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So, fuck.

Guess it’s me against them now.

No Max to guide me.

No sword.

And in the depths of my heart, I’m starting to fear that I might not have Max and his sword to guide me again.

What if he’s never coming back?

You die, I die, he’d said.

But what if that was the point?

“Thought I’d see you again,” the punk-ass kid says to me, walking forward, the other two trailing at his sides like snarling dogs.

“Been looking forward to it,” I tell him.

I take off my jacket and throw it to the ground to give myself more movement, then throw my arms out, feeling the energy burning through me to the palms of my hands.

Waiting.

A soundtrack of building drums and churning guitar gets louder and louder in my head and I start pumping my leg to the imaginary beat, letting the energy get stronger and stronger and stronger.

Then when it hits the crescendo and the music explodes into high gear, pummeled by the bassline, I let GO.

I run.

Straight for the punk-ass kid.

I push off in front of him, the energy firing, making me leap up and do a summersault over his head, expecting to land on him like last time.

But he’s quick. He ducks out of the way, a blur.

I drop to the ground in a crouch as one of the spikey-haired boys comes at me and I’m able to launch myself up again, kicking out against his chest until he goes stumbling backward.

I roll forward, over and over, until I’m straddling his neck with my thighs, holding him to the ground.

He snaps at me and I reach down and grab his head, twisting it to the right then left, then I’m pushing over again until I’m on my knees and his head is still in my hands.

I use the energy to swing him off the ground by his head until his neck snaps and he disappears to dust, the ashes burning my skin.

But there’s no time to take pleasure in my first kill.

The second spikey-haired boy is coming at me, teeth snapping, fingers turning to claws as it swipes at me.

But it swipes at air.

I push off the ground again, go flying over his head, using the gravity and air around me to manipulate me until I’m back on my feet and facing him and the punk-ass.

“That all you pussies got?” I say to them.

As expected, being called a pussy really pisses them off.

So predictable.

They both charge toward me and I wish to god I had Max’s sword, because I could really work some magic here and take off two heads at once, but alas, that’s not to be.

So I jump straight up then leap toward the wall of the alley, pushing off it, doing a back flip until I’m on the shoulders of the spikey-haired fuck and I’m grabbing his head and screaming until I’m able to twist his head right off, tossing it behind me before it turns to dust.

The rest of him crumbles beneath me, and I fall to the ground, landing on my feet.

But when the demon dust settles, sizzling on my clothes, the punk-ass kid is gone.

I blink and then claws are dragging down my back, ripping open my t-shirt, digging in my skin, and I’m screaming.

I spin around, putting my hands out to protect me, but then he’s behind me again, grabbing me by the hair and whipping me through the air until I go flying into the wall.

SMACK.

Pain blinds me, the world starts to fade and I slam into the cold concrete, unable to break my fall.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I can barely move.

My body is on fire.

I think I’ve broken every bone.

But I know he’s coming.

I have to get up.

I have to.

I push off up the ground, trying to get to my knees, but then I see a flash of yellow and the demon kicks me in the head and I go flying backward and everything is pain and stars and black.

It’s black.

I slump against the ground, the energy inside me fizzling.

I have to fight back.

I have to keep going.

I can’t die in this alley.

And if I die, Max dies, and I’m not letting that happen to him, no matter how he feels about the deal.

Get up, get up, get up!

The energy sparks just enough.

I push myself up, open my eyes.

Everything is blurry.

Dizzy.

There’s yellow.

Close.

Too close.

Demon eyes.

Snapping shark’s mouth.

“Do you have any last words?” he asks me.

I spit out blood and snarl, looking at him through a squinted eye.

“Yeah. Your hair sucks, dude.”

He flinches.

Anger in his black eyes.

Mouth opening wide, rows of teeth leading to Hell.

Then two hands appear on both sides of the demon’s head.

Big hands.

Capable hands.

They press against the demon’s head and, with a vicious twist, rip the head right off.

Dust fills my view.

And everything goes black.

Thirteen

“Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol.”

– Feel Good Hit of the Summer