The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters. Derek Landy
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danced lightly over the keys and in mere moments a group text had been sent.
They sat on the bed while they waited for the others to arrive. Betty asked Amber about school, about her friends, about her job at the Firebird, and she listened as Amber spoke. It was a new sensation for Amber, talking about these things to her own mother. For the first time since Amber could recall, Betty seemed actually interested in her and the life she was leading. She nodded and smiled, probed deeper where needed, and, when they heard the first car pull into the driveway, Betty came forward and kissed the top of her head.
“You make me so proud,” she said softly.
Tears came to Amber’s eyes, unbidden, like a burglar breaking into her home, and proved just as shocking.
“You let the others in,” said Betty. “I’ll help Bill with dinner. Good thing we chose a big duck.”
Amber waited until Betty had left before rubbing her eyes. Her knuckles came away wet. There was a curious tightness in her chest that made her breathe funny. She stood up, took a moment to calm herself. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected that this was what it meant to have a loving parent. It was proving to be an unsettling experience.
The doorbell rang and she answered it. Two of her parents’ closest friends, Grant and Kirsty Van der Valk, lived only five minutes away, so she wasn’t surprised to see them arrive first. What did surprise her was the smile that Grant wore, which was as broad as his chest.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, giving Amber a hug. He’d never called her kiddo before. Never hugged her before, either. He smelled of expensive aftershave, applied with restraint.
He stepped back, still smiling. He had hair that had always reminded Amber of Elvis Presley’s in his later years – though the sideburns were not quite as ridiculous. “How’d it go with that principal of yours today? Your dad told me you spared her job. You’re a better person than me, you know that?”
“That was never in any doubt,” said Kirsty, taking her turn for a hug. If Grant was Elvis, then Kirsty was Pricilla – beautiful, red-headed and so wonderfully vivacious. Today that vivaciousness was directed solely at Amber. “How are you?” Kirsty asked softly, like this was a conversation just between them. “Are you feeling okay? How long have you been having the headaches?”
“Not too long,” Amber mumbled, starting to get a little freaked out by all this. Did she have a brain tumour that everyone knew about but her?
Then Kirsty’s eyes widened. “Good God, that smells amazing. Did you help them cook?”
Amber tried a smile. “They don’t let me near the oven,” she said, and led them into the living room, where they were soon joined by Bill. As they chatted, he stood by Amber’s side with his arm round her shoulder like the proud parents she’d seen on TV.
Then the doorbell rang again, and Amber excused herself. Neither of her parents had any family, so this tight group of friends had long since become a substitute. She supposed, in a way, they were her aunts and uncles, though they treated her with the same cool detachment she’d grown used to.
She opened the door and was immediately swept off her feet.
“Hello, beautiful!” growled Alastair.
Amber didn’t know how to react to this. Her feet dangled.
Alastair laughed and set her back on the ground. Like her parents and the Van der Valks, Alastair Modine was older than he looked. He had an easy, smiling face behind all those bristles, and was more casual than the others, preferring jeans to suits and rolled-up shirtsleeves to a collar and tie.
“Heard you got in trouble at school,” he said, whispering it as though it was a secret. “I knew you were a troublemaker from the first moment I saw you. You were only a few hours old, but I knew. I knew.” He took a moment to look at her. “You look more and more like your mom every day.”
Amber smiled politely, even though she knew this was an outright lie. Betty was beautiful. Amber was plain. Betty was statuesque. Amber was not. These things she knew.
A third and final car pulled up in the driveway. “The others are in the living room,” she said.
Alastair glanced back at the car, then gave Amber another smile and went to join his friends.
Amber stood in the doorway, watching Imelda walk up as the rain started to fall. Her blonde hair was styled and immaculate. Her clothes were perfectly coordinated. Her make-up was flawless. This was all to be expected. Imelda Montgomery was a living, breathing example of a woman who had every box ticked. All except for the smile. Imelda had a pretty face that begged to smile – and yet Amber had never seen her genuinely happy. Not even when she’d been married to Alastair.
“Amber,” Imelda said as she stepped inside.
“Hi,” Amber said, and that was the extent of their conversation. It was all Amber expected. Imelda made even her parents look affectionate.
They moved into the dining room, and Amber ate dinner with her parents and their friends. They drank wine and she drank Coke. The last time she’d eaten with them had been three months earlier, on her sixteenth birthday. Until tonight, she’d never seen them in such a good mood. Well, apart from Imelda who, in fact, had looked even grumpier than usual. But that was Imelda. She was a special case.
Amber hadn’t invited any of her friends to her birthday. Her true friends, her real friends, were all online anyway, on fansite messageboards and forums. She didn’t need to meet any of them in the flesh. Online, she could pretend to be popular and funny and interesting, and she didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone when her smile didn’t light up the room. Online, nobody cared about the wattage.
She endured questions about the possibility of boyfriends and the casual drudgery of school and she was just beginning to enjoy herself when she remembered the taste of that boy’s blood in her mouth. Her appetite vanished abruptly, and she pushed the food around on her plate while the others talked on. Despite what Betty had said earlier, they didn’t discuss the burst of violence that had darkened Amber’s day. She was grateful for this.
“You look tired,” Betty said, leaning across to her.
Amber nodded. “I think I’m going to have an early night, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” said Bill. “Leave your plate – we’ll clean up. You get to bed – you’ve had a big day.”
“The biggest,” said Grant.
The others nodded and smiled their understanding – only Imelda appeared annoyed. More than annoyed, actually. Practically agitated.
Amber was too tired to care about that now. She stood, noticing for the first time that no one else had even touched their dinner, and smiled and said, “Goodnight.”
She got a hearty chorus in response, and she went to her room, closing the door behind her.
Rain pelted the window like machine-gun bullets. Outside it was hot and wet, but here it was air-conditioned cool, just the way she liked it. She wanted to go straight to bed, even though it was just after ten, but she also needed to talk about what had happened to her today. She logged on to the In The Dark Places messageboard.
The Dark Princess said …
Hello? Anyone on?
Mad Hatter99 said …
Princess! Where u BEEN, girl?
*snuggles up closer for a hug*
The Dark Princess said …
Been busy with school n stuff. Having a REALLY strange day.
You seen BAC recently?
Mad Hatter99 said …
Me too! U missed the convo yesterday. What u think of Tuesday’s ep?