"I'll be honest, this wasn't how I thought I'd be celebrating my 21st birthday," Ian commented dryly.
Anthony didn't respond or tear his gaze from the ground surrounding the portal, so Ian continued. "I kind of would've liked to spend the night in a bar somewhere. I probably even would've let you come along, if only so you could drive me home when I got shit-faced."
Anthony glanced at Ian with his eyebrows raised. "Yeah, sorry man. Maybe we can do that some other time, but I really want to take care of this as soon as possible, and I need your help to do it."
Ian held back a sigh. "I know. This is more important. But it would've been nice to do something normal for a change."
"At least we're kind of celebrating your birthday," Anthony said. "I mean, now that you've finally got your gun permit and everything, it seems like you should use it."
Ian disagreed. He didn't feel like shooting a damn thing tonight, not even some bloodthirsty demon. But Anthony wasn't really paying him any attention now, so he didn't bother with a response.
It was 3:38 AM on December 2nd, 2008. Until about an hour ago, Ian had been cozily wrapped up in bed, completely oblivious to the world—and his best friend's activities. Then he'd received a phone call from Anthony, who'd asked him to meet him at the demon portal as soon as possible. So Ian, like the good friend he was, dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, and drove halfway across town in the middle of the night.
"I think I've got something," the darker-haired man said.
"Okay. Lead the way."
Ian trailed behind Anthony, who was entirely focused on tracking this latest demon. His friend was sometimes all too dedicated to his cause. Ian often wondered if Anthony could even fathom a life without hunting demons. If you took away that portion of Anthony, what would be left? A guy who made goofy YouTube videos with his best friend? But there was so much more to him than that, thanks to the monsters.
"So remind me what this demon is, again?" Ian asked, breaking both their silence and Anthony's intense concentration.
"Oh, it was like this three-headed dog thing. Pretty fucking scary."
"Purple-eyed, or red?"
"Purple."
Ian swore. Purple-eyed demons, he and Anthony had realized, were always the strongest and hardest to kill. They were typically fast, unpredictable, and likely to cause trouble if they weren't immediately tracked down. Ian had held out hope that they wouldn't have to contend with one of the stronger demons tonight, but it had been a fool's notion; he'd known the demon had to be something tough if Anthony had failed to kill it on the first encounter.
He set a hand on the pistol at his hip, feeling reassured to finally have a lethal weapon that he knew how to use. Anthony had tried to teach him how to use a sword, but Ian didn't have a way with it like Anthony. He was, however, pretty damn good with a gun, especially after all the hours he'd logged at a local shooting range, practicing with every type of handgun imaginable. Then it had just been a matter of waiting until he turned 21 and could finally purchase a gun of his own. He supposed he should have been excited to finally have a chance to use it, but he just wasn't in the mood to put himself in mortal peril for the hundredth time tonight.
"Hey Anthony? Are you sure you don't want to just go home and come back tomorrow some time?"
Anthony glanced over at Ian. "What, are you scared already, Hecox?"
Ian pursed his lips. "No. But you're injured, dude, and this thing's going to be really hard to kill."
Anthony paused, frowning. "How did you—I never said I was injured."
Ian rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, man. I didn't just meet you yesterday." He'd known from the minute he heard Anthony's voice over the phone that he was in pain. Of course, Anthony hadn't mentioned whatever injury he'd obtained. Ian didn't know where that injury was yet, because he couldn't make out any blood on Anthony's all-black clothes, but that didn't mean it didn't exist.
"It's just a scratch, okay? I'm fine." There was nothing but hard, unyielding stubbornness in Anthony's brown eyes.
Ian sighed. "Yeah, whatever. I still don't think this is a good idea."
He shook his head. "We've gotta do this before it hurts any other people. If you'd seen it, you'd want to make sure it gets killed too."
"Okay, then. Let's go hunt this mofo down," Ian said, trying to sound at least somewhat enthusiastic.
They continued walking in silence for ten minutes before Ian spoke up again. "Uh, dude? Are you sure the demon came this way? We're getting awfully far from the portal."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Look." He pointed to a dark substance by his feet that glistened in the yellow streetlights. It could've been mistaken for motor oil, but Ian recognized it as demon blood.
"You wounded it?"
"This isn't my first day doing this," Anthony said with a slight smirk.
The two boys fell back into silence as Anthony tracked the demon. He came to a sudden halt before a chain link fence. At first, Ian couldn't figure out why his friend had stopped. Then he saw the hole that had been torn in the bottom of the fence.
"Shit. It went in there, didn't it? This is a school, right?"
Anthony nodded and crawled through the hole in the fence. Ignoring the gnawing fear and worry in his gut, Ian followed him. Anthony's eyes stayed glued to the ground, looking for blood droplets and footmarks, but Ian kept a wary eye on their surroundings, afraid that the demon might be lurking somewhere nearby. His gaze stopped on the building up ahead, and the black, gaping rectangle he could make out on the wall. It took him a moment, but Ian realized that he was looking at a doorway. The door had been knocked completely off its hinges and Ian could kind of see it lying on the ground just inside the building. He tapped Anthony's arm.
"Think the demon could've done that?" Ian asked, pointing at the broken-down door.
"Hell yes," Anthony said confidently, and hurried toward the entrance.
Ian swore as he followed, making sure his pistol was loaded and ready as he walked. Up ahead, Anthony slipped his sword from its sheath with a soft, ringing scrape. He led the way into the school, which was totally silent and dark as hell.
"I can't see a goddamn thing," Ian whispered.
Anthony replied by pulling a flashlight out of one of his pockets and flicking it on. The beam pooled onto the floor in front of them. Anthony angled the flashlight away from the ground, but not before Ian had seen a dark spot standing out on the white flooring.
"Look at the ground," he told Anthony. The older boy aimed the light back at the floor, and Ian realized the mark that had caught his eye was a paw print, stamped on the floor in blue-black blood. He swallowed as he realized the print was as big as his own spread hand.
"Well, that makes tracking easier," Anthony murmured as his light revealed that the paw print was one of many leading down the hall.
Ian didn't say anything, but gripped his gun a little tighter as they set off, both trying to move as quietly as possible. The bloody footprints hadn't dried, Ian noticed, or even congealed; the trail was probably only minutes old.
The hall ended with another knocked-down door. There was dim light in the room beyond, revealing it to be a gymnasium. The gleaming floor was covered in bloody paw prints stretching back and forth, around and around. The demon must have gotten stuck in this gym, Ian realized, and not been able to find a way out, despite all its pacing. He then realized a couple more things: the pacing made it impossible to see where the demon's trail led next, which meant that for all they knew, it could still be in this gym somewhere.
"Be on guard," Anthony warned in a whisper as he flicked off the flashlight. "I'm going to let it know we're here."
Ian saw Anthony pin his sword between his arm and side, freeing up his other hand. Now that his friend wasn't holding his weapon at the ready, Ian felt far tenser, and drew his pistol up at arm's length. He jumped at the loud clap of Anthony's hands, which echoed around the silent gymnasium.
The sound was answered by a long, low growl. Ian spun to his right and saw the demon, crouching beside the bleachers a mere ten yards away.
Anthony was right: it was fucking terrifying, and Ian had seen a lot of scary demons in the last five years.
The creature stood at about the height of Ian's waist and had a massive, stocky body covered in death-black fur and rippling with muscle. As Anthony had said, the demon had three snarling heads sprouting from its chest, each with glowing purple eyes. The heads were square and stocky and reminded Ian of mastiffs. Really evil, ready-to-kill mastiffs, that is.
He didn't get a better look at the creature before it charged forward, its teeth snapping in anticipation of a kill.
Anthony's instincts took over when the creature charged, and the world became a much simpler place. All he needed to think about was how to move to avoid the creature, where to aim his attacks on it, and whether Ian was safe or not.
As the demon barged forward, Anthony jumped to the side. He'd put up a hand to push Ian out of the way as well, but, of course, his friend hadn't even been there; he was already out of the way of the creature. Anthony changed his grip on his sword slightly, shifting the hilt into a more comfortable place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ian stepping back and chambering a bullet in his pistol.
The demon turned and made another lunge for Anthony. The demon hunter dodged out of the way again, this time swinging his sword at it as it passed. His attempted strike had no effect on the demon and only served to send zing of pain up his left arm, where the demon had bitten him the last time he fought it. He ground his teeth against the pain and did his best to ignore it.
The demon skidded to a stop, its claws gouging the shiny wooden floor of the gym, and turned to face Anthony. He spun to meet the creature's next attack, ducking away from one of the head's snapping teeth as he sliced at its broad chest. He felt the tip of his sword make contact, but the creature didn't even seem to feel the cut. Instead, the closest head darted forward and tried to bite him- Anthony barely managed to step backward enough for its jaws to clamp shut on empty air rather than his thigh.
His hasty retreat left him off-balance for a terrifying second, but he managed to settle his weight. Falling over, he realized, would be the absolute worst thing he could do. If the demon dog pounced on him while he was down, those three heads would make quick work of tearing his chest open or ripping out his throat.
"Dammit, Anthony!" Ian called. "I can't make a shot if you're in there so close to it!"
One of the demon's heads turned to snarl at Ian as the other two stayed focused on Anthony.
"Yeah, you can!" Anthony shouted as he kicked the middle head hard under the chin. The head yelped, but the other two didn't pause their attack. The demon's left head managed to lock its teeth around Anthony's calf just after he planted his foot back on the floor. It clamped its jaws together, making pain blaze up Anthony's leg. He yelled in pain and rage as he swung his sword at the left head, hoping that he might be able to cleave it off and finally wound the demon. Before his sword even reached the dog's neck, though, the now-recovered middle head caught the blade between its teeth.
Anthony started to swear but cut off in a cry of pain as the left head's teeth shifted in his leg.
"Ian!" he gasped. "For the love of god, just shoot it!"
His friend must have hesitated because there was no response for an agonizing thirty seconds. His sword was still locked in the middle head's jaws and Anthony couldn't slide it free, so he resorted to punching the heads and trying to gouge their eyes out with his fingers. His efforts were rewarded by another bite from the right head, this time on his arm, mere inches from the bite he'd gotten when he first fought the creature. The demon pulled its right head away rather than staying locked on, and Anthony felt his flesh tear as the creature's teeth ripped through it. Meanwhile, the left head continued worrying his leg, sending dizzying jolts of pain to Anthony's brain each time its teeth sliced through yet more skin.
Then he heard Ian's voice shout, "Anthony, don't move!"
He pulled back and froze, praying that the hours Ian had spent at the shooting range would pay off.
Ian's pistol barked three times in quick succession, and Anthony felt the demon finally release his leg and back off with a howl. He didn't know where the bullets had hit- he couldn't make out any wounds on the demon's black hide, and it was hastily hobbling to the darker half of the gym.
Ian was suddenly beside him, placing a hand on Anthony's arm. "Dude, are you okay?"
Anthony shook his head, more of a dismissal of Ian's question than an answer to it. "That thing isn't dead yet, is it?" He couldn't really see the demon any more, or hear its movements.
"Don't think so. I'll go finish it off." Ian bent over and grabbed Anthony's sword, which was lying on the ground where the middle head had dropped it. As Ian went to find the demon, Anthony found himself feeling lightheaded and dizzy, and the gashes on his leg and arm were throbbing with a deep, intense pain.
He sat down on the gym floor despite his desire to go help Ian kill the demon. He braceleted his hands around his mauled calf, knowing he needed to stop the blood flow. He couldn't make himself apply any pressure, though- not when his leg practically felt like it was on fire.
He dimly heard a scuffle from the other side of the gym, but he was mostly preoccupied with his wounds and the fear that he was losing too much blood. How long did it take to bleed out? In all the years Anthony had spent hunting demons, he'd never had wounds that bled this much or hurt this bad. Was he dying?
Ian took a savage satisfaction in driving Anthony's sword through the demon's ribcage and watching it thrash in a puddle of black blood. He knew he was trying to compensate and ease his guilt over not being able to help while Anthony was attacked. He'd never felt more useless than he had as he stood there, trying to line up a shot while his best friend was mauled. It didn't matter to Ian that he'd managed to make three perfect shots—one hit the demon's side, one hit its front leg, and the last struck the head that had been attached to Anthony's leg—his first time ever using a gun against a demon. All that mattered was that Anthony had been injured and Ian hadn't been able to prevent it from happening.
As soon as the demon was well and truly dead, Ian ran back across the gym and crouched beside Anthony. He cursed as he took in the other demon hunter's status. His normally tan skin was pale and sweaty, his hands were clasped around his shredded shin and calf, and his brow was creased in pain.
"Jesus Christ, Anthony," Ian muttered. "You look awful."
Anthony squeezed his eyes shut. "Is the demon dead?"
Ian mentally rolled his eyes at his friend's concept of priorities. "Yes, it is."
"We've gotta get the body out of here so no one finds it."
"No, we've gotta get you to a hospital so you don't bleed to death." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and brought up the dial pad.
"Ian, you know we can't leave any evidence behind." Anthony looked up at him with a pleading expression. "I'm not going to bleed out right now, I promise. Just, please, go see if you can drag the body out of the school."
Ian glared at him. "And what, just leave you sitting here?"
"No. I'm going to get my car so we can put the demon in it." Anthony was able to push himself to his feet, but he winced as soon as he shifted the muscle in his right calf.
"You idiot," Ian hissed, grabbing Anthony's arm to support him as the dizziness made him sway. Ian pushed Anthony back to the ground, and thankfully the taller young man didn't try to resist.
"You're not going anywhere except the hospital, and if you think otherwise you're insane," Ian said. "If you're so determined that we need to take care of the body, then I'll go back and get your car while you stay here and not die."
Anthony looked ready to protest, so Ian held up a hand and said, "Don't argue with me, dude. I'm having a hard enough time convincing myself it'll be okay to leave your ass here while I go get the car."
Anthony couldn't seem to keep another wince from crossing his features. "Fine. But are you sure that demon's dead? Sometimes they're not as dead as they seem and I don't want to get stuck with one here."
"I'm sure," Ian assured him. Then he sighed. He really didn't want to leave Anthony by himself for the fifteen minutes it would take to walk back to the car. His leg and arm were still dripping with blood and Ian was afraid Anthony might have lost enough of it to enter shock. He wished there were a third person they could call in for help, someone who could go get the car for them or stay behind and take care of Anthony, but no one else knew about the demons- Ian hadn't even told Melanie yet.
"If you're gonna sit here waiting, then we have to do what we can to stop the bleeding," Ian said. "Have you been keeping pressure on your leg?"
To his surprise, Anthony shook his head, looking guilty and miserable. "I... It hurts so bad, I can hardly make myself touch it, let alone put pressure on it."
"Well, fuck, Anthony," Ian said, glowering at his friend and shrugging out of his hoodie. "And you're still sure you don't want me to call an ambulance?"
"Yes." There was no uncertainty in his voice, despite its lack of volume and strength. Then: "Why the hell are you undressing?"
Ian pulled his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and then zipped his hoodie back over his bare chest. "I'm making you a compress." He used Anthony's sword to cut the sleeves off his shirt and set them in Anthony's lap. He folded the remaining tube of fabric in half longways and then bent over to look at Anthony's calf. He had to pull the older boy's fingers away from the wound to even see it, but when he did he felt a stab of pity and nausea go through him.
The flesh visible under all the scarlet blood was torn deep and flecked with puncture marks from the demon's teeth. It almost looked like there was bone visible in some of the gashes across the front of Anthony's shin, but Ian didn't look closely enough to be certain.
He swallowed the bile and fear that rose in his throat and wrapped his folded shirt around Anthony's leg, pulling it tight. Anthony groaned at the pain, but Ian kept the pressure tight as he tied the ends of his makeshift compress together.
"Don't you dare loosen that while I'm gone," he warned. "I don't care how much it hurts."
He used the two sleeves of his shirt to bind the wounds on Anthony's arm. "There. Now don't move and you should be fine. I'll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you start to feel like shit."
Anthony smiled feebly. "I already feel like shit."
"Well, call me if you start to feel like bigger shit." On impulse, he handed Anthony his pistol and patted him on the back. As Ian started to get to his feet, Anthony grabbed his arm and handed him his flashlight.
"You'll need it more than I will," he mumbled.
"Thanks, man." Ian got to his feet and headed for the collapsed gym door.
"Hey Ian?"
He turned back. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for showing up tonight." Anthony offered him another weak smile, which Ian returned before setting off into the night.
Anthony lay on the hard gym floor and distracted himself from his pain by thinking about the insanity that was his life. All the late nights, secrets, weapons, and adrenaline rushes were such a part of his routine at this point that he rarely stopped to really think about how strange it all was.
The demon he'd just fought would be the stuff of nightmares for almost anyone else, but Anthony had seen scarier things before and thoughts of the three-headed dog were hardly going to keep him up at night.
He kept mulling over Ian's words from earlier that night about how nice it would be to do something normal. Anthony honestly couldn't remember the last time he and Ian had done anything together that wasn't related to Smosh or demons. He really should've thought to go to a bar with Ian for his birthday, but he'd been so busy lately that any such idea had never crossed his mind.
He was lucky, he thought, to have Ian as a friend and fellow demon hunter. Ian was always there when Anthony needed him and even if he sometimes seemed fed up with demon-hunting, he was always willing to help if Anthony asked him. He was strong, brave, and reliable and somehow the two of them made the perfect demon-hunting duo—Anthony could take down nearly any demon he came across, but Ian could list off every demon he and Anthony had ever fought and how they'd killed it. Anthony generally fell into the confident, leaderly role, but he still often relied on Ian's level head and common sense. They balanced each other out, like two celestial bodies locked in orbit.
Anthony realized then that Ian had saved his life earlier. He probably would've only lasted another minute before the demon would have bowled him over and made a killing bite. Thank god Ian was there and had good aim with his pistol.
Of course, there was no guarantee that the demon hadn't given Anthony a killing bite, as he was reminded by the sudden burst of pain from his leg. He pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the immediate dizziness that attacked him, and pulled up his pants leg to check on his wound. Ian's shirt was soaked through with Anthony's blood, but there was no blood dripping down his leg now. It still hurt an incredible amount—he was tempted to disobey Ian's orders and loosen the compress—but it didn't seem as life-threatening as it had when his blood was spilling onto the floor.
Damn it, Ian had probably saved his life twice tonight: once when he killed the demon, and then again when he saw to Anthony's wounds before he left. Anthony wasn't used to having to be saved, not even by Ian. It made him feel surprisingly useless and wretchedly dependent. He was supposed to be better than that, especially after having the last five years to practice.
He started to sigh, and then frowned, considering. There was one thing he could do that would make him feel slightly less worthless, something that would make him feel like less of a helpless, wounded invalid who had to make Ian do all the work. Ian would kill him when he found out, of course, but it'd be worth it anyway.
Having made up his mind, Anthony gritted his teeth and pushed himself off the ground.
Ian parked Anthony's car in the parking lot on the other side of the gym, then took off at a jog toward the other side of the building and the knocked-down door they'd been using to enter. He was extremely, irrationally afraid of what state he might find Anthony in—in his head, he kept seeing images of his friend crumpled in a pool of his own blood, with Ian standing there, too late to save him.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks, frowning at an open door along the closest wall. That wasn't open before.
He was suddenly terrified. Had someone gone in the gym and found Anthony and the demon corpse? Had Anthony decided to leave the building for some reason? Was the demon not dead after all?
Ian sprinted toward the door, cursing his decision not to take Anthony's sword with him. He raced into the gym and skidded to a halt, looking around. He saw first the three-headed demon dog sprawled out on the floor nearby. For a second, he thought it was alive, but it didn't move and he could see a black trail smeared along the floor going from where the creature had died to its new location.
He turned his head and swore. Anthony was lying on the floor a few yards away from the dead demon. The only thing Ian really registered was the fact that his friend wasn't moving before he was on his knees beside him, grabbing Anthony's shoulder and shaking him.
Anthony's eyes opened and found Ian's. "Hey, man," he mumbled. "Glad you made it. I did you a"—he winced and flinched in pain, but then tried to hide it—"favor and got this door open."
"You fucking moron," Ian snapped. "I told you to stay put!"
"I wanted to help," Anthony said, and he was so pathetic-looking that Ian decided not to tell him off any further.
"Dear god, Anthony," Ian muttered.
The older boy's body was racked with shivers and his brown eyes were glazed with pain. His injuries weren't visible- they were still wrapped in the compresses, thankfully-but Ian didn't need to see them to know that Anthony's condition had worsened dramatically in the last twenty minutes.
And yet this idiot decided to drag the demon's corpse over here by himself. What the hell's wrong with him?
"Hang in there," Ian told him, setting a hand on his shoulder. He didn't wait for a response before moving over to the demon's carcass. He grabbed two of its legs and then started dragging it out the door. It was really fucking heavy, and Ian couldn't believe his stubborn best friend had been able to move it at all in his weakened state.
It took him about five minutes to load the dead dog into the back of Anthony's car, but it felt far longer than that. He fretted about Anthony the whole time, and it was a relief to finally run back into the school gym and get his friend.
"Think you can walk?" he asked as he helped Anthony into a sitting position. "The car's only about fifty feet away, but I can see if I can get it closer to the door."
Anthony shook his head. "I'll make it," he said faintly as he looped an arm around Ian's shoulders and struggled to his feet.
Using Ian as a crutch, Anthony was able to limp out to the car, though he hissed every time he moved his calf muscle too much. Ian helped him into the passenger seat and then went back to shut the gym door, wincing as he peered inside it one last time.
"So much for leaving no trace," he said to Anthony as he hopped back in the car and pulled out of the parking spot.
"I know. We should've at least tried to wipe away the blood."
Ian shook his head. "We didn't have time. You need medical help bad, dude. I'm headed to the ER right now."
"But what if someone calls the cops and they do some chemical test on the demon blood to find out what it is?"
"So? It's not like they'll be able to identify it."
"I still say we shouldn't leave evidence if we can help it."
Ian sighed. "Fine. If it makes you feel better, I can go back while you're getting sewn up and see if I can clean up the floor."
"No, you don't have to do that, Ian..."
"Well it's not like I'm just going to go back home and sleep, now am I?" Ian's tone was more weary than angry.
"Sorry. God, your night must have sucked; all you've done is stuff for me."
Ian glanced over and could make out Anthony's dark, emo-cut hair framing his pale face. "I don't mind helping you when you need it, Anthony. I might complain, but I'd much rather come help you stay safe than sit around at home until I get the call from the hospital."
He saw Anthony smile and set his head back against the headrest. "Hey Ian?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a good friend, dude." He paused, and Ian saw that he'd closed his eyes. "Remind me to take you to a bar next week, and then we can really celebrate your birthday"
Ian smiled at the road in front of him. "Deal."