A car cruised up the street and I jumped as its headlights passed over me. I stood unmoving on the top step, watching until the car was out of sight, and the street was once again dark and quiet. Then I pushed open the door and entered.

  Inside, the house was dark as pitch. I pulled the pen light from my windbreaker pocket and turned it on. The tiny beam swung around the room, passing over the paintings of landscapes on the walls. I didn’t want to look at them, didn’t want to see the ghost-like naked figures, frolicking. I aimed the narrow beam down the hall toward the study, and started down, making certain I kept my eyes off the walls. I had a feeling if I looked at the paintings, I might run from the house and never come back.

  The smell of incense was gone. The house now smelled slightly musty, which was strange, considering someone had been living here just a few days ago. I told myself it was the smell of hell.

  I reached the study door. It was partially open. I swung it open the rest of the way. Through the shadows, I could see someone seated at the desk. Armando.

  My heart thumped as I swung the tiny beam toward him, fully expecting to see him smiling at me from behind the desk. No one was there. Just the shadowy outline of the high back chair.

  A truck rumbled by on the street outside. Then silence. I stood in that one spot without moving, allowing the frantic beating of my heart to return to normal—well, as normal as possible.

  Once I’d calmed down, I entered and moved to the bookshelves that ran the length of the far wall. I cast the beam of the penlight along the rows of books. There were novels: Dickens, Tolstoy, Melville, Hemingway and Faulkner. While I hadn’t read any of them, I knew it was quite an impressive collection. There were self-help books as well, such as The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. I had to chuckle at that one. Highly effective indeed, but people?

  No title jumped out at me. Matt said I’d know it when I saw it, but nothing grabbed me. I ran through the titles again and was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread. If the book wasn’t here, it had to be somewhere else in the house. I didn’t want to see anymore of the house.

  Click.

  What was that?

  My head whipped around toward the door. I could have sworn I heard a sound coming from down the hall. I stood stone still for a full minute, listening as hard as I could. Silence.

  What if this is a trap?

  The thought invaded my consciousness. Could Matt have lured me here knowing Armando would be lying in wait? After all, he is the devil’s disciple. Armando is his master.

  No. I saw the look on his face. It was sincere remorse—wasn’t it?

  The book I was looking for was not on the shelves. I moved to the old desk and shined the light along the tooled leather blotter. A silver letter opener sat alone atop the desk.

  Armando sure keeps a neat desk, I thought. Yet if you’re the devil, what paperwork could you possibly have? I shined the light along the desk drawers and noticed the bottom drawer had a keyhole. I tried pulling the drawer open, but it was locked.

  If the drawer was locked, that meant there was something of value in it. I searched around the desk for a key, but there wasn’t one. I picked up the letter opener and jammed it into the lock, fiddling it back and forth. After a few futile minutes, I realized I had no idea how to pick a lock.

  It looked a lot easier on TV.

  Next I jammed the letter opener through the tiny space between the desk and drawer and attempted to pry it open. I leaned hard on the letter opener, and it began to bend.

  Snaaaap.

  After a few minutes of some real elbow grease, the old wood around the lock splintered, giving way. I pulled hard on the drawer, and the lock, along with a hunk of old desk wood, fell to the floor. I opened the drawer the rest of the way, shining my light on its contents. The drawer contained more books, but these titles were quite different: Sadducismus Triumphatus, De la Demonomie des Sorciers, Satanism And Witchcraft.

  Ah, finally one in English.

  Among them was a tiny leather-bound book with no title on the spine. I pulled it out, and opened to the title page:

  The Book Of Calls

  An electric chill went coursing through my veins. This was the book Matt was talking about. I was certain of it. I opened the book and began reading.

  Click, click.

  That sound again. This time nearer. I raised my penlight and shined it on the doorway. I could hear something moving quickly down the hall toward me. I knew what it was before it came through the door.

  A moment later Robin came skidding into the door frame, his dark eyes shining like black quartz. His lips were curled over bone white teeth, incisors glinting in the light.

  He was a large, black bull mastiff—a monstrous, snarling, snapping dog.

  Instinctively, I inched backward until my back was against the wall. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  This wasn’t just any ferocious dog. This was Señora Marisol’s familiar, here to guard the devil’s house at any cost.

  He leapt.

  The big dog flung himself at me, like a projectile with a mind. I took a step to run, but he slammed into me, knocking me to the floor. I screamed “Stop! help!” He lashed at me with snapping jaws, slashing my hand with his razor sharp teeth. Then he went for my throat.

  I was lying face up on the floor, the monstrous dog on top of me. My bloody hands were wrapped around his neck. It took every ounce of strength I had to hold him off and keep him from ripping my throat out. But my arms were weakening—his jaws getting closer, closer. Saliva drizzled from his lips, dripping onto my throat.

  As my strength ebbed, fifteen years of friendship with my mother passed before my eyes—fifteen years I’d taken mostly for granted. I promised myself if I got through this, I would never take our friendship for granted again.

  Miraculously, I summoned up a well of strength I didn’t know I had and flung the big dog off of me. He went sailing across the room.

  I was up in a flash, running for the door. I reached out to grab it, to pull it shut behind me, but there was no time. He was already on me, tearing at my clothing, trying again to wrestle me to the floor.

  As we fought, I worked my way out of the room and into the corridor. With the big dog on my back trying to pull me down, I moved farther into the house and around the corner. I figured if I could just get to the basement, perhaps I could escape. The basement door was open, but Robin was on my back, the weight of him again forcing me down.

  Ooof!

  I hit the floor hard, my teeth jarring in my head. I now lay prone on the floor, as Robin dug his fangs into the back of my neck. Pain exploded in my head and neck. Bright stars appeared before my eyes.

  I was losing consciousness.

  It was then I felt something in my windbreaker pocket pressing into my side. Quickly I pulled it out and held it up and away from me.

  The attack stopped, as the big dog sniffed at what was in my hand. Sam’s throw-me ball. It was a gift from Maudrina and the dogs—a gift that might save my life.

  The big dog snuffled at the ball and began to whimper. It was then I realized something else—Robin was a she, a she in heat.

  “Hey, girl,” I said softly. “Smell Sam, don’t you? Sure would like to get with a stud like him, wouldn’t you?” She continued whimpering and cooing at the ball.

  The attack was over for now. My eyes moved to the basement door. I needed to throw the ball through the open doorway and into the basement. I wasn’t much of an athlete. I was especially bad at throwing while lying down. But I knew I would only get one chance at it. If the ball was off target, and didn’t make it through the basement doorway, once the big dog was finished with it, she’d come back and finish me.

  I remembered the football-throwing lessons Matt had given me every day after school for a week. I was horrible at them. He had said, “I hate to tell you this, Megan, but a quarterback has to know how to throw, and you don’t.”

  “Okay, girl. Here goes. Fetch!”

  I flung the ball as best I could. Instantly the big dog was off me in hot pursuit. As she bounded toward the ball, I realized if she got to it before it made it into the basement, I was still a goner. She reached the ball as it bounced and knocked it against the wall. The ball rolled, stopping in the basement doorway. Not good.

  Robin went to pick it up and accidentally nudged it forward. “That’s it. Push it, girl!” I whispered.

  My only hope was that she’d push the ball through the open doorway and into the basement. Slim chance, but it was all I had.

  She looked up at me momentarily and barked.

  Uh-oh. She’s lost interest in the ball, and now she’s coming back for me.

  She took a step in my direction and barked again. I lay still. If she decided to come for me, there would be nothing I could do. Kill her with my bare hands. That was my only choice.

  She turned and moved back to the ball. She bumped it with her nose, and the ball rolled lazily through the doorway.

  Thump…Thump…thump-thump-thump-thump

  The sweet sound of the ball bouncing down the basement stairs greeted my ears. A moment later, Robin dashed through the doorway and down the stairs after the ball.

  I was immediately up and running for the basement door. I reached it, slammed it shut, and locked it. Robin was trapped on the other side.

  I breathed for what seemed like the first time in a long time. As I leaned heavily against the door, I took inventory of myself. My neck had been torn open and was bleeding badly; my hand was bleeding as well, but I was alive. Thank God, I was still alive.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The incantation used to raise Satan was in a language that had been dead for centuries. The ancient Druids had compiled the writings as a way of harnessing Satan’s power to work for good. However, the fear of the day was that once raised, Satan might wreak more havoc than good. Duh! Thus, the wise Druids created a reversal, a second incantation to reverse the first. The feeling was if Satan knew he could be sent back, it would give the priests a certain power over him.

  This was the section of the book Matt intended for me to see. He wanted me to know if I did the reversal incantation properly, I could send Armando back to hell. A ray of hope was finally cracking through the gloom that had engulfed me for so long. I now had the tool I needed to defeat Armando.

  I boarded the bus and moved to the back, where I sat staring out the window. I breathed a deep sigh of relief that Matt hadn’t double-crossed me. In his twisted mind, he cared enough to help me in my quest to free myself and my mother from Satan’s grasp.

  I wondered what would happen to him once Satan knew he had betrayed him. But I didn’t think about it too long, or too hard. Matt deserved whatever horror Satan and hell had in store for him.

  I didn’t go home. I couldn’t go anywhere Armando knew I might be, for fear he could psychically monitor those places and know I had the book. Instead, I got off in Old Town and went to the twenty-four-hour Coffee Haven there. I ordered a double- shot espresso, sat on one of the comfy armchairs in the corner, and began memorizing the incantation.

  The strange words felt odd rolling off my tongue.

  “Ie n’ay cekt que toi.”

  Odd or not, I knew it was important I get them right. I’m a good student. If it’s in a book, I can excel at it. That’s how it had been all my life. Now more than ever, I needed it to be true again. I needed to excel at the incantation.

  At four a.m. I took a break. I had started in on a yawning jag. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy. I wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead. I knew I could do this a lot better with rest. But rest was not an option. I wasn’t sure how much time I had. I needed to learn the incantation now.

  I went outside to get some air. Downtown Glendale was just waking up. The newspaper truck was dropping its bundles in front of the small office buildings. The cleaning crews, who worked all night, were catching rides home. The area was so peaceful and quiet. A far cry from how it would be in just a few hours.

  The morning air was brisk as I walked around the block, breathing deeply to get oxygen into my lungs, trying to get oxygenated blood to refresh my brain. A fresh brain meant a good memory. Another helpful piece of trivia.

  I thought of the many times Suze and I had driven into Old Town to browse antique shops or take in a movie. I remembered all the times I didn’t want to go. All the times I thought I’d rather stay home and watch TV, or hang out with my friends, or do anything but hang out with my mother. Now, as I walked, I was grateful for the times we’d spent and said a soft prayer that there would be more.

  Refreshed from my walk, I went back into the coffee shop, ordered another double-shot espresso, and I went back to memorizing. At six a.m. my phone rang. It was Maudrina.

  “I know you said no phone calls, but I had to know that you were okay.”

  “I am,” I said. “Mission accomplished.” She knew what that meant. I quickly filled her in on the plan before I said: “Hanging up now. You know where I’ll be.”

  “Good. Great. I’ll see you later.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Could you give Sam an extra big hug for me?”

  I owed Sam a special treat for slobbering all over the throw-me ball. It was the only thing that had saved my life.

  “Okay, sure,” she replied to my odd request. “Sam’s a glutton for hugs.”

  “Thanks.”

  After I hung up, I spent the next hour memorizing the reversal incantation. When the hour was up, I knew it backwards and forwards. Unfortunately, that was the easy part.

  With Glendale beginning its daily grind, I walked over to the bus station and bought a ticket to Coolidge, a small city three hours away.

  I got on the bus and took a seat in the back. I had the incantation down cold, and I was sure Armando couldn’t find me here. With the first part of the job done, I could finally relax. Amid the soft hum of the bus tires against freeway blacktop, I drifted off to sleep.

  About an hour into the ride I woke up with a start. It felt as though someone had nudged me. I looked around. There were seven passengers on the bus, none of them near me. It was him. Armando. I was sure of it. Every muscle in my body tensed. I could feel his presence. He was searching for me.

  Megan, where are you?

  The words rang out in my mind. I blanked my thoughts, not allowing him entry. I squeezed my eyes shut tight doing my best to think of nothing.

  You cannot hide forever.

  After a while, I sensed his presence fading. Then he was gone.

  I had taken every precaution to keep him from knowing what I was up to. I didn’t go back to sleep. I sat staring out the window as miles of cactus and scrub brush drifted by.

  #

  “Coolidge,” I heard a voice call, and realized I had fallen asleep again. The driver and I were alone on the bus. He stood by the door staring at me.

  “Thanks,” I said, rising.

  I got off and went into the bus station restroom where I splashed water on my face. I spent the next few hours touring the Casa Grande Ruins. Greasewood and dead mesquite dotted the barren landscape. The monument was a four-story structure of mud and rocks built by the Hohokam tribe around thirteen hundred. It wasn’t much to look at. The house was all that remained of an ancient village that now lay under centuries of dust and debris.

  It was the kind of outing Suze would have loved. It was very much like one of our antiquing outings, the trips to antique shops and garage sales that began right after my father left, and we moved from Phoenix to Glendale. That’s when we became friends.

  I blamed my father. The thought had been lurking in the back of my mind for some time. I knew it wasn’t fair to blame him for our current troubles, but if he hadn’t left, had been man enough to stick it out, we wouldn’t have been in this mess. As far as I knew he never wrote, never called. My mother never mentioned him. This was his fault, and if things didn’t go as planned I would never stop blaming him, even though I couldn’t remember what he looked like.

  When I finished the tour, I grabbed a few tacos off a truck and headed back to the bus station. I hoped this was enough time to recharge my batteries. When I got back to Glendale, I needed to be ready to battle the devil. I pulled out my phone and called Maudrina.

  #

  It was seven p.m. when I arrived back at the hospital. I walked through the sliding glass doors. The power of Armando’s presence radiated through the hospital walls. The Book of Calls had taught me how to sense when Satan was near. I could tell he wasn’t in the building, but he wasn’t far.

  When I got to my mother’s room, she was sitting up in bed.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

  “I had a mathlete challenge in Coolidge,” I lied.

  She shot me a questioning glance. “Really? I thought you were kicked off the team?”

  “They asked me to come back. They need me.”

  This was partly true, and the part that wasn’t, I’m sure she’d forgive me for. There is no way I could tell her I’d spent the day preparing to battle Satan. That wouldn’t have gone over too well.

  “I’m glad you’re back on the team,” she said with an encouraging smile.

  “Me, too.”

  Tran had told me, “If you take too long, you’ll be too late.” I hoped I hadn’t blown it.

  “They wanted to release me today, but I needed a family member to pick me up.”

  “I’m not old enough to check you out.”

  “I know. I thought you could do it with Armando.”

  I stiffened at the thought of doing anything with Armando.

  She noticed the change in me. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just sorry I wasn’t around this afternoon to get you out of here.”

  “That’s okay. Tomorrow’s good.”

  “Yes,” I said with a forced smile. “Tomorrow.”

  We spent the better part of the evening watching TV and chatting. Nothing important, just girl talk. As we passed the time, I realized how precious these moments were. The idle moments that seem like nothing, that feel like you’re just killing time, are actually the important ones.

 

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