Born Again Read online

  “Oh, crap.” Peter turned the open box right-side up again, glanced around for a second, then wrapped the sleeve of his jacket around his hand and used it to pull the stone from the setting in the center of the box. He all but chucked it into the wooden cabinet, and Ben quickly closed the door. When Peter noticed Ben’s raised eyebrow, he just shrugged. “Come on. Do you really want to start testing how long it takes for one of these things to start freezing your skin off?”

  “Point taken.”

  They sat back and watched the wooden cabinet for a minute, but it was completely still and quiet—no thumping around of demon-stone competitors fighting it out betta-fish style.

  “Still think that cabinet wasn’t actually meant for us?” Ben asked.

  Peter stood and headed for the couch. “I’ll let you know.”

  Feeling particularly warm now in his jacket, Ben tossed it off his shoulders and watched the cabinet a little longer.

  “You gonna call Chase, now?” Peter asked.

  Ben stood and joined him on the opposite side of the couch. “Guess I should, huh? You good with Speedy Joe’s tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. My last class gets out at three-thirty. Which I actually have to go to tomorrow, by the way.”

  “Got it. No more free days for the engineering major.” Peter just rolled his eyes, and Ben took out his phone. Of course, he didn’t actually want to call the number Chase had written at the top of the redacted list. That conversation would have been beyond awkward to have on the phone, and they’d be meeting up anyway to try something beyond awkward in person. So he just sent the guy a text:

  —4:30 tomorrow. Speedy Joe’s.—

  And that was it. He had a feeling Chase would have made it perfectly clear if the day and time didn’t work for him, so when he got no reply, he just assumed it was Chase’s way of accepting. He kind of had to assume that, really, with no other option.

  “All right,” Ben said. “Wanna meet there at four? Take some time to figure out how this super weird interview is gonna go?”

  “He better have some good references.”

  Ben snorted, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.

  “Ben,” Peter called a little stiffly. When he turned around, Peter was looking up at him over the back of the couch with something that looked just like total embarrassment. “Leave your phone on super loud. You know, in case these betta demons start going at in the middle of the night or something.”

  12

  Normally, April tried to keep her cell phone out of sight, seeing as all it ever did was add to the noise of meaningless distractions. For the last few days, though, she couldn’t stop looking at it, even after realizing she’d been wrong.

  She’d been so sure that he’d find her new phone number first, that that would be the way he weaseled himself back into her life. Her dreams had been showing her Isaac’s face popping up on her cell phone, so she’d assumed that was where she’d see him. Maybe that had just been her own way of recognizing him; the last time she’d spoken to the guy had been over the phone, before she’d gotten a new one and changed her number entirely.

  So whether her dreams had been warning her or she’d just happened to be on extra high alert, now she actually did have a little problem to worry about. It could’ve been coincidence—maybe—but Isaac had found her in Boston, now. And she couldn’t exactly run away this time. She had a life here—school, an apartment, demon-hunting. She had Ben. Well, sort of, and there were still some really weird, unexplained things there with him, but she couldn’t just give up on it now, whatever it turned out to be.

  Now that Isaac knew she was here in Boston, she expected him to keep digging—to find out where she lived, where her classes were, how to reach her on her new number. And everything she couldn’t tell Ben and Peter made it even worse. She couldn’t tell them that at the end of high school, she’d started dating a real shithead of a low-level narcotics dealer. She couldn’t tell them that, up to that point, the clairvoyant dreams she’d had since she was eight had always kept her out of trouble. Only with Isaac, they’d done the opposite. She couldn’t tell them that when the guy had gotten busted with multiple felony possession charges and a few for aggravated assault, she’d almost gone down with him just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That she’d only escaped that life-changing disaster by a thread because her dad was one of Connecticut’s best defense attorneys. That she’d known the whole time how stupid she was being, so she’d told Isaac and his crew that her name was Arcady and never told any of them where she lived or that she worked at the bagel shop three blocks down from her high school.

  That summer and fall after her senior year had been the wildest, craziest few months of April’s life—well, except for this demon-hunting thing with Ben and Peter, but none of what they were doing now actually hurt anybody. It was completely the opposite. It let her use her dreams for something good again, something that didn’t make her wish she could erase six months of her life and start over. She’d hoped she could have left all of it back in Connecticut, but apparently Isaac had other ideas.

  Then his face kept popping up in her dreams, and she’d glanced at her phone every thirty seconds, thinking he’d finally call or text or threaten her over something. No, instead, he’d only found her in the parking lot with Ben and Peter and that poor kid they’d tried to help at the playground. And she’d almost lost it.

  That was the worst part, that she couldn’t just explain everything to Ben and Peter and hope they’d understand. Yeah, she was keeping a relatively big secret that might or might not actually mess with what they were trying to do here with bagging and tagging the demons they found. And that had really been a relief when April learned these things existed. She’d thought she was the only crazy with a weird secret she couldn’t just walk around telling everybody. She dreamed about the future. Her grandmother was the only person who ever knew about it, and her grandmother had told her she could only tell people she really trusted, people she really believed wouldn’t want to use her because of it.

  That had stuck with her more than almost anything else her grandmother had ever said before she passed. But the thought of sitting down with Ben and Peter to tell them about Isaac—who they’d clearly already kind of met and had no idea—made her a little nauseous now. Because she knew Ben was hiding some other big secret, and she didn’t think he’d tell her what it was even after she confessed everything about Isaac. She could tell him the guy might try to get in their way, might try to trip her up and come after her; they hadn’t ended things on very good terms at all. And even after that, if she revealed all those things, all she could imagine was Ben’s blank stare and his blanketing response of, ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry I forgot to let you know. A spirit told me.’

  When they’d first really tried to hang out, they’d been pretty much on the same level. Well, they’d both been a little freaked out by the fact that a demon had tried to burn down the frat house and everyone inside. Ben hadn’t told her what really happened that night for about a week after that, but she’d known something was up. And he’d eventually sat her down to tell her all of it, clearly crossing his fingers and hoping she didn’t say he needed to be institutionalized. Which she hadn’t; that would have made a serious hypocrite out of her. To prove it, she’d told him about her dreams. And they’d been cool after that—more than cool. She’d thought they might have been headed somewhere remotely directed toward a relationship. Maybe. Despite the fact that Peter clearly didn’t like her very much in the beginning—and still didn’t, only he’d chilled out about it a little—and despite all the weird things they’d gone through in such a short amount of time, it had felt perfectly normal to kiss Ben after they trapped that massively awful demon in the abandoned orphanage.

  It had seemed normal, yeah. And then it had made everything worse. Okay, yes, they’d still kind of been in a hurry to get out of that house, but when he’d pulled away and looked at her, April had seen absolutel
y nothing there. No excitement. No pride. No Ben.

  That was the weirdest thing to deal with. Ben had not existed behind his own eyes when she’d kissed him. Even though it sounded crazier than dreaming of the future and hunting demons all over Boston, she couldn’t help but wonder if the nothingness in him then had been there because she’d kissed him.

  She had to bury that thought way down inside herself, or she’d break down all over again. She cared about Ben. She really did. But since that night in the abandoned orphanage, he hadn’t been the same, and she thought it was because he now had some other secret that was bigger than the past he and Peter shared. Bigger than whatever might have happened between him and April in the future. Honestly, it scared her.

  So now she had this irritating link to her own past running around in a seriously ridiculous hat and calling her Arcady, and she didn’t know how she was going to deal with the Isaac problem and with Ben’s apparently too-big-to-share secret. Plus, now he and Peter actually wanted to give this Chase jerk a chance to ‘show them what he has to offer’. That was a good one. She’d seen the same kind of guy over and over—way too many of them, actually. Chase and Isaac were the same. They talked a big game and told anyone exactly what they wanted to hear until the other person believed they couldn’t keep going without the help of ‘the only person who understood them or could ever make a difference.’ She’d been dumb enough to fall into that trap once almost four years ago. She definitely wasn’t going to let it happen again. And she’d pretty much done everything she could—minus telling them about Isaac—to make sure Peter and Ben knew exactly how she felt about it.

  They could sit down and talk to Chase about that stupid list all they wanted. There was clearly a reason the guy hadn’t just given them all the information he had from the beginning, and April really thought it was because he was just full of it. She wouldn’t go with them to meet Chase, and she wouldn’t say, ‘I told you so,’ either. Even though she really wanted to and would probably still really want to when they came back to say it had been a seriously stupid idea.

  Now, she could only try to get some sleep and wait for Ben or Peter to let her know how it went in a few days. Or for Isaac to finally find her number and start stalking her all over again. Perfect. That sounded like a great way to focus on her second-to-last semester before graduating.

  April hoped that when she did fall asleep, she’d only dream about something that could actually help any of them.

  13

  The next morning, Ben tried to use his time relatively wisely by incorporating the lies he’d told Dr. Montgomery into the newest version of his dissertation. She’d seemed interested enough in his new line of research a few months ago—namely how the modern practice of “ancient rituals” applied to and affected those in today’s society who still employed them—that he knew he wasn’t going to get away with leaving that out entirely. So after three years of taking all his undergraduate work in one direction, he now had to figure out how to change it almost completely without making it look like he’d lost his mind. Yeah, that little loophole still applied to pretty much every area of his life now, and he hated it.

  His attempt to be productive lasted only about an hour, and then he just couldn’t keep his head on it. So he put his work aside and took a nap. Yes, sleeping had always been one of Ben Robinson’s most effective coping mechanisms—or non-coping mechanisms. Either way, it kept him from psyching himself out over meeting with Chase later, so he passed out until about two o’clock. And he actually felt a little better—before he remembered where he had to be in two hours.

  Ben was pretty sure he didn’t actually need any caffeine to help the gross, nervous jitters he’d brought with him from his apartment. But when he stepped inside Speedy Joe’s, he got himself a latte anyway. It would have been weird not to.

  Peter showed up just as the barista set Ben’s coffee down on the counter, and he waited for his friend to get a drink too. The guy looked just about as excited for coffee as he was. They picked a table in the far corner of the coffee shop and only managed to avoid why they’d shown up early for about thirty seconds.

  “So should we make a list or something?” Peter asked, glancing nervously around them almost constantly. “Like of all the things we want from him first if we’re gonna let him… join us? Man, that sounds dumb.”

  Ben tried to laugh, but it sounded almost creepy. “Yeah, and we can redact all of it but the first thing on the list.” Peter frowned at him until he seemed to recognize Ben’s attempt at yet another fantastically poor joke. “No, a list might help. First, though, Pete, I’d say you should probably try to chill out a little. I’m not exactly excited to sit down with the guy, either, but you kinda look like you’re wearing a bomb.”

  Peter shushed at him and leaned violently forward over the table. “Dude, you can’t say stuff like that in public.”

  “You’re not, right?”

  Leaning back in his chair again, Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Of course I’m not. Still.”

  “Okay, I won’t say it again. Just take a deep breath.” His friend did as Ben instructed, and a little color returned to the guy’s cheeks. Or maybe it was just Ben’s wishful thinking.

  By the time they’d briefly gone over everything they wanted to squeeze out of Chase before making their decision one way or the other—though, no, they didn’t actually write it down—it was 4:29. Peter had been checking his phone almost every five minutes.

  Then Chase stepped into Speedy Joe’s, casually stepping up to order his own cup of coffee like he had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. Granted, both those things were still in the coffee shop, but he could have been a little quicker about ordering his drink. The guy didn’t even look their way for the full three minutes it took to get his coffee, and then he turned to the back corner of the place like they’d said that was exactly where they were going to sit. He nodded at Ben and Peter, lifted his paper cup in a silent toast, and headed toward them. Boy, what Ben wouldn’t give to wipe that stupid grin off the dude’s face.

  When he reached their table and pulled out a chair like they’d offered, Ben started to wonder if the guy only had multiples of the jeans and hoodie or if he wore the same thing over and over every day. Granted, he could have washed it between Sunday night and now, but that seemed like way too much work. Ben didn’t exactly put that much effort into washing his own clothes, and he had a feeling this Chase guy didn’t put much effort into much of anything.

  “The girl call out sick?” That was the first thing this jerk had to say.

  “Her name’s April,” Peter said before Ben had the chance. Well, hey, he could give Pete a few points for that.

  “Okay. My bad.” Chase sat in the chair and scooted it closer to the table. “So it’s just us, then?”

  “Yep,” Ben said, trying to keep his expression some form of impassive. He couldn’t let the guy feel like he had something over their heads, which he kind of did. Then again, they had something he wanted, too. “And we’re only staying to talk as long as you do one thing.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re gonna tell us everything we want to know,” Peter added. “Answer every single question. We both have better things to do right now.”

  “Oh, really?” Chase chuckled and shrugged. “Okay. I can answer questions.”

  “Good,” Peter said.

  “Good,” Chase repeated.

  This felt way too much like second grade to take seriously.

  “So first question,” Ben said. He met Peter’s gaze, and his friend nodded. “Why do you want to do this so badly?”

  Chase batted his eyes in an apparent attempt to look impossibly innocent. “Do what, exactly?”

  “Seriously, man,” Peter said through clenched teeth, “we’re not messing around.”

  “Woah.” Chase leaned back in his chair and raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Got it. Don’t you wanna butter me up first before you get to the really person
al questions?”

  “Dude,” Ben said. When Chase looked at him, the guy seemed to catch on to how serious they were about this. No one had a pretend loaded gun this time, but they still weren’t trying to play games—which Ben figured might have been the only thing this guy was really good at on a consistent basis.

  Chase took a long drink of his coffee—while Ben wondered just how much he’d burned his mouth doing it—then set his cup on the table and folded his arms. “Fine. All right.” The guy sat there staring at his coffee cup for so long, Ben thought he was jerking them around again. But before he could say anything, Chase said, “My cousin went through some pretty weird… stuff when we were kids, okay? Same kind of stuff you guys are dealing with, I think. I saw some of it. What happened to her. Only I don’t think anybody else did, and nobody believed her. She’s been at Arbour Fuller for the last fifteen years.”

  “Man,” Peter said. Chase still didn’t look up from his coffee cup.

  “So you want us to help your cousin?” Ben asked. He couldn’t imagine what that would entail if she’d spent all that time in a psychiatric hospital.

  Chase looked right up into his eyes and didn’t even blink when he said, “No. She might not have been crazy when she was eight, but she definitely is now.” Ben felt himself flinch at the c-word used so casually to refer to someone else instead of him, but if Chase noticed, he didn’t show it. “I don’t know if there is a way to help her anymore.”

  “So, what?” Peter said. “You want to redeem yourself now or something? Show your parents you weren’t making it up when you told them what you saw happening to your cousin?” Ben glanced at his friend briefly and almost smirked; being around Chase seemed to make Peter’s gruff confidence pop out of him like a Jack-in-the-Box. After that image, it was even harder not to laugh.