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I take a step back and clasp my hand over my mouth, barely able to suppress a scream. My mom’s hand is on my shoulder and she’s dragging me inside, but I hardly find myself able to move as she tries to push me back.
“Trine!“ she exclaims.
I take a few steps back, until we’re inside the house, and she closes the door in front of my face.
The rain is so fucking loud. Is it even rain? Even as she closes the door, I can smell how foul it is, and it’s so overwhelming it almost makes me throw up again. It’s rancid and it feels like it creeps up my nose, making my eyes water.
I bend down as I start to retch. My mom is doing the same thing, her hand on her mouth, her other arm extended against the front door so she can hold herself up.
God, she really does look terrible.
“Mom? Are you okay?“ I cough out the words, though it takes everything in me to speak with the acrid taste in my mouth.
She closes her eyes and straightens up, tears running down her cheeks, black mascara running down her face. “I’m fine,“ she says. I know it’s a lie, but right now, I don’t want to press her.
Not that I think I would be able to.
It’s hard to think with this fucking stench.
“Where are your friends?“ she asks, her eyes still closed.
Fuck. They’re still out there. Their car is getting pelted with fish rain.
I need to get them. I feel for my phone, but of course, I don’t have it. They must still have it at the mental care facility.
But I can’t leave them out there. They’re in the car right now, and in truth, I don’t know if the roof isn’t going to cave.
Because the fish are coming down hot and heavy. It’s incessant. I think it’s getting worse.
I’m scared–terrified, really. The idea that I have to go out there and navigate a storm of fish makes my stomach churn with fear and disgust.
I open the door. My mom says something from behind me, but I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going to let her talk me out of helping them when they’ve always tried to help me.
But as soon as I step out on the porch, my breath catches in my throat as I see a silhouette standing at the end of the driveway.
I’m not sure where he came from, but I immediately know who he is.
Blood and rain drips down his body, his clothes clinging to his skin. He’s breathing hard–like he’s been running.
I shield my eyes with the palm of my hand instinctively, as if that’s going to allow me to see him better. I squint so I can see him better and I have to stop myself from screaming when I realize what he’s carrying.
In his left hand, it’s an axe–the kind I’ve only ever seen in movies or museums. And in his right, he’s holding a fuckingheadby its hair.
MALON
Okay, so this wasn’t how I planned to see her again.
But it’s not like you can just drop a random head in a trash can along the street while the world ends. The police will still come out when a crime happens and this might be a demon, but they wouldn’t be able to know that.
So I have the head of the demon I slayed on the way here. My plan was to get to her mom’s house before she did so we could talk. She might trust me, but I know the exorcists she’s hanging out with have no reason to believe in me.
My plan was to be as open and honest as possible. I also intended on not sounding threatening. Not that it would’ve worked, considering I’m carrying an actual head in my hand, and I don’t think there’s a more threatening stance than this.
I can see her standing on the porch, gawking at me. I know I have to explain, I just don’t know how I’m supposed to. And it feels like there’s an ocean between us.
Not just metaphorically. Aura’s front yard floods as the rain gets harder, a falling fish smacking me in the face while others swim around my ankles. I don’t know how long this rain can keep up for, but being out here isn’t nice. I’m also aware that there are probably people in the neighborhood taking pictures of the weird fish rain and I just have to hope that none of them have seen the man with the head and the axe in his hands.
I have no idea where I’m going to stash either of these things.
