PARENT TEACHER NIGHT
Another teacher would have chosen not to see it. Maybe she
would have too, if she'd been there a bit longer, known Billy
a little better. But Ms. Wright was new to the school and not
in the habit of letting things go, no matter what the
Principal or the File Notes said.
So she stared at Billy, let her eyes slide meaningfully from
his face to the book and back. The rest of the class fell
silent, heads ping-ponging between Billy and Ms. Wright,
breaths held, eyes wide. Billy took it all in -- Ms. Wright
_knew_ that he did -- but he just kept on reading.
Joel Nicholls, one of the braver, slower boys of the class,
risked a warning whisper. Billy feigned deafness and Ms.
Wright, with a practiced glare, sent Joel and the rest of the
class back to their work. Then she leaned back and considered
the problem of Billy.
Everything about him screamed spoilt. Usually late, often
absent (always with an apologetic note from his mother), he
managed at ten years of age to lounge in his chair with the
affected carelessness of sixteen. His uniform, though neat
and technically correct, somehow conjured images of rock stars
and back stage parties. In some ways he reminded her of Shane
Gerun back at Mt. Druitt High. But Billy, despite his grades,
was far more intelligent than poor Shane had ever dreamt of
being.
After 32 years of teaching, Ms. Wright prided herself on being
able to sum up new students in a couple of days. She slotted
them into categories named after old students -- clever and
bored Anthony Tans, slow and angry Mitchell Blakes, confident,
over achieving Sally Taleas. But she'd never had a Billy Cale
before.
She resisted the urge to confront him immediately. Several of
the incidents outlined in his File Notes had taken place when
a teacher had tried to discipline him in front of the class.
Ms. Wright had learned long ago that a certain type of boy
ought never be backed into a corner - at least not in front
of an audience.
Five minutes before the end of class she gathered her
materials into a neat pile and wrote the homework on the
board. Then, taking care to speak quietly, she said, "Billy,
you can choose to bring that book to me now and attend
afternoon detention for the rest of the week. Or you can
choose to have me ring your mother for an appointment."
He kept reading right up to the bell. Then he carefully
closed his book, allowing Ms. Wright her first glimpse of the
cover. The title, _The Lesser Key of Solomon_, was vaguely
familiar. Ms. Wright made a note of it for the Councillor,
then watched as Billy calmly put the book in his bag, threw
her a charming smile and sauntered from the room.
#
Mrs. Cale was beautiful in a faded, weary kind of a way. Her
blonde hair looked natural and her pale blue eyes held none of
Billy's arrogance. Other than the doting way she walked
behind him, there was nothing in their appearance to suggest
they were related.
She started apologizing before she sat down -- a nervous,
sincere stumbling of words which made little sense but
conveyed the impression that Mrs. Cale knew Billy was a brat
and suspected it was her fault.
Ms. Wright took pity on the woman and was glad that she'd
bought the thermos and cups. She sent Billy to the back of
the room and poured the coffee, making soothing chit-chat for
a while. Then she gently outlined Billy's discipline problems
and suggested a combined home/school approach for each.
Mrs. Cale nodded unconvincingly at each suggestion. "I do
discipline Billy," she whispered at one stage. "But--"
"Perhaps we need to try something new," Mrs Cale said. "I've
read through Billy's File Notes and frankly, Mrs. Cale,
they're alarming. His last school reports cases of bullying,
vandalism, truancy ... a constant flouting of rules. I
believe Billy was lucky to escape Juvenile Detention Center
after the assault on Mr. Green."
Billy's mother, eyes lowered, nodded silently. Ms. Wright
felt for her, but didn't soften her voice. The woman needed
to face up to the situation.
"I'm worried," she continued. "_Very_ worried about what will
happen to Billy if we don't guide him away from his current
path. Now, I know that reading in class may not seem --"
She broke off abruptly as the smell of incense caught her
attention. "Billy--"
The boy had drawn with chalk all over the floor and had lit
candles and incense. At his feet lay the book of the morning
and several others. His mouth worked silently as he read from
one of them.
"Billy," his mother shrieked, "Stop that now. _Stop it_." She
leapt from her chair, eyes wild with fear or anger or perhaps
both. Ms. Wright, having just remembered where she had heard
of _The Lesser Key of Solomon_ before, was too outraged to
move.
She was not a superstitious woman but as the lights gutted and
the air went chill, she felt a shiver travel down her spine.
Then the candles winked back to life, the lights turned on and
she screamed. The room seem unchanged but something was
there. Something evil and sinister and
"Billy!" Mrs Cale screamed. "What are you doing?"
Billy smiled and shrugged. "Stay there, Mom," he said. "Or
I'll call him out of the circle. You know who I mean, right?
So just stay there."
Mrs. Cale froze. "Who?" she whispered.
"Oh come on, Mom. You know who I mean - my dad. The one you
told me was dead." He turned conspiratorially to Ms. Wright.
"She did, you know. Told me he was dead and that she'd burned
all the photos 'cause it hurt too much. And I believed her.
Until I read her diary."
Mrs. Cale was sobbing now, sunk to the floor with her head in
her knees. Billy contemplated her for a minute, then
shrugged. "Turns out my father was the King of all Demons.
Explains a bit, don't you think?"
Ms. Wright tried to speak but the reek of the room -- not
incense now, but something rotting and putrid and bad -- stuck
in her throat. "A figure of speech," she finally managed to
say. "Clean up the mess, Billy."
The boy laughed.
"Billy," Mrs Cale whispered. "You'd just set fire to the
backyard. I was angry. I didn't mean it. It was just ...a
figure of speech."
Billy nodded thoughtfully. "I thought so," he said. "But
just in case, I did a bit of research." He glanced over at
Ms. Wright. "I'm awfully clever," he said. "Has anyone told
you my I.Q.?"
He turned back to his mother. "Anyway, I did some research.
Turns out he's not the King of all Demons after all. A fairly
minor Demon, in fact -- if I've got the right one, that is. I
didn't" he said, eyes narrowing, "have much to go on."
"Billy --"
"Stay there." He sat down in a chair and crossed his arms.
"Let's see shall we? How about it, _Dad_? Time to show
yourself. That's a command, by the way."
The room grew colder, the air so foul that Ms. Wright felt her
stomach heave. In the middle of the circle, a chair began to
shake. Then it stopped and something shimmered into place
upon it. _Dear God,_ thought Ms. Wright, _it sits just like
Billy._
The boy and Demon stared at each for a moment, identically
green eyes glowing with equal intensity. Then Billy smiled
and stood, walking slowly round the chalk circle to examine
his father.
"Well," he said when he reached his chair again, "I guess that
answers that. We have the same hair and eyes and build and
all. Nice to have met you, Dad. You can go now."
The Demon didn't move.
"Oh, _really_," Billy said. "Do I have to say the words
exactly? Demon, I bid thee return with all haste--"
_"Billy."_ It's voice was deep, mellifluous. The kind of
voice that made men listen and women go weak. "Billy, why the
rush? Shouldn't we get to know one another?"
"What's to know? My father's a Demon. You'll be the first to
know if I ever want to sell my soul or something. I might
even look you up for another chat when I'm older. But these
books I've read say the longer you're in that circle, the less
control I have, so --"
"Those books are written for mortals. You're half-Demon --
and powerful, Billy. I can sense it. Can't you feel all that
power trapped inside you? I can show you how to release it."
"Send it back, Billy. Say the words." Mrs. Cale was standing
near her son now, pale and trembling. "That's not your
father."
Billy stared at her for a moment, then shrugged and nodded.
"Demon, I bid thee return with all haste to whence thou came,
never to return lest I command it."
Nothing happened. Billy grabbed a book from the floor,
flicking wildly through the pages. The Demon laughed and
stood. At the edge of the chalk circle, it waved one hand
over the line and assumed an expression of surprise. "Fancy
that," it said. "Doesn't work at all."
It laughed again and the voice was no longer pleasant. "Think
I'd like a soul _now_," it said as it slowly doubled in size.
It was flaming now, the eyes no longer green but the red of
blood and hunger and - -
_Somebody will hear,_ Ms. Wright thought. _Mr. Sturt will hear
and he'll come._ Then she pictured old Jim Sturt and began to
laugh hysterically. Billy was screaming now, his voice coming
from above. He was stretched, limbs rigid and face contorted,
spinning slowly through the air. Blood dripped from his ears
and nose, a thick drop falling onto Mrs. Wright as he coasted
over her.
The Demon walked towards them. Ms. Wright tried to run but
her legs gave way and she fell to the floor onto something
wet.
"Our Father," she began, crossing herself and edging towards
the door.
"Stop that," the Demon said. "If you must pray, pray to me."
She felt her body snap upright to its knees. She tried to
keep praying but the words slipped from her mind and she knew
that she was going to die, horribly and slowly, in a pool of
her own urine. Pain began to spread through her, knife stabs
of fire, and she heard her own screams mingling with Billy's.
Her mouth began to form words she didn't want but couldn't
fight, shrieks of praise to the Demon before her. She tried
to clamp her mouth shut but it filled with vileness. She had
to open it and when she did, grey vomit poured onto the floor
before her. Her mouth began to praise the Demon again.
Then it all stopped. The pain disappeared and Billy fell to
the floor with a thud, still but breathing. The Demon turned
back towards Mrs. Cale and howled.
She had been chanting, Ms. Wright realized, chanting something
incomprehensible the whole time. And now, as the Demon
howled, she stopped, chalk in hand, and smiled. Beside her
the air shimmered and darkened into a vaguely human shaped
shadow. Billy's Demon stopped howling and fell cowering to
the floor.
Mrs. Cale pointed at it and the shadow edged forward slowly,
menacingly. It moved in a straight line, absorbing anything
in its path. A black hole, Mrs. Cale thought, then vomited
again. When she raised her head, Billy's Demon was gone,
though its howl of frustration still echoed through the room.
Billy sat up and screamed. The blackness kept advancing. Ms.
Wright wondered if they might make it to the door. She
grabbed Billy's hand, wondering at how small it was. Together
they slid back across the floor, away from the shadow. It
followed them.
Then Mrs. Cale was beside them, telling the thing to stop. It
hesitated, the edges of it quivering forward toward them
before it slowly withdrew to the back of the room, back into
the chalk outline Mrs. Cale had drawn. She followed it,
stopping to pick up Billy's books. She stared at them for a
long moment before tossing them angrily into the circle. A
black claw reached out from the center of the darkness and
caught them. Ms. Wright thought she heard it laugh.
Mrs. Cale sat down on a chair. "I'm tired of this," she said.
"I've tried to be patient, tried to be understanding. I
remind myself what I was like at his age. But I'm just so
_tired_. Tired of his mess and his mouth and the looks at the
shopping center and the teachers and their advice...". She
spun around to look at Billy. "You wanted to meet your Dad?
Come on, then. Maybe _he_ can talk some sense into you."
Billy whimpered and hid his head in Ms. Wright's shoulder.
"Mrs. Cale," Ms. Wright began. But Billy's mother cut her off
with a furious glare.
"Don't you make excuses for him," she said. "Don't you dare.
Do you know what I went through to get him? Do you know the
things I did just so I could conceive?" She stopped and took
a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's a bit
late for parent teacher night. But Billy's dad isn't around
much. I'd appreciate it if you could outline your discipline
ideas to him while he's here."
"Mom!" Billy screamed.
Mrs. Cale turned her tired blue eyes on him. "It's for your
own good, Billy," she said. Then she stood up and walked out
of the room. Ms. Wright didn't join Billy in running after
her. She knew, somehow, that the door would be locked.
Inside the circle, the blackness laughed.
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