One moment he was leaning eagerly forward in his chair, watching the rage spread over my face, and the next I had him by the throat, held aloft over my head as his mother shrieked and his father cursed.
“I should pop your pathetic little skull,” I snarled, squeezing his throat until he gurgled and his face began to go purple. His feet twitched, trying to kick at me, as if his pathetic squirming could stop me.
I’d kill them. First Jeremiah, then Meredith, then Victoria, and I’d enjoy every second. The amulet Kent wore, blessed with old magic, prevented me from harming him, but I’d gladly slaughter his whole family and have him watch.
“Leon!” Kent’s voice was loud, but even with the protection hanging around his neck, he didn’t dare to approach me. Meredith was screaming hysterically. Everly watched from her chair, all the blood drained from her face. I laughed, the sound reverberating around the room as my claws dug into Jeremiah’s neck, drawing blood. “Put him down! Obey me! Obey at once!”
“Obey?” I laughed again as I turned to him, holding up Jeremiah with one hand. “Obey or what? What will you do? What will you do without your precious grimoire?” Kent looked as if I’d slapped him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t notice?” I squeezed a little tighter, and a slow squeak came from Jeremiah’s mouth, like air being let out of a balloon. “After all these years, did you really think I’d let you slip up for even a second, Hadleigh? All these years of serving you, risking my life for you as you continue your foolish quest to please a God that will crush you like a bug the first opportunity it gets.”
Kent was shaken, but not down. Instead of addressing me, his eyes looked past me, and I felt a brush of magic against my back.
I glanced back. Everly was standing, tears streaming down her face. It was her magic I felt.
Witch magic.
She was young, and untrained, but I still didn’t want to deal with fighting a witch.
I looked back at Kent as Jeremiah continued to twitch in my grip. “Dismiss me. Now. And I’ll let your son live.”
“Dismiss him, Kent!” Meredith shrieked. “Get rid of him!”
Kent hated to lose. Fury contorted his face, his mind likely grasping for another option. But Jeremiah was limp now, and given a few more seconds, I’d squeeze even harder and crush his windpipe.
“You’re dismissed, demon,” Kent ground out the words. “Leave my presence. Leave this house. Go back to Hell.”
God, it felt good to win. Jeremiah dropped to the floor in a limp heap, and I vanished with a grin and two middle fingers up.
Something was off that day, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
Maybe it was the feeling of being watched as I walked across campus, the bizarre prickling on the back of my neck that told me eyes were on me, but I couldn’t figure out from where. Maybe it was the weird experience of having my Screenwriting Professor, Mr. Crouse, remind me — and only me — that I could come to his office after class if I needed any help. Maybe it was the fact that Jeremiah hadn’t come to school that day, and Victoria couldn’t seem to put her vape down during our entire lunch break. I could smell alcohol on her breath again.
“Family problems,” Inaya said, with a heavy sigh before we parted for our last classes of the day. “I’ve known Victoria for a few years and she struggles when her parents don’t get along. No family is perfect. We just have to try to be there for her.”
Inaya was a better friend than I was. She planned to take Victoria out for coffee after class, but the day’s weird feelings had formed a solid knot of anxiety in my stomach. Once it started, there was no reasoning with anxiety. I just wanted to get home.
I just needed to walk home.
I’d figured those walks home in the dusk would get easier, but no. The sun had sunk beyond the trees, twilight’s dusky golden light filtering through the branches. It was beautiful, but the dark was coming. The clouds had been sparse that day, but on the horizon, a mass of dark, purple-gray storm clouds were brewing, moving ever closer. It would probably rain through the night. The thought of curling up in bed with a glass of wine, watching Scream for the umpteenth time as the rain pattered outside, made me walk faster.
Since delving into investigating the paranormal, I’d trained myself to consider strange feelings and emotions to be a key part of my investigation process. It was pretty common to encounter feelings of dread, cold chills, and panic in haunted locations. So I tried to give my feeling of anxious discomfort the same consideration I would if I was investigating a haunting; I wasn’t going to push the feeling away. It was there for a reason.