Demon Road. Derek Landy
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rang. Amber hung up, slipped her phone into her pocket while she stood. The room spun for a moment. When she was sure she wasn’t going to fall over, she walked with Frankenstein feet to the window.
There was a patrol car in the driveway.
THE CHATTER IN THE house died away, replaced by a new, unfamiliar voice. A man’s voice. Official-sounding. Amber wished she wasn’t so tired. If she could only get her brain in gear, she’d be able to explain herself. She was sure she’d be able to make the cops understand. She took a few deep breaths to clear her head, and walked unsteadily to her door. She opened it. If they wanted her to emerge with her hands up, they were going to be disappointed. She was far too tired to lift her arms.
From the sounds of things, the others had stayed in the dining room, and Bill and Betty had taken the cops into the living room to talk. Amber stayed close to the wall as she moved, in case she needed the support. She got to the family photo in the hallway – the only framed photograph of the three of them – and stopped. From here, she could look across the corridor, through the open door.
Two officers of the law stood there in full uniform, talking to her parents. The cops were saying something, but Amber couldn’t focus enough to make out the words. She didn’t know why she felt so tired. They all stood in the centre of the room, watching each other. Amber shuffled her shoulder along the wall, then stopped again, concentrated on what the cop was saying.
“…just need to speak to her, that’s all.”
“Amber’s not feeling well at the moment,” Bill said. “Maybe if you come back tomorrow she’ll be strong enough.”
“Mr Lamont,” the cop said, “I understand what you’re doing. Please don’t think I don’t. Your daughter may be in trouble and you want to protect her. I get that. I do. But you’re doing her no favours if you don’t let us speak to her.”
Despite her drowsiness, Amber felt her insides go cold.
“My husband isn’t lying,” Betty said, sounding upset. “If you’d just call Chief Gilmore, I know he’ll vouch for us and for Amber. Whatever you think happened I just know didn’t happen.”
“We’re not calling the Police Chief, we’re not even calling this in, until we’ve had a chance to speak with Amber,” the cop said. “We have two young men who swear that she assaulted them.”
“One sixteen-year-old girl assaulted two men?” Bill said. “And you’re taking them seriously? You’re actually wasting your time with this nonsense?”
“We’ll get this whole thing cleared up if you’ll just let us speak to her.”
Bill put his hands on his hips and shook his head despairingly. Betty looked at him.
“You are such a perfectionist,” she said. The upset she’d briefly displayed had disappeared.
“I just like it when things are neat,” said Bill. “This … would not be neat.”
“I’m sorry, what wouldn’t be neat?” one of the cops asked.
But Bill and Betty ignored him.
“This is a special day,” Betty said. “A wonderful day. For sixteen years, we have waited for this day. What’s happening now is a minor inconvenience. That’s all it is.”
“Mrs Lamont,” one of the cops began, but Bill talked over him.
“It’s already in the system,” he said to his wife. “Already logged.”
“No, it isn’t,” Betty answered. “That one said they haven’t even called it in yet. Gilmore will make it go away. He’s done it before, and for the money we’re paying him he’ll certainly do it again. You might have to drive their car into the marshes later on tonight, just to confuse their colleagues, but why not?”
The officers glanced at each other.
Bill looked at his wife and smiled. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really want to do this?”
“Yes,” said Betty. “I really do.” She took a coat from the back of the couch and put it on, pulling the sleeve down past her wrist and wrapping it around her hand.
“Uh, excuse me?” said the cop.
“So which one do you want?” asked Bill.
Betty nodded to the cop closest to her. “That one.”
“Fair enough,” Bill said, shrugging. “I’ll kill the ugly one.”
“Hey,” said the big cop, but his next words were muffled by Bill’s hand covering his face.
Only it wasn’t Bill’s hand. It was red, and tipped with black talons. Bill’s face was red, too, but different, altered, and he was bigger, taller, suddenly towering over the cop, a red-skinned monster with black horns curling from his forehead, like a ram’s horns.
The demon that had taken Bill’s place slammed the cop’s head against the wall. The head crumpled like an empty soda can.
The cop’s partner jumped back in shock, scrabbled at his holster for his gun, then remembered Betty and turned just as she changed. One moment Betty. The next a monster. Tall. Red. Horned. Her fist went right through his chest, popping out the other side in a spray of blood. The cop gurgled something that Amber couldn’t make out. Betty opened her hand, letting go of the sleeve, and withdrew her arm from both her coat and the cop’s torso.
Amber ducked back as the dead cop collapsed.
“Well,” she heard Bill say, “that’s done it.”
Betty laughed. It was her laugh, all right, but it was coming from the mouth of a demon.
The door between the living room and the dining room opened, and Amber inched forward again to watch Grant lead the others in. They stared in shock at the carnage.
Kirsty covered her mouth with her hand.
Bill turned to them. “We can explain.”
Kirsty rushed forward. “That’s my coat! What the hell, Betty?”
Amber’s knees went weak.
“Can we talk about your coat later?” said Grant. “Right now can we talk about the two dead cops on the carpet?”
“I’ll call Gilmore,” said Bill. “We’ll get it all smoothed over. This is not a big deal.”
“They’re cops!”
Bill-the-demon waved a hand. “We got a bit carried away. We shouldn’t have done it. Happy? It’s low key for Betty and me for the rest of the night, we promise. We kill Amber, and that’s it. No more killing for the week.”
Amber’s stomach lurched and suddenly she was cold, colder than she’d ever been.
“I really am sorry about your coat,” Betty said to Kirsty. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
Kirsty shook her head. “It was limited edition. You can’t get them anymore.”
Amber slid sideways, forgetting how to walk, forgetting how to breathe. Her feet were heavy, made of stone, dragging themselves across the floor towards her bedroom while the rest of her body did its best to stay upright. She fell through her doorway, down to her knees, turned and reached out, numb fingers tipping the door closed. Her mouth was dry and her tongue was thick. Something was happening in her belly and she fell forward on to her hands and knees, throwing up on the rug she’d had for years. She didn’t make a sound, though. She heaved and retched, but didn’t make a sound.
Her parents