What do you mean Spring Break is cancelled?” Darla O’Brady had complained to Ms. Alvera during Spanish class that Friday before.
“I’m sorry, but the school board said that Spring Break, regardless of how it has been named, caters to the Judeo-Christian collective and is therefore discriminatory to all other faiths, beliefs and creeds. Beyond that, it interrupts the testing schedule they have planned for this year,” the Spanish teacher said with a tone of annoyance. “Besides, don’t you want to finish the school year early?”
“But I don’t want to lose spring break!” Darla had shouted back.
“Hear here!” I chimed in, huffing with great distaste at lost surfing time. I had been planning on spending the entire week on the beach. Most of us were.
Ms. Alvera looked directly at me with disappointment. “You too? Honestly, Eve McAllister, I would have thought you would have wanted more time to seriously study. You aren’t religious.”
Lowering my sunglasses that usually hid my orange eyes, I said with as direct a glare as possible, “I am too. I celebrate Easter and Christmas. Besides we want more holidays, not less.”
Several of my classmates cheered, though Ms. Alvera looked flabbergasted. They never cheered for me, but then they never expected a girl like me to speak up against a teacher either. Lately it seemed that the school board was looking for ways to take all the fun out of life.
“Be that as it may,” our teacher said before closing her textbook with an attention getting slam. “You are all to arrive at school Monday morning with bright and shining faces.”
Melissa Pickles cast our teacher a huff and turned to her classmate. Matthew McGovern turned to his group with a plotting look in his eyes. Already I could hear their plans to picket, though the imps that flew over their heads talked about burning down the teacher’s lounge or even the school. Of course the imps always suggested extreme things. Not that it would happen. I knew most of us would be at school, bright and shiny faces or not.

I didn’t want to get out of bed that Monday. My sister Dawn certainly didn’t get up. My reluctance wasn’t just because we lost our traditional vacation week, but that I had been out and about the night before stretching my wings, and I stayed out longer than I ought. Actually, I’m entirely not human and most of the town knows it by now. I was adopted, but my parents raised me to be just like everyone else, or at least tried to. No one can choose their genetics, and being the birth child of a vampire and an imp would not have been my first pick as a gene pool to draw from. Still, that was what I was.
Getting up, I went through the usual routine: grabbed my clothes, showered, slathered on tons of high SPF suntan lotion, got dressed, fixed my hair the best I could without a mirror since I lost my reflection last Halloween, and hurried onto breakfast. Just before I went downstairs I checked with my hand to make sure my wings were tucked and flattened into my back in the place where all anyone could see was two strange birthmarks that look more like tattoos.
Mom was in the kitchen making up some pancakes for Dad and her, looking like the perfect blond homemaker we see in TV commercials. Will, my oldest brother, slumped against the table though, stirring around his bowl of cereal with his spoon looking doubly put out since it was his senior year, and he had plans for this spring break. Travis, my other brother, was busy scraping the burnt part off of his toast. He looked more likely to stab the thing, his temper just as irritated as I felt. Only Dawn wasn’t down yet.
“Eve,” my mother said to me as soon as she saw me come down the stairs. “Hurry and eat.”
I smirked. My irises were probably red. Both my brothers glanced up once as if to look at them and then both looked down again at what they were doing. My orange eyes always turned to red whenever I got hungry.
Trudging the rest of the way down the stairs, I hopped off the bottom step and walked to the kitchen table, picking up one of the plates my mother had set there. Then I took up a pancake.
“Can’t we just skip school and say we went?” I at last asked, looking over to my mom.
Her eyes peered over at me as if scandalized.
“Yeah, Mom!” Travis suddenly chimed in. Will also looked up, starting to smile. “If Eve suggested it, it can’t be that bad to do!”
But Mom just shook her head and eyed me as if she was not sure it was me speaking. “Don’t be ridiculous. Eve just wants to go surfing. Besides, you both have tests today.”
“Don’t remind me,” Will said as he slumped down again.
“I think they did that on purpose,” Travis snapped. He dropped his toast onto his plate, picking up the other one to scrape at it. “They knew everybody would want to ditch even if they cancelled the vacation.”
“I think we should stage a protest,” Will muttered into his soggy flakes.
Frowning, I knew Mom would not like that.
“No you won’t.” Her voice sounded stern. Her hands were already on her hips.
“And why not?” Will lifted his head, staring straight into her face. “They steal away our vacation just to make themselves look good. I don’t care if other schools are doing it. I don’t care about the political issue. I just want my vacation. If I don’t get it I’m going to burn out before graduation.”
“You are exaggerating,” our mother said.
“Am not.” He got up and shoved his breakfast bowl away from him. “I’m exhausted. I need a vacation.”
“Well, you aren’t vacationing here. You are going to school and that is final,” Mom said.
Neither Will, Travis nor I ever argued beyond the moment Mom said something was final. Only Dawn dared incur her wrath by bickering long after our mother’s decree was given, and for the first time we wished she were in the kitchen with us to do just that.
However, Dawn did not come downstairs of her own freewill that Monday, and Mom stomped up the stairs to forcefully drag her out of bed to make her go, just about the time me and my brothers were walking out the door to school.

I met my best friend, Jane Benetti, outside her house; and we walked to school both of us complaining as we tramped across the school lawn where most of our classmates lingered with the same putout expressions on their faces. None of us wanted to be there. But as I walked up the front steps I got the strangest chill.
I turned, looked to the road, and there I saw a Mercedes parked on the curb. Climbing out as a chauffer held the door open was a young man. He did not have the presence of a boy though he looked older than me by only a year. His expression was serious like a thirty-year-old set in a career with the military. His eyes certainly were grave. Though a sparkling blue, there was something hard and piercing about them. He clenched his hand as if it twinged from an old war wound, then he peered at our schoolyard with seeking eyes. Like my creepy History teacher, Mr. McDillan, this boy gave me the impression that he had killed a number of times before.
“Let’s go in,” I said to Jane.
Jane nodded, giving me a look with a huff that said she wondered why I was lingering in the first place.
I had History class first. I used to think it was a bad thing until I realized that it was best to get my least favorite subject out of the way before going through the rest of the day. I didn’t hate it for the subject. I disliked the teacher. He was a former vampire hunter once hired to kill me, but my father got a court order to stop that so everything was good.
Parting from Jane, I walked with a dreaded step to my class and dropped into my seat not even giving my teacher a glance. Others were already in the room, their imps shouting out suggestions like throwing paper just to drive our teacher crazy. Of course, no one in their right mind would act out in Mr. McDillan’s class.
I waited just staring at my desk in dejection until the first bell rang. When I looked up the entire class was full as if this week had not been a vacation week ever.
“Settle down,” Mr. McDillan said as he rose from his chair. His imps were telling him to walk out of the classroom and go home. It was clear he was not any happier at losing his vacation than we were. “Today we will have a freak quiz.”
Most of us sat up in our seats. A freak quiz was not unlike a pop quiz only it was about facts we never studied in class, usually trivia in the subjects that Mr. McDillan liked. No one suffered a grade drop from a freak quiz. On the contrary, he made them up to give us opportunities to earn extra credit points.
“Number your papers from one to five. Put your name in the upper left hand corner of the page and the class per—”
All of us heard the door creak and everyone lifted his head. I looked up also. There in that doorway, that boy from the Mercedes this morning stepped into the room with a man in a nice suit who could have been his father for all I knew. The man nodded to our teacher as Mr. McDillan looked puzzled at them both.
“Hold on,” our teacher said and walked over to the pair. They started whispering, but I could hear their imps shouting strange things. The man in the suit’s only shouted things like light up a cigarette and smoke, but the young man’s shouted things like “Find the monster and kill it now.”
My skin pricked up with a shiver again. Who was this guy?
He looked over the room with the same tense gaze as he had in the schoolyard. And as the whispers between our teacher and these men continued, I got the distinct impression they were talking about me.
But then Mr. McDillan did not look my way. He nodded to the man in the business suit and led out his hand to the young man into the classroom. No one could keep his eyes off of the guy’s fancy prep school uniform or his perfectly groomed hair. I could hear Troy Meecham already whisper to the boys next to him, their imps suggesting spit wads and fake gum to welcome this stranger properly with a prank.
“Pardon the interruption, class. Please welcome Michael Toms, a new acquaintance of mine through some old business. He will be attending our school during his spring break—”
“That sucks,” Dennis Clearey said aloud.
Mr. McDillan gave him a dirty look. “So treat him well. He is to be learning from me, mostly.”
“History all day long?” Becky Dominae turned her head as if to vomit.
I had to agree. All day under the eyes of Mr. McDillan was like being on the rack.
“Please take a seat and get a piece of paper from one of the students,” Mr. McDillan said to the new boy.
Michael Toms nodded to him then walked down the aisle next to mine, going straight to the empty seat right behind Peter Daniels. He paused, though, and glanced at me, suddenly clenching his palm. Then he looked up at Mr. McDillan who had a small smile on his lips. I didn’t like it. The exchange was suspicious. Michael continued to his seat after that, but I could have sworn he was watching me. His imps confirmed it.
“You found it. Now kill it,” one shouted.
He did nothing.
Mr. McDillan went back to the front of the room. “If your papers are numbered and your name and class period is written on the paper, then we will begin.”
He took up a stray note from his class folder and glanced at it before calling out the first question.
“Question one: What pagan goddess was worshipped in the season that Easter was named after?”
I blinked and then tilted my head. Pagan goddess? I hadn’t a clue. I thought Easter was Christian entirely.
“Question two: What are the real origins of Hot Cross Buns?”
Several of the students snickered. I shrugged and wrote that it was British.
“Questions three, four and five: Name three pagan symbols of fertility we use regularly in the current holiday of today.”
He set his paper down into the folder. I looked up and frowned at him. Everyone was snickering about symbols of fertility, several of the others nudging their neighbor. Biting my lip in thought, I lowered my eyes to my paper and wrote down one. Eggs. I knew Easter eggs were fertility symbols. Then I added rice. But that did not seem to relate to the holiday. That was for weddings.
“Pencils down. Pass the papers up.” Mr. McDillan stalked over to the front of the rows to collect the quizzes.
As soon as he had them all in hand, he set them on his desk and took up his quiz sheet again. Now was when we vocally answered each question.
“Can anyone tell me the pagan goddess’s name?” he asked.
No one raised his hand.
“Do you know, Michael?” Mr. McDillan looked towards the new boy.
Michael rose from his seat. Raising his chin, he said with voice that was calm, young, and not at all matching his firm exterior, “The goddess’s name is Eostre. She was a Celtic goddess of the moon and of spring.”
“Nerd,” someone muttered, mimicking his imp’s jeers.
I turned with a look, seeing Troy Meecham snickering with Peter. Tabby McMahone was also giggling, though she really had no right since she used to be the class geek.
“Correct,” said Mr. McDillan, oblivious to the rude comments of our peers in the back row. “Question two? The origin of Hot Cross Buns?”
“It’s a song,” someone said with a giggle.
Others laughed, me included.
Mr. McDillan frowned. “No. I am talking about the food. Does anyone know of their origins?”
Frowning, I slid back into my seat. They had to be pagan too. All the answers were about that I was sure. I just didn’t know a thing about Celtic lore even if it was part of the Scottish/Irish heritage in our town. I was a Northern Californian, and that was all I cared about in regards to culture.
“Hot cross buns,” Michael Toms said, “are breads made on Ostara in tribute to the goddess Eostre. The cross is a symbol of male and female energies unified.”
The boys around him broke into laughter. Some made catcalls.
“Inappropriate,” said Mr. McDillan, glaring down on them so that they hushed up in seconds. “And Mr. Toms is correct again. You ought to expand your horizons and learn the cultures that established our civilization.”
I snorted, leaning on my elbow. Already I could hear their imps shouting for the boys to tell Mr. McDillan that his sense of civilization was insane. He loved bloody history. I suppose that had to do with him being a retired vampire hunter.
“Is something funny, Miss McAllister?” He turned towards me with a glare.
Lifting my head off my hand and my elbow off my desk, realizing that I had laughed aloud, I straightened up and said, “Uh, well…Sort of.”
Some of my classmates drew in breaths waiting for what crazy thing I would say. I had outbursts in our class regularly, though mostly I was reacting to the imp noise that was sometimes too much to bear.
“Well then, share the joke. We all like a good laugh,” he said.
I shook my head, lifting my hands up. “Oh, no. It wasn’t that funny.”
“I said share it.”
He peered at me with a glare.
Groaning, I said, “It was nothing.”
“And I said share it, or can’t you hear?”
Closing my eyes, I said, “I was just thinking that your kind of culture isn’t what I would consider culture.”
“And what would you consider culture?” Mr. McDillan asked with a sneer.
I promptly replied, “A surf board and some good waves.”
My classmates burst into laughter. Mr. McDillan rolled his eyes. He walked back to the front of the room. “For your smart mouth, you’ll stay after school for detention.”
“Oh…” I slumped against my desk again, muttering into it. “Well, your idea of culture is beheadings and torture chambers.”
The girls next to me snickered, however Mr. McDillan went back to reading his list.
“Questions three through five?”
People called out things like Easter rabbits and eggs and chickens and ducks and fruit. I just stared at my desk, glad I got at least one answer right.
The rest of the class hour he had us read the chapter about the Korean War. Though my eyes were on the book the entire time, I could still feel those eyes on my back, hearing the same voices of those imps telling that boy to jump out and cut my head off. An associate of Mr. McDillans? Yeah. I believed it. The boy’s imps were just like his, always suggesting ways to kill me.
Happily the class bell rang, and I would be out of there and off to English. There I would find peace. After all, the kid nut would be staying with Mr. McDillan, obviously to learn bloody history and plot the demise of a certain demon. My only relief was that they could not do it at school.
All of us hopped from our seats. I was practically the first one out the door.

“Eve, you look jumpy. What happened?” Jane stared across her lunch at me as I tried to eat the hoagie I had bought from the cafeteria.
I shuddered again and said to her with a shake of my head, “That weird kid I saw outside school this morning, the one with the Mercedes and driver, he came to Mr. McDillan’s class.”
“What kid, what Mercedes and what driver? I didn’t see that this morning.” Jane tilted her head and closed one eye. “This isn’t like those imps that—”
“No. All of the others in my class saw him. Somebody even called him a nerd.” I took a bite and chewed, dropping my elbow on the table with a frown.
“Was he a nerd?” Jane asked.
I shook my head. “No. That’s the thing. He’s creepy like Mr. McDillan. In fact, Mr. McDillan introduced him as a new associate.”
“New associate.” Jane looked sincerely shocked. “Of Mr. McDillan’s? Yeah, he would be creepy.”
That was when Michael strolled into the cafeteria. His hands were in his pockets like one of those cool kids that didn’t have a care in the world, and he was looking around as if searching for someone, though not all that interested in what he was seeing. His eyes turned my way. I ducked pulling on Jane’s sleeve.
Pointing. “That’s him! The guy.”
Jane turned, took a look and then lifted her eyebrows. “Private school kid? Ok. Yeah, I remember now. I saw him. I didn’t think anything of it though. He didn’t look like he was coming to our school. He was waiting on a man in the hall when I went to class.”
I frowned.
“Hey, Eve, can I eat with you?” Dawn set down her tray of food and dropped into the seat next to me. Though we were sisters we never spent time together at school if she could help it. Dawn had this perfect angel look about her with her blond curls, curvy figure and flushed rosy cheeks; and I was the exact opposite: straight up and down from hair to body shape, my only curves in my chest though with no rear to balance it out, and no skin color at all; but I was the good little girl and she was the rebel. However, Dawn slumped on the table and started to eat as if she didn’t care she was seen with me that day.
“So, what’s up?” I asked, tilting my head to look into her down-turned face.
Dawn lifted her head with a sigh. “Brigid and Breanna are being jerks today. I’m not talking to them.”
Those were Dawn’s double-crossing back stabbing Goth friends. Around Halloween I caught them writing nasty things about my sister on the mirror and, of course, gave them the fright of their lives for it. Since that time they had been avoiding me. Of course they always avoided me.
“Ok,” I said and I turned back towards Jane. When I did, I saw Michael Toms standing right next to her giving me a nod as soon as my eyes met his. Of course he couldn’t see that they were orange since I wore my sunglasses as usual.
“Hello. Can I sit here?” he said.
Jane just stared widely, then looked at me as if asking what she ought to say. Myself, I just blinked at him and pulled back. He extended a gloved hand.
“I’m Michael Edmund Toms. And you are?”
I barely brought my hand to his. “Eve McAllister. And this is my sister Dawn, and that’s my best friend, Jane Bennetti.”
He took my hand and gave it a firm shake. However as we did both of us winced. Under his palm was a heat I never felt before, like grabbing hold of the sun itself. Both of us pulled our hands back and rubbed our palms.
Dawn blinked. “That was weird.”
“Eve’s always weird,” someone nearby said.
I cast that person a glare before looking at Michael again. He sat down, though he didn’t look like he had a lunch at all.
“So, where are you from?” Jane asked, trying to be polite though also asking out of curiosity.
“Why did you come school during Spring Break?” Dawn asked him with a look of incredulity.
Michael gave a frank smile that looked older than his age. He chuckled as he said, “Actually I was wondering the same thing about this school. Why is it still in session? I didn’t intend to come to school at all.”
“Then don’t,” I said, sounding annoyed.
He turned his gaze directly on me, and I felt the full weight of it. “But I had to meet with someone.”
“Mr. McDillan, the old vampire hunter?” I asked, refusing to be cowed.
Nodding only slightly, he replied. “Yes. Though how did you know that he was once a vampire hunter?”
Dawn broke out into a laugh. “Everyone knows! That man came here to deal with the vampires in the mountains, though I don’t think there are many in them today.”
Michael directed a surprised look at Dawn. “You believe in vampires?”
Both Jane and Dawn nodded.
“We’ve met them,” Jane said.
“One tried to bite me,” Dawn added.
Michael looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you know the reason for that?”
Both my sister and my friend pretended that he was not looking at me. I could hear their imps already encouraging them to tell him I was demon, but both of them remained silent except to say, “That’s what vampires do.”
I sighed and opened my bag of chips.
Michael gave me a regarding look and then smirked. “Very interesting.”
Munching on my chips, I tried to ignore him. It was easy, actually. His imps shouted the same stuff as earlier, and like in History class I got used to ignoring their voices. Besides, the echoing calls of the imps in the lunchroom to my classmates to ditch class together started to chime in unison. It was like a chant by now. And everyone around me brooded over it, seriously considering it.
“Dawn.” I turned to look at her. “Have you heard anything about a group ditch effort yet?”
She blinked and looked up at me. Then she lowered her head. “Only a few people know about it. How do you?”
I gave her a look. “I hear things people don’t want me to hear. Are they listening to it, is my question.”
“You’re not going to tell on us, are you?” Dawn hissed in a low voice.
Michael listened in, looking interested. He plucked a chip off my tray and started to eat as if he didn’t know I saw him do it. I pulled the bag from his reach.
“Of course not. I just don’t want to be left out,” I said.
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re serious.”
I nodded.
“But you never ditch school. Mom would get mad,” she said.
Tilting my head, I shrugged. “They stole our holiday. I’m angry.”
Jane nodded to me. “So am I.”
“Are you serious?” Suddenly Jill Saunders slipped next to me, moving Michael Toms out of her way with her book bag. He leaned back with an expression of true disgust as he was being shoved aside like some insignificant nobody.
Looking the girl who caused me trouble as a child in the eye, I nodded. “Dead serious.”
“Goody-goody Eve wants to ditch too?” Becky Dominae peered over Jill’s shoulder.
“Goody-goody Eve?” Michael echoed, staring at me as if he didn’t believe I existed now. His imps were still shouting to stab me, but some of them faltered and started suggesting he steal my hoagie.
I clenched the remains of my hoagie in my hands and finished eating it up, his expression once again looking surprised, this time because I knew what had crossed his mind.
“I don’t believe it,” Becky said, watching my face.
Jane stood up. “We’re all sick of losing our vacation over district politics. It isn’t wrong to protest an unfair policy change.”
“So of course Eve would go along with it,” Jill said with a dry snort.
“What’s going on? Are you picking on my sister?” Travis walked over, giving all the girls dirty looks.
Both Jill and Becky stood straight, glaring at him.
“We’re not!” Jill said with bite. “We’re talking about the protest.”
Travis lifted his eyebrows and looked at me. “You’re planning on joining that?”
I groaned. “Are you going to tell Mom?”
He shook his head, now looking impressed. “No. But she’ll find out. Honestly, Eve. When did you become so rebellious?”
Michael stood up, nodding to Travis and extending his hand. “Sorry, I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Travis made a face, and thumbed towards Michael with a look to Jane. “Who is this geek?”
“Michael Toms,” I said. Then I rose from my seat, taking my potato chips with me. “He’s an acquaintance of Mr. McDillan’s.”
“Mr. McDillan?” Travis stepped back and eyed Michael more.
Michael met his eyes and nodded. There was a lot of assessment in his looks. I could tell Michael was measuring Travis up in just those few seconds. He then looked back to me, glancing once at Dawn. “I take it, you’re adopted.”
Dawn popped out of her seat as if ready to beat Michael’s head in. “What did you say?”
Jill snickered. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“Eve the freak,” Becky chimed in.
I clenched my teeth and my fists. “Shut up!”
Becky pulled away with a cackle. Both she and Jill went to the table across the way, already spreading the news that Eve McAllister would join in their protest. Already others gasped in shock, but from their imps I could tell that they were now more than ever eager to delve into with the mischief ditching school in mass would cause.
“What exactly are you?” Michael asked me, turning once again to face me.
I felt that shiver again. There was something cold in his gaze, something that filled me with a fear that I normally never felt—including the time when Mr. McDillan shot wooden stakes at me, or when Dawn and I were in that plane that was speeding down to earth with seconds left for us to live. Of course then I knew how to get out of those situations. This was something entirely different.
Jane stepped between us. “That’s it. You stay away from Eve.”
Michael moved back looking truly shocked as he gazed at Jane’s severe glare. He then glanced up to Travis and then Dawn. Slowly he nodded.
“I see. Well then. I will keep my distance.” He then looked to me. “But you aren’t supposed to be among people, are you?”
My heart stopped for a second as if he had struck it. However, it started again, sending shivers down all my limbs. Even my tiny itching wings trembled under my skin. A friend of Mr. McDillan's? I definitely wanted to avoid him.
But he left as ordered, and both my brother and sister and my best friend comforted me at once, patting my shoulders and reassuring me that they would keep the creep away from me. Jane and I walked together to PE after lunch, and I did not catch sight of the boy until we left for home where he was picked up by the Mercedes and driver on the front curb.

As soon as I got home and changed out of my school clothes, I hurried downstairs to the living room where we kept the family computer. Logging on to the Internet I put in a search for a Michael Edmund Toms. What came up was intriguing.
He had no blogs. He kept no live journals, however the online encyclopedia actually had a small passage dedicated just to him.

Michael Edmund Toms, Son of the CEO and owner of Tristain Industries headquartered in San Diego, California, a multi-billion dollar industry with daughter companies in China, India, Pakistan, Russia, Latvia, and Saudi Arabia. His mother drowned in Pacific Ocean a few years after his birth. In his fifteenth year he was kidnapped by a cult in Massachusetts, missing for over a year before he was returned to his father in California. Presumably he had been viciously abused and severely affected by it with a dramatic personality change. After his return he has received awards in fencing, archery, and in horseback riding, excelling with an obsession in occult activities. Overachiever. The heir to Trisatin Industries attends an undisclosed private school. Links:

And it gave several. One of them I clicked on was a newspaper article for a small town newspaper entitled “New Kid Saves Missing Middleton Sons From Evil Wolf’s Wood Cult”
I read through it stopping every so often to stare at the words. Ten children survived this cult’s kidnapping plot just that last September. Michael was one of the survivors. But then my eyes fell on the words: “Of the other Middleton boys kidnapped in the 21st century only the seven returned alive.”
Seven.
That number gave me chills. Mr. McDillan had said I, the demon vimp, was conjured specifically to kill a bunch of people called the Holy Seven. Since that time, whenever I saw that number my body just clenched. I felt sick.
Finishing off the article, I went back to the original site. Then I clicked on the other site. This one was a website for a union, but reading the title of the union I froze.
“Supernatural Regulators Association?” Will read aloud, his head peering over my shoulder.
I jumped. He backed away, rubbing his face.
“Oh, my nose.”
I could already smell the blood. Turning I frowned at him, clenching my own chest. “Sorry, but what’d you do that for?”
“I was curious.” He pinched his nose, feeling into his pants pocket for a tissue. He had one and quickly blotted the blood that started to dribble out. “What are you doing anyway? Signing up?”
Shaking my head and turning around I scrolled down the page, reading the rest of it with my eyes. The blood smell was subsiding. I swallowed the saliva that had puddle in my mouth next to my long canines, trying to keep focus on the page rather than the urge for a taste. “No. I was checking out the background of this weird guy who came to school today.”
“You checking out that Mike guy?” Travis walked into the room.
I nodded.
He walked over to peer at the site also. Will stepped back to me and looked over my other shoulder again.
“What’s this site then?” Travis asked.
I pointed to a small article on the page. It was only a paragraph long but it was a statement of recognition for being newbie. It said:

Welcome to the newest registered fellow, Michael Edmund Toms. This young lad has already gained the reputation for being a skilled monster hunter with connections to the H.S. though he is currently running solo. Best of luck to you.

“Hey! There’s one for Mr. McDillan!” Travis pointed
I looked up at that small spot. There was a link attached to it and the name was McDillan. However it was Gregor McDillan.
“Mr. McDillan’s name is Brian,” I said.
“Is not,” Travis said. “Click on it.”
“Is to.” I did click on it however. Most of the information was blocked to guests and the only thing that was shown was an advertisement saying the man was for hire. “This is not Mr. McDillan. He is retired.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Travis said. However he walked away towards the kitchen.
Will drew in a sigh slowly and reached out to take us back to the main page. He pointed back to the section on Michael Toms. “You said he was at our school?”
I nodded, turning to look him in the eye. “Yep. Today Dawn, Travis and Jane met him also. He went to sit right next to Jane at lunch.”
Frowning, Will straightened up. “I see. What’s he here for?”
“To see Mr. McDillan,” I said. But then I held my chin in thought. “Though I swear they were talking about me in class. I get chills just remembering it.”
My oldest brother nodded. “Ok. I’ll go tell Dad.”
He went towards the kitchen also. I turned to watch him go, feeling more worried than ever, but Will was right. Dad ought to know what going down at the school. Maybe I could ditch without guilt now that I had a legitimate excuse. A demon hunter on my tail was bad thing.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.02.2010

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