Chapter Thirty
As I step out of the rideshare car, the heavens open.
Still, I stop to hold the door open for Zarmenus.
The rain pelts me, the droplets fat and heavy.
In the distance, there’s a flash of lightning, then a booming thunderclap.
My roommate turned fake boyfriend slowly gets out of the car, as if he hasn’t noticed how hard it’s storming.
As soon as he’s out, I slam the door and sprint all the way to the front doors, trying to be as careful as possible so I don’t slip on the wet pavement.
I reach the entrance and rush inside. Not that it really makes much of a difference.
My clothes are already completely soaked, and my hair is wet and matted down to my forehead.
I look out through the glass door. Zarmenus is walking slowly, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low. It makes something catch in my chest.
He finally comes inside. He, too, is now soaking wet, with his black shirt clinging to his frame.
I’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s a totally different person. I never thought I’d think this, but I miss the way he used to be. I want to see him smile, just once.
“Hey, don’t let him get to you,” I say. “He’s an asshole.”
Zarmenus’s stare is like a knife. “I’m fine, seriously.”
It’s clear he won’t be winning any Oscars anytime soon. As much as I want to keep asking him questions, because he is so obviously not, in any way, fine, that would be prying and he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.
We get into the elevator. As the doors close, I try to think of something to say. I want to be here for him if he’s having a hard time. Seeing him like this, so torn up and dejected, is hurting me in a shockingly deep way. I want to fix this in any way I can.
The elevator lurches to a stop. Above us, there’s a groaning metal sound, like the cables holding us are under intense strain.
This is not good.
The lights start to flicker. I look to Zarmenus, hoping he will have an explanation as to what’s going on.
The elevator doors chime, then open.
What I’m looking at outside should be impossible.
We’re not on our level, not anymore. I’m not even sure that we’re still on Earth.
The hallway outside looks like the hallway usually does, but it’s like it’s been overgrown by flesh-colored vines.
The way they’re spread out over the doors, wall, and floor reminds me of the branching pathways of veins and arteries.
Dull light pulses through them, running from the base farther down the hall all the way to the narrowest tips right by the elevator entrance.
Zarmenus is still staring at the floor, so he hasn’t even noticed.
“Er,” I say, catching his attention. “We might have a problem.”
He lifts his head. “Damn it. I think we’ve slipped into another plane. I’ll get us back, I just need to concentrate.”
A low moan comes from the far end of the hallway. Zarmenus picks up the pendant of his necklace, and holds it between clasped hands. It starts to glow red, the light seeping out.
Another moan sounds, louder this time, and a figure emerges from around the corner.
It’s made of the same fleshy material as the vines covering the hallway.
The thing, whatever it is, is shaped like a human, but doesn’t have eyes or any other facial features.
It’s a monster, and my gut tells me that it doesn’t wish us well.
It raises one hand, then takes a quick step toward us, breaking out into a shambling run.
“Zarmenus,” I say, as I press my back against the wall of the elevator. “Zarmenus!”
The monster draws closer. Its breathing is heavy and phlegmy, and as it comes closer I realize I was wrong before. It does have a mouth, just a big gaping hole in the middle of its face. As it comes closer it stretches, growing larger and larger with every passing second.
I’m so afraid I can barely speak.
The elevator chimes, and the doors start to close. The doors shut right before it reaches us, then the elevator starts to rise. I am still pressed against the wall, my heart is beating dangerously fast.
“We nearly died,” I say.
“Please,” Zarmenus scoffs. “I’m the prince of Hell, remember? No low-level creeper like that is going to kill me.”
“Fine, I nearly died.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, roomie.”
I brace myself when the elevator opens again, half expecting the creeper to be out there, ready to finish the job, but the hallway looks normal.
Zarmenus walks out of the elevator like nothing happened.
I press my hand against my chest and try to anchor myself.
It’s okay. We’re back. I’m safe. Unless there’s some other terror waiting for us in our room, which, judging by experience, there might well be.
When we get to our room, the bathroom door is open. A low groan escapes from the mirror as I shut the door.
Not now, ghoul. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I pull off the hoodie and toss it into my laundry basket. I’m wearing a Yeah Yeah Yeahs shirt Mom got me last year.
Zarmenus stops in the middle of the room and turns to face me. Bell appears on my bed, where it seems she’d been sleeping on my pillow. Her big, black, soul-stealing eyes seem especially wide today. She instantly starts doing circles around Zarmenus’s legs, but he shoos her away.
“I’m fine, Bell,” he says.
She doesn’t give up, doing another lap around his legs until he gives in. I’ve always known that pets can tell when their owners are sad, and it seems pets from Hell are no different.
Outside, rain pelts against our window.
“I’m going to have a shower,” I say.
“Wait,” he calls, stopping me. “Thank you.”
He finally lifts his head to look into my eyes.
“For what?” I ask.
“For standing up for me. I know that must’ve been scary for you, and I appreciate it.”
“Of course. And listen, that guy is just the worst. You shouldn’t let what he said bother you.”
Zarmenus gives me a weak smile. “I know.”
“Seriously, screw him,” I say. “He’s so, just, ugh. He’s a bully, and unfortunately the world is full of them. But he’s the one who should feel bad, not you. Trust me, I bet his life is sad and empty, which is why he feels like he has to tear people down.”
“I guess,” says Zarmenus. He slumps down onto his bed.
Bell jumps up to sit beside him. Absent-mindedly, Zarmenus starts petting her on the head, scratching between her ears.
She starts to purr so loudly I can hear her from across the room, and she starts pushing her little face against Zarmenus’s hand so she gets petted in exactly the way she wants to.
“We can talk about it, if you want,” I say.
“It’s getting to me, I guess,” he says.
“What is?”
“The hatred,” he says. “And the thing is, I understand. I’ve seen the shows, I’ve watched the movies. I get that humans are scared of us. But I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard.”
“I get that,” I say. “But trust me, he’s in the minority.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” He sniffs. “I never got to finish telling you how my parents messed me up.”
I go over and sit on the couch, so I’m facing him.
“The thing is, back home, there’s this, um, prophecy.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was born on the day of a red moon, an event that only happens every hundred or so years.”
“Herald of the Crimson Moon,” I say, remembering his title.
“Exactly. A prince born during a blood moon has long been foretold to be one of the most important demons to ever live. It was told that I am the great unifier, and would be the one to usher in peace between our two peoples.” He starts picking at his nail.
“I was told about this when I was five, and it’s controlled me ever since.
My parents got me the best demon tutors from all over Hell, and they all worked to turn me into who I was prophesied to be. ”
“I can’t imagine that kind of pressure.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ve handled it that well.
I tried, but it’s hard, you know? Everyone always expected me to be perfect.
And maybe it was na?ve but when I got here I thought maybe I could have some fun for the first time in my life, and do what I want for a change.
I should’ve known it’d only get me in trouble. ”
“Is this why that guy is bothering you so much?”
He nods. “I feel like I’m failing.”
“You’re not!” I say. “You’re trying so hard, and I don’t know much about demons, but it seems pretty unfair to put that much pressure on one kid.”
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“Really?”
“Everyone back home always treats it like it’s a great honor.”
“I’m sure it is, but it sounds hard, too.”
He sits up a little straighter. “You don’t know this, but I was really trying to get you to like me when I first moved in. It hurt when I found out you wanted to leave.”
It did? He moved right past that.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should’ve talked with you more instead of bottling things up. Because I did like you, I just found it hard to live with someone.”
He laughs softly. “You’re being polite, I was pretty unhinged.”
“I understand it now,” I say. “If you’d been controlled like that your whole life, no wonder you wanted freedom.”
The sadness lifts from him like a fog. “I appreciate you saying that.”
“No problem.”
“I wish I knew how to not care. Or for the positive voices to be as loud as the negative ones? I know a lot of people like me, but when someone doesn’t it eats at me.”
“I think you’re describing how every human feels.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“In that case,” he says, standing up. “I’m going to stop thinking about them.”
“Good call.”
“Thanks, roomie. You made me feel better.”
“I’m glad.”
“Would you mind if I posted that photo?” he asks. “I think it’s time the internet knows we’re together.”
“Go ahead,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the quiver in my voice.
I’m still not used to the increased attention I’ve gotten on campus, and I’m sure if he announces to the entire internet that we’re dating it’ll get even more intense.
I remember the person filming us at the bowling alley, and wonder if the news is already out. Our work might already be done.
“You sure?” he asks.
“I am,” I say, more confidently this time.
He takes out his phone and shows me the picture. We’re standing side by side. He’s smiling and has his arm slung over my shoulder. It has a caption: my guy ?.
With the picture and the caption, we truly look like boyfriends. A strange, fluttering jolt races through my chest.
Outside, rain smashes against the window. Inside, the room is toasty and warm, probably because of his demonic magic.
His eyes meet mine as he hits Post.