Demon Guard Page 16

  “Hey.” Peter reaches out and squeezes my hand. “It’s all right. You’re at the academy. Nothing can get past the spells guarding this place.”

  My smile is wobbly, but I force it to stay in place. “You’re right. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” His fingers tighten again, then he spins around when the bell rings and Instructor Jones stomps through the door.

  “Today we will begin learning the specific powers and abilities of different demons,” he starts the lecture with no greeting. “By the end of class, you will know each of the classifications within the three categories of demons, as well as how they are most effectively neutralized and killed. You will have a test over this material on Wednesday, so be sure to take notes.”

  I open my notebook to the first empty page and write the date at the top. Pencil poised, I look up, ready for the lesson.

  Instructor Jones picks up a dry erase marker and begins writing on the white board. “Lesser demons are simple, and much of human lore correctly reveals how to kill them. For vampires, a wooden stake to the heart. For werewolves, make it silver. Succubi and incubi require iron weapons to fatally wound them. Witches and warlocks are more human, and will succumb to any fatal blow, no matter the material of the weapon. But evading their protective spells and attack curses are more difficult than avoiding the strength and speed of the other races.”

  I frantically write the information down using abbreviations when possible. Instructor Jones continues without pause. Several of my classmates take notes on their laptops, and their fingers fly across the keyboards as they try to keep up. Typing might be the faster method, but I prefer writing my notes. I memorize information more easily this way.

  “Mundane demons are categorized based on their grade. Grade one demons are the closest to lesser demons. They are the most mindless and subservient grade. They will, without doubt, answer to a higher demon, doing its bidding in exchange for protection.”

  The scene from the bar fills my mind. I see the hunched mundane demons clearing paths for their superiors. It’s a small miracle none of them had bitten any of their victims.

  Purple irises flash in front of me. I purse my lips. Maybe it wasn’t a miracle. Maybe the higher demons had commanded the mundanes not to poison anyone.

  “Grade two demons are more intelligent, but barely so. They still serve higher demons without reservation. It’s not until you encounter a grade three mundane demon that you will see one of the creatures acting for itself, sometimes living separate from any higher protector.” Instructor Jones stops writing the names of the categories on the board and begins walking down the aisles.

  “Though their strengths and powers vary, all mundane demons can be dealt with by using a silver weapon. Ninety percent of missions are to neutralize mundane demons. That’s why all Guardians are assigned silver weapons upon graduating from an academy.” He stops beside my desk.

  I finish writing the last sentence before I stop and lift my head. Instructor Jones’s eyes rest on my covered forearm, and it takes everything I have not to tuck my arms under the desk. I clear my throat. He lifts his gaze.

  There’s curiosity in his expression, as well as disapproval. I’m not bothered by the latter. It’s no secret the instructor doesn’t like me. But his curiosity makes me wonder how much he knows about what happened to me on Thursday. Would Headmistress Meyer tell the staff everything? I wouldn’t think so, but the way Instructor Jones watches me says he might know more than I think.

  I meet his stare without blinking, and I’m proud when he’s the one who breaks the impromptu staring contest. Instructor Jones continues down the aisle and resumes his lecture. He discusses the vulnerable body parts on lesser and mundane demons. Nothing is too surprising. The throat’s a good target. Gut wounds are effective. Stabbing between the 4th and 5th ribs on the left side of lesser demons is likely to hit the heart. Mundane demon hearts aren’t as easy to reach, as their torsos are often large and hunched over, adding an extra layer of defense from a strike. The best way to kill them is decapitation or stabbing them in the gut or lower back.

  Instructor Jones returns to the front of the room. He assesses us down the length of his crooked nose. “Any questions before I continue?”

  Several hands lift into the air.

  “Yes, Miss Fredericks.”

  The timid red-head, whose name I’ve learned is Nicole, looks more confident than she had last week. “Why don’t Guardians use silver bullets instead of swords?”

  Crossing his arms, Instructor Jones looks primed to belittle someone. “Let’s contemplate that as a class, shall we? Anyone have any ideas why Guardians don’t waste their time using bullets to neutralize demons?” His tone and word choice are dismissive.

  Seriously. He’s such an ass.

  I bite my lip, determined not to participate in his ploy. But there are others who don’t share my objection to his demeaning teaching style.

  A new set of hands raise.

  “Miss Thibodeaux?” He calls on Lauren.

  “Demons are quick. They can dodge bullets more easily than a sword in close combat.”

  “True for some,” Instructor Jones replies. “But that’s not the only reason. Anyone else have an idea?”

  He calls on Peter next.

  My friend drops his hand with a shrug. “Bullets are only good for one use. It would be expensive to replenish pure silver bullets.”

  “Very good, Mr. Michael,” Instructor Jones pastes on a fake-looking smile.

  “Give me a break,” I mutter. He doesn’t even pretend like he’s not sucking up to Peter.

  “What was that Miss Van der Klay?”

  I meet the instructor’s angry glare. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure? It sounded like you said something. Don’t be shy. Share your knowledge with the class.”

  I clasp my hands together. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Ah.” Instructor Jones smirks. “Don’t feel bad. Not everyone can contribute to a productive conversation as well as others.”

  My nails dig into my palm, but I don’t respond to his insult. Neither do any of my fellow classmates. Which is surprising. I look to my right. Nicole meets my eye, and I see sympathy in her expression. The same goes for the two guys sitting behind her. I feel a little better knowing not all of my classmates are antagonistic or patronizing jerks.

  “What about higher demons?” Peter asks, breaking the tension building between me and our instructor. “How do we kill them?”

  Instructor Jones lips turn down. “Did I call on you Mr. Michael?”

  “No, sir,” my friend feigns regret. “I’m sorry.”

  “Forgiven… this time.”

  I scoff. No one else would’ve been treated so kindly.

  “Like mundane demons, higher demons require silver to penetrate their flesh, but the weapon must have holy fire if a Guardian wishes to kill such a demon,” Instructor Jones reveals. He returns to the board and writes down the information. I ignore my lingering irritation and do the same.

  “All Guardians can access Holy Fire through a sigil, but mastering the flames takes concentration and practice. It takes most Guardians years before they successfully impart Holy Fire on their weapons, and even longer to maintain the flame there.”

  I think of Chicago. Logan had wielded a flaming sword with ease. I try to do the math. That means he mastered Holy Fire at the age of eighteen or nineteen. No wonder Headmistress Meyer and Master Donohue let him draw the extraction sigil on me. He’s obviously gifted.

  Anticipation builds in my chest as I consider asking Logan for help drawing sigils. It’ll have to wait until I’m eighteen, but that’s not that far away. Imagine how awesome it’ll be if I can impart Holy Fire on a weapon before I graduate the academy. The thought brings a wide smile to my face.

  “Miss Van der Klay,” Instructor Jones barks at me. I jolt in my seat and meet his annoyed stare. I feel dozens of eyes land on me, and I get the feeling that wasn’t the first
time the instructor had called my name.

  “Yes, Instructor Jones?”

  He waves a piece of paper in the air, and that’s when I see the classroom door is open. Someone’s delivered a note. “You’ve been summoned, Miss Van der Klay. Take your belongings. You’re going to miss half of today’s lecture, but I still expect you to be prepared for the test on Wednesday.”

  “Yes sir.” I’ll get the notes from Peter after dinner.

  I quickly shove my pencil and notebook into my bag and take the note from his rough fingers. I duck out of the classroom without a word, closing the door behind me.

  I open the note to see where I’m supposed to go when I hear, “Let’s go, mentee.”

  I jump back and give a little squeak. Wide eyes meet Logan’s. He’s leaning against the wall near the stairway, dressed in a dark shirt and pants. His black hair falls in a messy style, and I have to force myself not to ogle him. Seriously. It’s ten am. No one should look so good this early in the day.

  “Logan?” I find my voice, and I hate that I sound breathless. I clear my throat and say more strongly, “What’s going on? Has something happened?” I can’t imagine why my mentor would take me out of class.

  “We’ve got intel on your demon.”

  Violet fills my vision. I know exactly who Logan’s talking about.

  I scowl. “He’s not my demon.”

  Logan smirks. “Whatever you say. I’m going on a scouting mission to check out if our source is correct. I thought you might want to join.”

  I’m stunned. “But… only second year students get to go on scout missions.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to come?”

  “NO!” I say quickly. “Let me change. I’ll meet you in the main building.” Before he can reply, I rush past him and shove open the door to the stairway.

  Behind me, I hear Logan chuckle faintly.

  I ignore how the sound makes my heart beat a little faster, I pick up my pace. Logan’s been charged with investigating the demon’s interest in me, and I won’t miss this opportunity to find out the truth myself.

  Twenty-Two

  Back in my dorm room, I trade my academy uniform for a pair of dark leggings and a black V-neck. I don’t know what Guardians normally wear on missions, but I don’t think I’ll go wrong by trying to match Logan’s attire. I slip on my trusty leather jacket, and run out of the room.

  I’m at the main building within five minutes. Logan’s there, spinning a key chain on his forefinger. He eyes me up and down, and I must pass his silent test because he says, “Let’s go.”

  Pushing down my nervousness, I follow him out into the main driveway. In the distance, I see the gates are closed and four guards are pacing the perimeter of the academy.

  “It’s just an additional precaution,” Logan supplies, seeing where my attention has gone. “The council likes to be careful.”

  I look up at him, shielding my eyes from the bright sun in order to see his face. “Am I even allowed to leave campus?” It hits me that I promised Vivian and Charles I wouldn’t leave the academy. I don’t want to break a promise, but I also don’t want to miss out on the chance to go on a real mission. This is the type of experience that will help me become a better Guardian.

  Besides, I’m sure Logan wouldn’t ask me to come along if he thinks it’ll be dangerous. At least, I hope not.

  My mentor meets my gaze. “Students aren’t prisoners at the academy. They can come and go as they please.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?” he challenges.

  “Does Headmistress Meyer know I’m leaving? Does the council know I’m joining your scouting mission?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m your mentor, and I promised to keep you safe. That means not leaving you in the dark, though there are those who would disagree with me. If the higher demon is really interested in you, it’s important to find out why. It’s important for you to know why. Only then can we formulate a strategy to neutralize the threat and keep you safe.”

  “I—” I don’t know what to say. I appreciate the fact Logan is going against the others and including me in this, but I worry what will happen if the others find out. Still, I don’t object to his decision. Instead, I say, “Thank you.”

  He nods. “Sit in the back. Once we’re past the gates, you can move to the passenger seat.” He motions towards a black Escalade with dark tinted windows.

  “But I thought students could leave whenever they wanted,” I point out.

  The corner of his lip lifts in a sardonic smile. “Call it a precaution.”

  Shaking my head, I heed his instruction and climb into the back seat. Logan waits for me to get settled before closing the door behind me.

  Once inside, I buckle my seat belt, determined not to make the mistake of forgetting to do so ever again. I watch Logan walk around the front of the SUV, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. With them on, he looks like bad boy in a romance film.

  He hops inside and starts the ignition. “Slouch down until we’re past the guards.”

  I scooch my butt forward and do as he says. The Escalade rolls to the gate. I’m stunned when Logan doesn’t roll down the window. From my lowered position, I see him wave a hand at the guard on the left side of the vehicle. I don’t see what the guard does in return, but the sound of shifting metal tells me the gates are opening.

  “You can come up front now,” Logan tells me when we stop for a red light.

  I sit up and scramble over the middle console, careful not to touch Logan in the process. I buckle my seatbelt and sit back with a sigh.

  “What?” Logan asks.

  I look at him. “That was easier than I thought.”

  He smirks. “I’m a Guardian. The guards have no reason not to let me leave academy property.”

  “Right.” Logan’s youth makes me forget he’s a respected member of Shadowguard society.

  We drive in silence for a few minutes. I try to distract myself from the fact I’m alone in a car with Logan Hendricks by counting all the red cars we pass, but the diversion doesn’t last long.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a warehouse on the other side of Long Island.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s where my contact’s seen a hoard of mundane demons camping out.”

  “A hoard?” I ask.

  “At least twenty.”

  Oh my god.

  “And we’re going there alone? Just the two of us?” I’m not ashamed to admit the idea is terrifying.

  Logan gives me an indulging glance. “It’s a scouting mission. We’ll be far away, undetectable by their demon senses. I promise it’s perfectly safe.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  I chew my bottom lip and stare out the window. I don’t ask any more questions. Before long, Logan pulls into a junk yard. The expensive vehicle stands out like a sore thumb in the sea of rusty and rundown cars. He parks between two tall piles of metal scrap heaps and kills the engine.

  Logan turns to me and holds out his hand expectantly. “Give me your arm.”

  “Why?”

  He waves his stylus in front of my face. “You need sigils.”

  “Oh.” I extend my forearm.

  His fingers are cool against my skin. He holds my wrist with his left hand and begins to draw with his right. I watch, mesmerized, as he easily draws a sigil. I recognize it as the enhanced strength sigil. I raise my eyebrows. I thought he said this mission would be safe.

  My questioning look goes unanswered as Logan moves on to draw a second, unfamiliar sigil. A chunk of hair falls over his eyes as he bends forward with focus. This sigil is more elaborate than the other, with increased lines and curling patterns.

  When he finishes, I ask, “What’s that one for?”

  “Enhanced vision,” he replies, turning the stylus on his own arm. He
gives himself the same sigils and nothing else. No beacon sigil. He must trust we won’t be in danger.

  I turn away to keep from admiring Logan’s handsome profile. I search the junkyard for any sign of movement, but I detect nothing.

  “Where’s the warehouse?”

  “Half a mile away.”

  “Really?” My eyes snap back to him.

  “Yes.”

  I put two and two together and look down at the strange sigil on my arm. “Will this really let me see that far?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yep,” Logan smirks. “Now, do you have more questions, or can we get set up to scout?” He reaches into the backseat and grabs a bookbag.

  I press my lips together and hold back the dozens of other questions I have about what we plan to do. I decide to sit back and follow Logan’s lead, digesting anything and everything I can about a Guardian scouting mission. This is an amazing opportunity for a first-year student, and I’m determined to take advantage.

  We move through the junk yard. I follow Logan’s steps, careful not to disturb any of the debris scattered on the ground. I can’t help but marvel at my mentor’s grace. He moves efficiently, but with purpose. I wonder if such movement is part of Guardian training, or if Logan’s just naturally stealthy.

  We don’t stop until we reach a shed. “We’re going up there.” Logan motions to the rickety roof. He laces his fingers together and squats. “I’ll give you a boost.”

  Dipping my chin, I place my right tennis shoe in his hands and brace my hands on his shoulders. My breath hitches when I see how close his face is to mine. His eyes shift to my neck as I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Bounce three times. On the fourth, I’ll push you up and you can grab the edge of the roof.”

  “Got it.”

  “Alright.” He dips his legs, and I dip with him. “One. Two. Three. FOUR.”

  I extend my leg and push off his shoulders, reaching up. The edge of the roof digs painfully into my palms, but I don’t let go. Using the momentum from Logan’s shove, I guide myself up until my stomach is over the edge. I drag the rest of my body onto the roof. I hear noise below. The next thing I know, Logan is crouched beside me, looking primed and ready to fight.