Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

The room was changing with every glance, as if I was looking at one of those holographic bubblegum cards that change slightly depending on the angle.

“Allie?” Mindy asked. “Are you okay?”

“I … no. My head feels weird.” What was I supposed to say? Did you know there’s a squid creature attached to you, and it’s Marlin? “I think it must be the drink.”

I think it must be the drink…

That was it! I was absolutely, positively certain of it. Everyone in that room except me was drunk on punch, and none of the kids in that room saw what I was seeing — and what I was seeing was reality mixed in with a little bit of a mirage. Only it was the blood that was the reality, along with the tentacles and the maggots. And the stone table.

The oak paneled study was the fantasy — and the punch induced it. It was spiked with more than alcohol, that was for sure.

But I’d stopped drinking the punch, so I wasn’t drunk, even though Marlin had invited me in because he assumed I was. I only had a little bit of demon juice in me, and so I could see what the room really looked like … and I was scared to death.

Once more, I’d gone on a date, and been sucked into demon-ville. I mean, that’s all great and fabulous once I’m a demon hunter, but right now, I’m a high school student, and it’s not like I’ve got my knife in my itty bitty purse.

In fact, all I had in my purse that could even remotely pass for a weapon was nail clippers.

I drew in a breath for courage, and decided that one tiny pair of clippers would just have to do.

Then I saw two more tentacles sliding across the floor heading straight toward me, and I knew that nail clippers weren’t the answer. I wasn’t ready for this. How could I fight this?

Mom.

The tentacles were only a few feet away now, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, mumbled something about needing to throw up, and turned and raced out the door.

I didn’t know where I was or what I was going to do, but I knew I had to find someplace safe, then hole up and call my mom, so I pulled open the first door I found and lunged into a dingy, dust-covered bedroom filled with moldy, decaying furniture and a stench that made me want to really throw up.

I ignored it and pulled out my cell phone and my nail clippers. I jabbed the speed dial number for home, then opened the clippers and extended the metal file, giving me a weapon that extended about one and a half inches. In other words, completely freaking useless for self-defense against most creatures, but deadly to a demon if I could put that point through his eye. The trick, of course, was not getting dead first.

On the other end of the line, the phone rang.

“Come on, come on…”

One ring, then another and another until finally, “Hello?”

“Mom!”

That was all I said. Because right then Marlin burst through the door, yanked the phone out of my hand, and hurled it through the window. Glass shattered under the force, but I barely heard the noise. Instead, all I heard were my own screams.

“So you know,” Marlin said, his mouth moving, but a deeper voice coming out. “It matters not. This year’s sacrifices have been chosen. Your failure to drink fully of the elixir is of no consequence. What you have seen does not matter. The dead tell no tales, Alison, and you cannot stop us. Judemore will rise. He will feed. And he will bestow his bounty upon me for yet another year.”

He said all of that, and then he smiled. And before I even had time to think that I really didn’t like the look of that smile, he lunged.

And guess what? I was right. My nail clippers with their tiny metal file were no match against Marlin. I needed a knife. A gun. A Civil War replica sword. Something — anything — to fight with.

I had nada though, so I hauled out every martial arts trick I’d learned, and I few that I made up right there on the fly — but he was one hell of a lot tougher than me, and I wasn’t even slowing him down.

I wanted to cry with frustration. More, I wanted to cry with anger — at myself for being such a complete and total idiot. For coming here. For doing everything wrong. And for getting myself, my best friend, and a bunch of kids killed.

Because that was what was going to happen. I knew it the moment Marlin hauled me off the floor and carried me kicking and screaming and beating and fighting into the study. I knew when he tied me to a blood-soaked chair.

I knew when he didn’t pry my fingers open and take my tiny nail clippers, leaving them instead as a symbol of what I couldn’t accomplish no matter how hard I tried.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I tried to listen to what Marlin was saying, but I couldn’t hear through the rush of my fear.