed against the brick with a hollow boom. It didn’t feel like a threat, but I’d been wrong before, so I risked a glance. My teammates poured out—Ragnarocker, Barbageddon, Angel Pop, all of them.

“What’s going on out here?” demanded Barbageddon, quickly assessing the situation. She was off the crutches now and ready for some action.

“Hey, Knifey Boy. You’re not messing with my girl here, are you?” Ragnarocker asked, popping her knuckles and moving to flank me.

“Because that would totally suck,” added Barbageddon.

The girls arrayed themselves around me, sweaty-faced, runny-mascaraed, bruised and dinged and totally fierce. Maybe they didn’t know a demon from a doorknob, but if Ruthanasia was any indication, they had enough heart to stand against a horde of demons. The Sentinels seemed to know a lot of things about demons, but I knew hunting. And these girls had the heart to take a stand if only someone would show them how. I could be that someone.

The demons began exchanging nervous glances, backing uncertainly toward the dim mouth of the alleyway.

“I tell you what,” I said. “I’m feeling nice today. We’ll give you a two-second head start.”

I felt the girls shift around me, tensing on their toe stops, muscles preparing to launch into motion. We must have been quite a sight, because one of the demons turned tail and ran.

“This,” I declared, “is for Ruthanasia. And for Darcy.”

“Yeah,” Barbageddon echoed.

“Get them!” I shouted, and we charged forward as one, the blockers leading the way like a battering ram, the jammers clustered on the inside, waiting for the right time to make a surprise strike. But we never got the chance. The remaining two demons took one look at the oncoming Apocalypsies and sprinted for safety. We stopped at the mouth of the alley, hurling taunts after them. It probably wasn’t smart, but it felt so good to laugh in the face of danger again that I joined in.

“Wusses!” I yelled. “Go back to where you came from!”

“You fight like toddlers!” Barbageddon shouted.

I burst into giggles. Sure, I was still afraid. If I hadn’t been a target before, I was one now. But I didn’t have to face the forces of darkness alone. And I’d proven that I wasn’t a poor little cancer girl anymore and never would be again.

Now I was a demon-fighting derby girl, and I wasn’t going to back down. Because I had a life to live, and no demon was going to take it from me.