Danielle Ellison: Salt

This could be the key to getting everything I lost when my parents died. Everything.

Including myself.

I can’t give it up, not now, not when I’m so close. None of them can understand that, because they don’t have limitations.

“I need some air.” I push my way past my grandparents and Connie when she reaches out for me. I grab the muddy, stinky tennis shoes and some salt that Gran keeps stocked by the front door on my way out. I cram my feet into the shoes, no socks and all, and I run.

My shirt is sweat-glued to me by the time I arrive at the park, and the sky is darker. My legs are jelly, wobbling and useless. Sort of like my essence. Zing. I stop to catch my breath. The sky is dark gray and I still have to run all the way back home. Home, known today as the place dreams go to die.

Think of your future.

There’s a sound, a crackling that echoes toward me like a bottle breaking. I look around the park, but there aren’t many people around. A guy with a dog, a couple making out in between some trees, a woman and her son on the swings. Maybe I’m hearing things. It’s been a long day. Too long. I can’t believe I had magic—and that it’s already gone.

The streetlight above me flashes on. It’s quick. Most people wouldn’t notice it, since it’s still daytime. I twist around in my spot, but there’s nothing there. All the Nons look safe, making out on benches and climbing monkey bars. The breeze that was blowing has stopped.

A demon is here. When one is around, it can affect the natural order of the universe. Lights come on that were off before, or turn off that were on. Breezes can stop. Snowstorms can stop. Even if it’s a momentary flicker, we know it means something else; we’re trained to know.

I sniff the air and the sulfur fills my nose. It’s definitely here. There should be another indicator of where it is—and this time I have salt, so no besting me. Maybe I’ll be two for two today. That would be a record up from zero. I put my hand in my pocket, triple-checking that the little purple bag of salt is still there.

I turn around the corner and push my way through some trees. As soon as I break the trees I’m in a clearing and see a putrid yellow demon crouched over a male Non. The demon looks up, bright-lime eyes on me, blood dripping from its mouth.

The demon licks its lips. My eyes dart to the Non. He’s sprawled out on the ground, not moving. Is he dead? There’s a laugh from the demon before it lunges the few feet toward me. It’s midair, and I’m pulling out the salt, when it screams and falls back to the ground. Over my shoulder, I see Enforcers circling me from all directions, salt guns blazing. Four Enforcers, two pairs to this one demon. Someone shoots again, and the demon howls as a blond Enforcer pushes me toward the trees.

“Get out of the way,” he tells me. His voice is surprisingly deep. “You shouldn’t play with demons.”

The blond and his partner take care of the demon. He throws more salt on it, while she starts the incantation. The other pair of Enforcers checks the Non’s pulse and whisper quietly. At least, I think it’s quiet. I can’t hear over the incantation and the demon howling.

“Is that Non dead?” I ask quickly.

None of the Enforcers answer me. The demon howls one last time before exploding into pieces. It was awesome, but I don’t want to dwell.

“Is he dead?” I ask again, louder. All four people focus in on me. It’s a little unnerving, especially with the badge taunting me from their shirts. Every Enforcer wears the sign of the Triad—and I want one.

One of the women moves toward me, her brown hair a mess of curls. Her companions wave their hands around, cleaning up the demon remains. She stops a foot away from me.

“You should go. This really isn’t a place for a kid,” she says.

I cross my arms. “I’m not a kid. I’m in testing.” Not technically. Not yet. Two more days.

“Even more reason to go. If you pass, you’ll be tired of seeing this,” she says. Her eyes are soft for a moment, and then she shakes her head. “Go. That’s an order.”

She turns on her heel back to the Non. I start to protest when I see someone on the other side of the woods. At first, it’s a bit of brown, and then bright-blue shoes that I remember from earlier. Carter is here. He sees me, too, and points toward the parking lot before disappearing through the trees.

Carter’s waiting in the parking lot, his arms crossed over his chest, when I get there. “Fancy meeting you here.” Fancy, indeed. Twice in one day. Weird coincidence. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again, Pen.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. I hate that name. My parents used to call me that—no one else. Not Ric. Not even Connie. Especially not him. He doesn’t even know me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I try to play it all cool, even though things are spinning too much to be normal. I feel sick, like I ate too much chocolate, and I’m not sure why. I huff and cross my arms, trying to calm my stomach. “Are you stalking me now? Factoid: you’re not supposed to be seen.”

Carter steps toward me, and I catch a scent off him. Whatever it is smells a little like nutmeg. A nutmeg boy. Geesh, stop smelling the strange boy, Penelope.

“Maybe I wanted to be seen.”

“Well, then you’re not a very good stalker,” I say. I’m seriously going to vomit. What is wrong with me? It feels like my stomach is trying to claw out of my chest.

“I’m not a stalker. I told you, I’m a tracker. There’s a difference.”

“Not much,” I say. “You were tracking it here, the demon. Why?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential,” he says.

Confidential, right. I roll my eyes. “Great. Good thing I don’t really care.” I totally care. I take a step away from and stumble; my hands are still shaking, my legs. I really feel strange—maybe I ran too hard. He reaches out to steady me.

“I’ve been told I make girls weak in the knees,” he says with a smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I yank my hand away from him and wipe imaginary dust off my shirt. I flatten my hair back with my shaky hands, which only makes it worse since it’s a sweaty mess, and I have to will myself not to fall over. I feel like a teeter-totter. I never liked those things.

“Are you okay?” Carter asks me. “Do you need to sit down? You look pale.”

His sudden sympathy makes me nervous.

“No, I need to go. I have a thing,” I say.

I move on without him, but he follows me. “Let me walk you home. You seriously don’t look good.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I say.

“No, I didn’t mean—” he starts. There’s a sigh, like he’s not sure what he’s going to say, and then that smile again. I bet that thing is perma-glued. “After this afternoon, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“About that,” I say. I turn back around to him. “You can’t tell anyone I did that. I’m a minor; it’s against the rules.”

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket and raises an eyebrow. “Not if it’s in self-defense.”

Great, a rule-breaker who knows all the rules. “I just don’t want anyone to know about it, okay? Not right now.”

“Why don’t you want anyone to know that you expelled a demon?”

“It’s not that,” I say quickly.

Carter nods slowly. “It’s the fact that you had trouble expelling the demon. I can see how that would be a problem.”

I cross my arms. “You could have a problem too if anyone found out you were tracking demons.” Demon hunting. The Enforcers won’t like that he’s breaking protocol—and I have no doubt that their disapproval will look like a party compared to what happens when they report an unauthorized demon hunter to the Triad. That is one thing that no one messes with.