“Sorry!” I would have covered my face in embarrassment, except my hands were somewhat pinned between my chest and Logan. Considering how he reacted to the last accidental touch, I tried to bolt from his arms—but Logan wound his arms snugly around me, holding me upright.
“It’s okay,” he said, chuckling. “If you’d connected with my hand, I’d probably be in a lot of pain right now. That looked like a solid punch.”
“Oh, yeah, the air around your hand is crying in pain right now,” I muttered to the gray shirt button that was eye level.
“Totally has a broken nose,” he agreed in mock seriousness, giving me a barely perceptible squeeze.
“So much for my ability to beat up a demon.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Logan squinted at me, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tickle them to death with one of those feather-topped pens you love so much.”
“I don’t hear you complaining.” I pursed my lips, giving him a “so-there” look.
“You caught me,” he replied with an infectious grin, and I found myself mirroring it, until Logan’s smile faded, a somber expression taking hold of his face.
“In fact,” he began, “I like them more than I should. I think I’ll miss them a lot when I leave.”
I had been holding myself rigidly against him—but I felt myself relax, my hands resting gently against his chest. His heart drummed out a soothing, steady rhythm underneath my palms—a light thudding that seemed to keep time with my own speeding heartbeat. I lifted my chin, locking eyes with Logan, who had a heartbreakingly sad smile on his face. Quickly, Logan dropped his hold, taking a step back as he shoved his hands in his back pockets and peered up at the sky.
“I should get going. Yeah. It’s getting late.”
“Not really,” I replied, confused by yet another sudden change in his demeanor, and my earlier resolve to stop reading into things fizzled.
There’s no way he was only talking about your pens, right?
“I should go,” he said again, like he was commanding himself to leave. When he spoke again, his voice had the same authoritative tone.
“Tomorrow, I’ll get to school early and save you a seat at assembly. Just stay in public places—hallways, classrooms, places where people are. I’ll cut classes after assembly and try to take out Della before lunch.”
“Okay.” I nodded, still reeling from the one-eighty in our conversation. One minute, I’m in his arms—the next, we’re talking about demonslaying.
“Don’t be scared,” Logan said. “You’ve had some practice. And you have a magical sword. And me. You’ll be fine.”
But the next morning, I felt anything but fine as I slid in the worn wooden seat next to Logan in the front of the auditorium—a new vantage point for me, since I was used to sitting in the back.
“It’s all about visibility—demons don’t want an audience,” he explained in a low voice. I glanced back at the darkened rear of the auditorium and realized anyone could be hiding in the shadows underneath the balcony. Anyone who wanted to kill me or kidnap me.
Students in varying degrees of melancholy trudged in. Some were visibly upset and sniffling—others were subdued but nevertheless consumed by whatever was on the screens of their cell phones. Andie sauntered in, undeterred by the somber mood, and glared my way—a glare more venomous than her usual panicked “Paige is a psycho, everybody run” schtick. And then a loud sob echoed through the auditorium, followed by the muffled slapping sound of shoes running on carpet as Pepper fled from the assembly, her hands covering her face, as Matt made his entrance with Della.
“How does he not remember his feelings for Pepper?” I asked, awed. “I thought any memory of a strong emotion could break her spell?”
“Maybe it’s one-sided. There has to be a deep connection between the two—something genuine, you know what I mean?” Logan explained, turning his back to me as his head swiveled to follow Pepper’s sprint out of the auditorium. “But whatever, it doesn’t surprise me that their link to one another is weak.”
“Well, Dottie did catch Pepper hooking up with her ex,” I whispered, and Logan huffed in reply.
“I’ve seen some variation of Pepper and Matt in every town I’ve been to. He’s the popular guy, she’s the popular girl.” He gave me a thumbs-down and blew a raspberry. “It’s like they have to be together or else the world will explode.”
Logan pointed toward the middle of the auditorium, where Matt clutched Della’s hand with both of his, devotedly following her to their seats.
“She’s already started feeding on him,” he observed. I gasped when I saw Matt; his skin was dull, a sickly shade of gray except under his eyes, which were ringed with purple bags. Matt sank into his seat next to Della and sighed in relief, as if the mere act of standing were painful. Meanwhile, Della looked even more radiant—all glossy hair and lush curves and seductive glances. She cast one of those signature looks at Matt, and they promptly began pawing each other like cats fighting over a piece of tuna.
The students in the row next to Della and Matt grimaced at the display and shuffled over a few seats, looking away in disgust.
“Aww, poor Matt.”
The unfamiliar voice came from the previously vacant spot next to me, and I twisted around to see Aiden casually sitting there, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth as he draped his arm along the back of my seat.
I sprang to my feet, and Logan moved quickly to put himself between us, his left arm reaching behind his back to protectively curve around me.
“Get away from her,” he snarled, and Aiden laughed delightedly, languidly stretching his long legs in front of him.
“Oh, really? What are you going to do? Threaten me in front of all these witnesses?” He waved his palm to the row of freshmen sitting behind us, who were openly gaping at us. “Really, proditori, that’s hilarious. I can barely breathe, I’m laughing so hard!”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be breathing much longer.”
“Ooh, you really burned me there,” Aiden said sarcastically, wiggling his fingers in the air before turning his eyes on Logan. “Do you practice one-liners in the bathroom mirror? Or did you hire someone to write those zingers for you?”
Aiden leaned back and jerked his thumb toward Logan as he loudly whispered to the freshmen, “He’s spent too much time with Bellevue Kelly. I guess crazy is contagious.” He spun his index finger in a circle around his temple while crossing his eyes.
“You don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her,” Logan growled, taking a step forward. Aiden jumped to his feet, his eyes popping open. I couldn’t see Logan’s face, but judging by the look on Aiden’s face, it had to be menacing. It was enough to prompt the freshmen to scurry away, finding new seats far from Logan.
“Is there a problem here?” Vice Principal Miller waddled up to us, an angry frown on his sweaty face. “Are you boys aware that we’re at a memorial for a classmate? Or do you think we’re here for our health?” he bellowed, his ruddy face glistening with exertion.
“Of course, sir. We’re just sharing stories about the dearly departed. Such a shame.” Aiden sighed dramatically, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. I shuddered—I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought he was attractive—everything about him was sneaky, sleazy and just plain vile.
“You were one of the last ones to see poor Travis alive, right? In detention?” Aiden asked, his violet eyes open wide with innocence, and the color drained from Miller’s face.
“Take a seat, Adrian...Abe...whatever,” Miller growled, waving his hand toward the back of the auditorium. Aiden mimed tipping a hat to Miller, shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled away—turning back once to wink at me, mouthing, “See you soon.”