Magical Girl Exorcist Squad: Finals Week, Act III (Season 2, Issue #3)

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***

Nicole held Amy tight as her girlfriend struggled to get to her feet. Nicole just gripped tighter- Astra was not allowed to touch her. Astra was not allowed near her. Nicole would stand between the two of them- this monster would not take Amy away. Never. She would never allow it.

And evidently, neither would any of the others: Cass lifted herself to her feet with her telekinesis, crafting an invisible wall between herself and Astra that pushed the deadbeat succubus further and further back towards the door. Debbi shimmered with yellow light as she rushed over with a kitchen knife in hand; Heather flanked her, cracking her knuckles and stomping over to Cass and Debbi’s side; Matt, meanwhile, slowly rose to his feet, went over to the roaring fireplace, and grabbed the hot poker from the fire with an oven mitt. It slowly glowed white with Holy Light in addition to the golden-red from the flames as it transformed into a sword inside his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Amy said as she relaxed her posture, realizing Nicole wasn’t letting her go. “What do you want, Astra?”

“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Cass said. “I want her gone. Now.”

“We’re in total agreement on this one, kiddo,” Debbi said.

Heather cracked her neck. Matt simply stood there, sword gleaming in the firelight as woodsmoke wafted around him.

Nicole didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t give away anything. This monster was almost certainly here to trick them, to lay the groundwork for a trap. And she wanted to hurt Amy. Nicole wouldn’t let that happen.

“Well, I was hoping to have a conversation with my girls, but that’s clearly not going to happen,” Astra said, holding up her palms flat while sporting a smug grin.

“We’re not your girls,” Cass said flatly.

“Well obviously you’re not,” Astra said. “You’re nobody’s. I meant my Amanda and my Deborah.”

Nicole saw Debbi shiver when Astra said that. “I’m sorry, what now?” their leader asked.

“What can I say, I’m as fond of my daughter’s sister as I am of my daughter,” Astra shrugged. “Is that a crime?”

“If you do it, yes,” Cass said.

“Jealous?” Astra said to her.

Cass exhaled, and the wall expanded. Astra was violently shoved into the door, and with a flick of her wrists, Cass pinned Astra’s hands against the wall.

“Hey, come on, don’t destroy this lovely apartment,” Astra said. “I know you’re not accustomed to having nice things, Cassandra, but please-”

“Oh would you SHUT UP ALREADY!” Amy barked. She ripped free of Nicole’s grasp, but then took Nicole’s hands and pulled her forward alongside her. Nicole gulped, but prepared herself. Amy needed her to be strong right now. Strong and stoic.

Amy stood her ground before her birthmother. “Whatever you have to say, you say it in front of everyone. If you don’t want to talk, you can leave.”

Astra cracked her knuckles and groaned. “Fine. I came here to tell you where you can find Belial. I suppose I can tell all of you at once. If I must.”

“You must,” Amy said, eyes narrow.

“Why would you tell us that?” Nicole asked. This was too good to be true- the enemy just didn’t walk up to you and tell you what you want to know. That made no sense.

“Because I know Belial,” Astra said. “He’s one of my lieutenants, the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“That just raises further questions,” Nicole said.

Astra looked at Amy and said, “She’s not terribly smart, is she?”

“Don’t,” Amy hissed.

Nicole glared at Astra. This woman walks in here and starts running her mouth-

“I’m a succubus,” Astra said. “My Sin is Lust. All other succubi are under my command. And I have six subordinates with similar roles. Belial is the Sin of Greed. All greed-type demons are his. And sometimes, Lyle goes way, way off script, does things he’s not supposed to. I need him back where he’s supposed to be, before he does any irreparable damage.”

“And where’s he supposed to be?” Nicole said. This woman probably had a lot of ideas of where people were ‘supposed’ to be.

“Frankly, prison,” Astra said. “He’s a friend, but he’s a lot to deal with sometimes. I mean, he dresses like an albino magician and robs banks for no reason beyond that it’s how he gets his jollies. Not the easiest person to coordinate plans around, let me tell you.”

“That… All makes sense,” Nicole said, chewing on the words.

“Of course it does. I have no choice but to tell the truth when you’re all here, remember?” Astra said, genuine disdain and irritation dripping from her voice. She pointed at Matt and said, “I’m guessing that’s your doing, you scrawny little piece of gutter trash- you’re the only one who’s powers I’ve never seen. Do I have that right?”

Matt exerted a clear, visible physical effort in keeping his mouth closed. It worked… For approximately twenty seconds before he said, “Yes.”

“Hm, I thought so. Well, anyway, if you want Belial, he’s hiding out in a warehouse in Dorchester Heights, 1776 William Dawes Avenue. He’ll be there right now planning his next heist. But act fast- he moves quickly, as I’m sure you already noticed,” Astra said. She smirked and gave a sarcastic wave as she faded away in a cloud of purple smoke. “Good luck, ladies and gentlemen. Taaaaa-taaaa!”

And with that, she was gone.

They all stood there, silently. Nicole’s arms dropped to her sides, and Amy squeezed her hand so tight it started to hurt. It shook Nicole out of the filthy haze of her temper, and she looked over and saw Amy was crying.

Her girlfriend gritted her teeth, and said, “I am getting really tired of people breaking into my home.”

“Hey, let’s all calm down,” Debbi said.

“No, Debbi, I won’t,” Amy said. “I need to do something about this-”

“Amy, you were stabbed. You’re still in shock-”

“I know I’m in shock,” Amy said.

“Amy,” Nicole said. “You’re hurting me.”

Amy looked down, and her eyes bulged, and her face fell with shame. She let go of Nicole’s hand and said, “I’m sorry. I- I have… I have to-”

“You have to what?” Nicole asked, brow furrowing.

Amy backed up and kept backing up until she’d nearly collided with the back wall. “Have to do something-”

“Amy, maybe you should sit down,” Nicole said. This was bad- Amy’s eyes were glassing over, even as the tears poured out. Astra showing up had been the exact worst thing that could have happened- Amy was overworked and tired and stressed from school, panicking because of her exams, ashamed and shocked by losing the fight with Lyle the way she did; that woman showing up had reopened the wound Nicole had sewn shut, leaving it bigger and bloodier in the process.

Amy backed into the wall and slid down to the floor, running her hands through her hair and breathing in and out rapidly. Nicole’s heart ripped in half, any and all comforting words lodged in her throat as they all competed to break free at once. Amy needed help, needed her to do something- Nicole had to act.

Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself into a crouch and held her palms flat as she moved towards Amy. She said, “Amy, can you name the colors around you?” as wordlessly Debbi handed Nicole a blanket from the couch.

Amy worked through the grounding techniques as Nicole put the blanket over her. Nicole sat on the floor in front of Amy, a few inches back so she wouldn’t feel crowded. Slowly, surely, her breathing slowed and steadied.

“Will you stay with her?” Debbi asked Nicole.

“Always,” Nicole said.

Then

Matt shivered in the cold as he stumbled across a snow-drenched road towards the empty warehouse. Pete, Jack, and Tony were waiting inside, hopefully with a fire up and going. Something to push out the cold that had seeped into his bones. Tony was an old man, he needed it warm, and Matt... Just wanted to feel warm again. He hadn't in a long, long time. He wanted to be warm, and he wanted a full belly, and he wanted a home. But that wasn't his life. It wasn't for him. He probably didn't deserve it.

Matt tripped on something under the snow, and he stumbled face-first into the heavy wet whiteness. His face stung as the cold seeped further and further in. How long had it even been since his father had thrown him out? Two months? Three?

Time barely seemed real anymore. Every day was about finding enough food to not starve to death. Hours went by as some sort of ephemeral concept- the only real clock was the rise and fall of the sun.

Matt missed the sun.

Matt missed a lot of things. He missed them so badly he was tempted to just stay there and let the snow bury him, so he wouldn't have to go on living with the fact that he would never have anything nice again.

The sound of heavy footsteps dragging over the frigid pavement and filthy street-snow pulled his head from the ground and made him look. He was glad he did, otherwise he would never have gotten a good look an honest-to-God Yeti.

It had the face of a gorilla, with snow-white fur and black claws on each opposable digit. Its eyes were soulless black pools, its mouth an explosion of fangs and foam. And the look in its eyes was one Matt recognized- hunger. A fellow outcast, trying to find his next meal.

Shame they couldn't be kindred spirits.

Tony was old. Jack had one leg. Pete's hand shook so badly he was useless in a fight. If this thing got into the warehouse, the guys were dead. Matt was dead too, but at least he could go down fighting and keep his friends alive.

The Yeti snarled, tilting its head. Black smoke puffed out alongside drool from its bestial maw.

Matt raised his fists into a boxing stance, the way Mike had taught him. He wished he'd gotten to see his big brother one last time before dying, but that was another thing Matt knew he didn't deserve. He widened his stance and guarded his face as the Yeti jumped at him.

Matt swung. His fist didn't connect, but the Yeti went flying back a hundred yards.

Matt balked as a red streak came down from the dark and cloudy sky and shot at the Yeti. The Yeti yelped as it was raised from the ground and pulled towards the streak, to the witch in a red dress riding a broomstick through the air. Her hands glowed with white light, and she grabbed hold of the Yeti. Black smoke geysered out of its simian orifices, and it shrunk until all that was left was a stuffed animal. Just a toy monkey- Matt thought he might have had one like it once. It dropped to the ground, and Matt went over and dug it up and held it.

The witch sat on her broom, floating five feet in the air. She must have been one of those Magical Girl people kept talking about- there were two of them, one in yellow and one in red. The Red one, this one, had apparently been around longer, but Matt hadn't exactly been able to follow her career. He thought she lived in Providence, though- what was she doing in Southie?

"Are you okay?" the girl said. That was the other strange thing- people said it was impossible to discern any of the Magical Girls' facial features, like they were blurred over through a camera, but Matt could see this girl perfectly. She was his age, with short, curly black hair framing an angular brown face. Her eyes were gentle browns, her eyebrows thick, her button-nose an adorable punctuation mark to it. She was on the short side, small and delicate and cute, though it was harder to tell when she was floating above him like that.

Matt's heart gave a loud THUMP in his chest as he drank in the sight of her. An electric sensation pulsed through him, and suddenly he wasn't cold and tired and desperate anymore. He was warm and everything felt... Everything felt okay. The girl, this beautiful, powerful girl had saved his worthless, undeserving life. And now she was asking him how he was? There was no way- this didn't happen to grody little homeless boys like him.

"Hey, gringo, I asked if you were okay?" the girl asked.

"I- I- I'll live," Matt stammered, eyes wide, voice cracking.

"You got somewhere to wait out this storm?"

"Y-yeah," Matt said.

"Good. I gotta go. Try not to die."

"Thank you!" Matt shouted, too loud. "I- thank you for saving me."

The girl shrugged. "All in a night's work, handsome."

The word handsome echoed in the cavity of his skull like a gong. She was being polite- his face was red and puffy, he was thin as rail from barely eating in a month, and his hair was a greasy rat's nest underneath his hood. But she... She'd said it.

And she flew away, leaving him in awe of that which he'd just witnessed.

Now

The warehouse stood in an abandoned lot, a sea of cracked concrete with weeds erupting out of it. It reminded Matt of the ones he used to crash in during blizzards or rainstorms. Pete, Jack, and Tony showed him the ropes early on for how to survive a Nor’easter on the streets... And now they'd never survive another one with him. Neither would his boss, Daryll. People died around Matt. Always did.

Cass stood next to him, hands jammed into the pockets of her maroon North Face jacket, wind pushing back her long curtain of black hair. She still had no idea. He needed to tell her, but the idea of it made his stomach rumble with a burning acidic tinge. It would be weird, she would think he was weird, or some kind of stalker, and there was no way she would ever wanna go out with him-

But then again, why would she wanna go out with him in the first place? She agreed, sure, but he'd heard that girls did that sometimes with guys they thought were creepy and then never followed up on it. That was what he was- he was a creep. Not to mention homeless gutter-trash who still didn't even have a GED, while she was a vision of beauty with a great sense of humor and a strong capacity for insane badassery. And she was in college- at best, he'd be some towny she took on a pity date.

Still, she deserved to know. Something inside Matt felt that if he didn't tell her, he couldn't live with himself. Maybe that was just who he was- honest.

To a fault.

“This has to be a trap,” Cass said. “There’s no way Astra is being legit.”

“I agree,” Matt said. “But if that’s the case, she managed to sneak it past my lie detector- not easy to do.”

“Yeah, and that just makes me more concerned,” Cass said. “Winona was dangerous, yeah, but she’s also an unstable lunatic with impulse control problems. Someone who can actually make long-term plans and follow-through on them is miles more dangerous in my opinion.”

“Again, I agree.”

Cass smiled, flashing her dimples and her pearly white teeth. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, and he got to see it more and more lately- how could one person be this cool and this cute at the same time? “You’re very agreeable.”

“Maybe you just make compelling arguments,” Matt said, attempting to return her smile. He had no idea if it worked or not- he could never tell what his face was doing- he was reasonably sure his inability to lie applied to what his face said, but he wasn’t positive unless he was looking directly into a mirror.

“Sweet talk will get you everywhere,” Cass said. Then she gulped, looked at her shoes, and said, “Like perhaps to a movie night this weekend?”

“Okay,” Matt said.

“Okay?”

“Okay!” Matt said. No way, no way it was this easy- not for a white trash townie like him, not with a girl like this, a girl who had a future and a bottomless potential.

And yet…

And yet she was looking at him with quivering lips and expectation in her eyes. She stood on her tip-toes and-

“Can I help you two?” a voice from well below the Mason-Dixon line rang out.

They turned around and saw Lyle standing there in the doorway to the warehouse. Dammit.

“We’re here about work,” Cass said. Technically true.

“Is that so?” Lyle asked, wiping what appeared to be soot off his hands with a wet cloth.

“It is,” Cass said. “We’ve heard you’re hitting up banks in the area and making a big show of yourself doing it. We’d like to get involved in that.”

“Oh yeah?” Lyle said with a small smirk as he ambled out to where they stood atop the cement parking lot. “And what, pray tell, would y’all two bring to the table?”

“I know this city on the ground level, and I have an unparalleled talent for breaking into places,” Matt said. Also technically true- he’d broken into quite a few places when he was homeless, mostly for the sake of staying warm and dry during the winter, or occasionally cool and unburnt during the hot, damp New England summer.

“And I have magic fingers,” Cass said. Now that was literally true. It was also something Matt fantasized about quite a bit, but he needed to focus right now- best keep his mind out of the gutter before he blew the operation wide-opened with his terminal horniness.

“Ah see, ah see,” Lyle said. “Hm, tell you what- why don’t y’all c’mon inside so ah can give you a glimmer of what we’re hoping to accomplish, and y’all can tell me if you think yer up fer the challenge.”

He beckoned them inside- so far so good.

The warehouse was sparse and barren for the most part- you could fit an airplane in there thanks to the high roof and the wide walls and floor plan. A series of overhead lights dangled from the ceiling, sprinkling shards of artificial radiance over it all. Over one thing in particular: a very, very large stack of cash money, at the top of which sat three eggs the size of human skulls.

“The fuck is this shit?” Matt asked, confusion echoing in his words and inside his mind.

“That, muh dear boy, is a nest,” Lyle said. “See those eggs there? Those are dragon eggs.”

Matt balked. “You’re joking.”

“Ain’t nothing ahm sayin’ is jocular, muh boy,” Lyle said as he began pirouetting around the nest, motioning with his hands at the eggs. “Dragons love money, riches, treasure. They need it for their nests, ya’ see. Without a horde of treasure, a dragon’s egg can never hatch. And for three of them to hatch, you need a whole heap of treasure.”

“Shouldn’t their mother be handling this?” Cass asked, furrowing her brow. Matt could see the outlines of her fists inside her coat pockets.

“Dragons ain’t exactly the motherin’ type,” Lyle said, his ballet routine intensifying in speed and complexity. “They lay the eggs, but whether or not they hatch isn’t their concern. Most of the time they’ll lay them atop their treasure horde, but they ain’t exactly the smartest creatures in creation- sometimes they just lay them without even realizin’ it.”

“I think I understand,” Cass said.

Matt did as well. Mom hadn’t exactly been present, even before she’d left.

“Me though, I love dragons,” Lyle said. “They’re just as greedy as me, and they’re loyal critters if ya’ raise ‘em right. And I want some new pups in my kennel- that money ahm stealin’ ain’t just for me, ya get?”

“Si, comprende,” Cass said. “Would we get a cut, or-”

“‘Course y’all get a cut,” Lyle said, his ballet turning into a one-demon tango. Matt was reasonably sure he was dancing well, but he wasn’t exactly an expert.

“How much?” Matt asked. They had to sell this- it was an uphill battle, but if Astra was telling the truth, Lyle might legitimately not know who they were. And he knew from experience that someone in their position would ask how much the payout was before agreeing to anything.

“Five percent of the total haul of next job, ta’ each of y’all,” Lyle said. And then he started break-dancing. This fuckin’ guy…

“Five percent of how much?” Matt said.

“Five percent of twenty million greenbacks, boy,” Lyle said as he danced, and danced, and fuckin’ danced.

“A million each,” Matt said. That was… That was just… Holy shit. A million dollars. Maybe that wasn’t the incomprehensibly large sum of money it once was thanks to inflation, but still, being a millionaire was… Tempting.

Stahp it, he thought to himself. You’re not a scavenger anymore, you’re not a thief, you’re not homeless… Actually, I am homeless again, aren’t I?

… Fuck. Stay on mission, Callahan. You’re a good guy now.

“What’s the job?” Matt asked.

“First Unified Bank of the Commonwealth, tonight at midnight,” Lyle said, ending his dance with a flourish of his hands. “Y’all in?”

“Yeah, we’re in,” Cass said.

“Good. Now, y’all ain’t cops or nuthin, are you?”

Cass gave a bitter laugh. “No, we’re not cops.”

“Good, good,” Lyle said. Meet me in this parking lot at 5 PM and I’ll outfit y’all with the gear so you can help open up safe and deposit boxes. They’ll be expecting something big and flashy for muh next performance, so a lowkey night-time heist will throw them all off.”

“Sounds good,” Cass said. “We’ll see you tonight, jefe.”

***

Iris twitched in her seat, her leg shaking as she struggled to pay attention. She’d been able to manage for most of math class, taken down all the notes on the board, solved every algebra problem in front of her, but had not once been called up to the board. Now there was only five minutes until lunch, and she just wanted to leave, just wanted out, just wanted-

“Zack,” Mrs. DeConnick said. The name, that name, his name, her deadname, it was starting to feel more and more… Wrong. Like taking a bath in sewer water. That scared her- she worried about what she was losing, worried some part of herself she’d held onto for so long was slipping away…  “Would you like to come up to the board and solve this problem?”

Zack… Iris, my name is Iris, she shivered… Walked up to the whiteboard and selected a red dry-erase marker. Everyone was staring at her. She wasn’t facing them, but they were all staring at her, and they knew, they had to know, they must see through her, they must known what a freak she was-

Zack solved the problem, and the lunch bell gave a shrill shriek. Iris screamed, her voice shooting up high as she did it, and everyone burst out laughing. Of course, why wouldn’t they- as far as they knew, a nearly seventeen year old boy had just screamed like a little girl because he got mildly surprised.

She hurried back to her desk, shoved all her belongings into her bag, and ran out the classroom as someone behind her shouted ‘trying out for the opera with that scream, Nygaard?’

Out in the hallway, Mark waited for her, leaning against a locker amidst the swirling sea of hungry students. Their school was small enough they only had one lunch period, so at least she didn’t have to go through it without him, or without Monica.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Mark said with a shit-eating grin.

Holy Hannah, what a troll, Iris rolled her eyes. He’d made a habit of calling her that lately, probably because he thought it was funny to call his guy-friend that. For a given value of ‘guy’ obviously, but still, he had no way of knowing that. And besides, Mark was harmless- he was a good friend, and he’d proven that with how he’d stuck by her and helped out over the past few weeks. “‘Sup, nerd?” Iris said, eyes narrow, smile flat.

“Oh you know-”

“If you say ‘the ceiling’, I’ll slap you,” Iris said.

“Is that threat or promise?” Mark laughed.

God, you fucking troll, Iris thought. They walked a few classes down and waited for Monica to come to them. She wore her long blonde hair down that day, face full of makeup desperately trying to hide how depressed she was. Poor thing- she didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask for her boyfriend to dump her, didn’t ask for two freaky older sisters.

Monica hugged her. “Hey.”

“Hey, gremlin,” Iris said. She’d gotten even huggier lately than she’d been before, which was no mean feat.

“Ja, is gremlin,” Mark said as they walked down the halls together.

“Hey, Mark,” Monica said, smiling at him widely. Iris was reasonably sure Monica had a crush on him… And why wouldn’t she? He was a good-looking boy, smart, incredibly nice- her sister could certainly do worse.

They settled into the cafeteria together, finding an unoccupied half of a wooden table atop the tile floor near the far left end, Monica saving their seats while Mark and Iris got lunch for them all. They’d done this nearly every day since Iris had returned to school, and it was…

It was nice.

Much better than dealing with her other so-called friends.

Friend. That’s what Mark had proven he was. Maybe… Maybe she should tell him the truth. Maybe she could trust him with her secret. If she could trust Nicole’s friends, people she barely knew, with such a secret, then maybe a friend she’d had for two years now who’d proven he really bore no ill-will at all was trustworthy.

Iris looked at Mark. Looked into his brown eyes- they were kind eyes, simple, earnest.

“Hey, Mark,” Iris said.

Mark put down his chicken salad sandwich and said, “Ja, beautiful?”

“I-”

“Well, well, well, welllllll,” a nasal voice shot across the table to them.

“Oh, Holy Hannah,” Iris muttered.

“Oh, Golly Gee,” Monica grimaced.

“Oh, faacker,” Mark spat.

The tall redheaded girl who’d stolen Monica’s boyfriend- Morgan Gilroy was her name- sauntered up them, Monica’s dickhead of an ex-boyfriend Ben practically wrapped around her hip like the accessory he was. “Look what we have here- my favorite little group of losers and faggots.”

“The fuck you just say?” Mark said, standing up.

Iris tugged on his wrist, and he sat back down. “Don’t engage.”

“Whyever not- you don’t want your little boyfriend here fighting your family’s battles?” Morgan sneered, wide-eyed. Was she on drugs or something?

Monica said nothing, did nothing, didn’t even look up. If anything, she looked like she was about to cry- just being around this girl shoved Iris’ little sister into the deep, dark chasm of a panic attack.

Not today. Not her sister. Not fucking happening. “Because you’re not even a real person.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me! Who in the fuck walks up to someone at lunch and starts harassing them like this? If I saw that in a movie I’d say it breaks suspension of disbelief because nobody acts like that in real life! What are you, some kind of cartoon version of a high school mean girl? Do you have nothing better to do with your time than enact pathetic cliches you saw in a Tina Fey movie when you were way too young to watch it? Not that you’re old enough to watch it now- seeing as you act like a five year old regurgitating what she sees on tv, I see no reason not to consider you one.”

A forehead vein, loud and purple, bulged in Morgan’s forehead. “You don’t wanna start this with me, bitch.”

Z… Iris stood up, fists bunched, and said, “I have been shot. Stabbed. Burned. Possessed by a demon. Publicly humiliated and assaulted. I don’t care how much money your parents make- you’re about as intimidating to me as a declawed kitten. Now stay away from my sister, or I’ll fuck up your face so bad your parents will go broke paying plastic surgeons to fix it.”

Morgan stared at her, wide-eyed with rage, mouth sputtering as she tried to formulate a comeback.

“Badly,” Ben said.

Everyone, including Monica, stared at him in confusion.

Ben continued, “You’ll fuck up her face so badly that-”

“Oh shut up, Ben,” Morgan said, dragging him away by the wrist.

Iris sat back down, fists shaking at her sides. That felt… That felt…

“That was cool,” Mark said.

“Y-you think so?” Iris asked. “M-Monica are y-you o-okay?”

Iris looked at her younger sister and… She felt like Zack again. Monica was slumped over, tears welled up in her eyes, barely able to keep all the pain and frustration contained. Oh no- oh nonononono-

“Do you have any idea how much worse you just made it?” Monica wailed. “Morgan is in two of my classes, and her friends are in the other two- she’s just gonna come after me even harder now!”

Guilt and shame speared Iris, speared Zack, his sobbing little sister on the ground because he’d put her there, furious with him because he’d been an ass and given into his temper. It disgusted him, made him feel like he’d never be Iris, like he didn’t deserve to be Iris, like he didn’t deserve-

Monica got up and ran out of the cafeteria. Z… Iris jumped to her feet to follow, but Mark tugged on her sleeve and pulled her back down into her seat.

“What are you doing?” Iris said.

“Maybe give her space?” Mark said with a cocked eyebrow.

“I… I dunno, I just- Holy Hannah, I just made it worse. What is wrong with me?!”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed, beautiful,” Mark said, poking her nose.

Zack… Iris giggled in spite of herself, and she felt like Iris again. “Why d-do you keep calling me that? I mean, it’s funny, but like, why d-d-do you keep repeating the same joke again and again?”

Mark smiled. “Is no joke. I just have very good eyes.”

Iris blushed, then chastised herself mentally- best not get carried away. Mark was just taking the piss, and besides, she didn’t like boys.

The last hour of the day lived and died, and Iris and Mark went to Monica’s last class together to pick her up. And she wasn’t there. Iris asked Monica’s history teacher Mr. Marston where she was, and he replied she’d never shown up for class in the first place.

“Shit,” Iris said as soon as they were clear of the classroom.

“Hey, hey, is okay,” Mark said, rubbing her back in a small circle.

“We have to find her,” Iris said.

“Ja, ja.”

“My mom will be done grading papers in an hour and a half- if we find Monica before then and get her to the car in one piece, it should be fine. This will all be fine, we can pretend this never happened, it’ll be fine fine fine-”

“You are spiraling.”

“I am?”

“Look at your hands.”

Iris looked down and saw her hands were shaking. “Ah. Yes.”

“We will find her. I promise,” Mark said, his voice strong and stolid. Iris stared into his gentle eyes and felt…

Felt…

Nope! Nope nope nope nope nope nope NOPE! She thought. She shook her head vigorously and said, “Okay, let’s start looking.”

They prowled the halls, combed the library, checked up with all of Monica’s teachers. They checked in on Mom, briefly, mentioning they were going to meet Monica somewhere before they all regrouped at the car.

Finally, they stepped into the exterior of the campus, its handful of courtyards between brick buildings on a four acre property. The cold November air nipped at Iris’s skin beneath her jacket, and she shook inside her khakis. She hated her clothes. Hated boy-clothes. She missed the dresses she wore when she visited Nicole, missed the feeling of having makeup on her face, missed the feeling of getting to play with her hair without fear of judgment. It had only been a few weeks and it was getting harder and harder to go back playing Zack.

At first, she’d thought she could be both. At first, she thought she was both, that she could switch between the two without issue. But that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was for other people like her, but it wasn’t the case for her. It was becoming more and more obvious to her every day that she was Iris, and that she’d never really been Zack in the first place.

She shook her head again as she and Mark rounded the corner of the basketball court, as the team Iris had been cut from ran drills. Focus, focus, focus, Iris, you have better things to do than get lost in your own head.

They rounded the corner, where they found Morgan holding Monica by the throat, knife in hand inching closer and closer to Monica’s blue eyes.

“Ah, there you are,” Morgan said, turning to face Iris and Mark. Her eyes were a solid black, and the acrid odor of brimstone wafted from her mouth as she spoke. “I was wondering when you idiots would catch up.”

***

Nicole parked Amy’s car in her driveway. Her girlfriend rode shotgun with her cheek pressed against the window, eyes drifting back and forth. “Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t have to be today.”

“Yeah, it does,” Amy said. “They have to know. Astra is making more and more plays- she’s up to something, and my family, my dad especially, need to know the truth about her if they don’t want to get hurt.”

“Okay, and what about the other thing?” Nicole said, squeezing Amy’s hand. “Revealing them both in one fell swoop is a lot.”

“I know,” Amy smiled. “But I want to do this. I’m thinking of it as a good news bad news thing. Good news, Mom and Dad, I’m in a loving relationship with a beautiful and intelligent and kindhearted woman. Bad news, though, is that I’m half-demon and my bitch birthmother is trying to play four-d chess with us all as the pieces.”

Nicole gave a weak laugh, then kissed Amy on the cheek. Her shield hummed nervously inside her chest, but she soothed it with gentle thoughts and feelings. Amy needed her for this. Needed her here, with her. One step at a time before they could save the world- Amy needed to do this, and Nicole needed Amy to be okay. She wanted to give her the world and keep her safe. This was the first step in doing that.

They held hands as they approached the front door of the Donahue family beach house. Amy opened the door and stepped inside, saying, “Mom? Dad? Boys? Are you guys home?”

A spark of light flashed behind Nicole’s eyes, and a vision of the Floodwater came with it. Her demon, still wearing her face, floated atop it lazily, and said to her, “You might wanna get out of here, sis.”

Nicole shook her head as she walked through the house with an increasingly-nervous Amy squeezing her arm. They scanned the house until they found the Donahue family in the living room.

Astra sat with Patrick, Victoria, and the boys, sipping from a teacup and waving the girls in. “Ah, hello you two. So glad you could join us. We were just having a nice little talk.”