Blood Beast

When hell hit the fan and the demons ran wild, Juni helped us break a hole through the barrier which Lord Loss had erected around the town. Without that gap, everyone would have perished. She was knocked out during the fighting and only recovered when the barrier had closed again, trapping hundreds of members of the cast and crew inside. Like the rest of us, she was helpless and had to stand by, watching and listening as the demons tortured and killed them.

She lost herself to fury and found that like me she could tap into the magical energy in the air. In a fit of rage she used this power to kill Chuda Sool, a demon collaborator who’d slipped through the gap. She regretted it afterwards. Snuck away in the night, leaving a note for Dervish saying she was confused and filled with sorrow. Said she might contact him one day if she sorted her head out, but not to expect to hear from her again.

Now here she is, filling in for Misery Mauch, looking a bit more strained than when I previously knew her, but otherwise no different.

“Why are you here?” I gasp once I’ve recovered from my initial shock. “How?”

“That’s what Billy asked,” she chuckles. We’re sitting in front of the desk, chairs close together. Juni’s holding my hands. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

“Of course. But it’s been so long. I never thought… And how did you wind up here, in our school? You’re not a school counsellor. Are you?”

“Not precisely.” She sighs and lets go of my hands. “It’s not a long story or particularly complicated. My head was in a mess after our experiences on the film set.” She pauses. Her eyes make flickering contact with mine and I get the message—don’t mention the demons or the slaughter. Please. “It took me some months to recover,” she continues, “but not as long as I feared. I realised early on that work would help, that I needed to be busy, that by helping others with their problems, I could help myself too.

“A friend offered me a job involving school work. I became an advisor to a network of counsellors. I supervised them, provided them with guidelines, helped out with their problems, organised meetings and conferences. The school network I initially covered was far from here. Then, a couple of months ago, I was given an opportunity to relocate. I knew your school would be part of my new network. To be honest, that’s largely what drew me to it.”

She smiles weakly. “I’ve been wanting to get in touch with Dervish since the day I ran off. I haven’t because of fear, guilt, shame. This was a way to take a step closer. I meant to ease myself into his life, observe from a distance for a while, work up the courage to face him again. Then William Mauch fell ill at the very time you and Billy most needed a compassionate and understanding ear. As his superior I was expected to step in for him. As your friend I felt compelled to. So…” She shrugs, embarrassed. “Tah-dah!”

“Dervish will be well pleased,” I grin. “He’s missed you.

Her face creases. “Please don’t tell him. Not yet. Not until I’m ready.”

“But—”

“Please,” she stops me, sharp this time. “I’ll see him soon, but not right now. Not until I’ve had time to settle, get my bearings and finish what I came here to do.”

“What do you mean?”

She leans forward, eyes warm but serious, and says, “I want to talk about your friend, Loch Gossel.” Puts a small, slim hand on one of my large, knobbly ones. “I want to discuss his death and how that hurt you.”

We talk for almost an hour about my friendship with Loch, what he was like, how he died, what I felt, how I’ve coped since then. I feel awkward at first, but Juni listens patiently, asks all the right questions, never pushy, always sensitive. She doesn’t pretend we’re not old friends, but at the same time she treats me like a patient, the way a professional should. No falseness, no charade, no smarm. I find myself opening up to her, telling her things I haven’t even told Dervish, about my pain, my nightmares, my loss.

We talk about Bill-E a lot. She spent most of the morning with him and she’s worried. “I can’t tell you all that we discussed,” she says. “I have to respect his privacy. But I got the feeling there was animosity between him and Loch. Would you say that was an accurate assumption?”

“They didn’t get on,” I admit.

“Did they ever fight?”

I smile. “No.”

“Why the smile?”

“Loch was almost as big as me. A wrestler. It wouldn’t have been much of a fight.”

“But they argued?” she presses.

“Loch…” I hesitate, not wanting to say anything bad about my dead friend.

“He teased?” Juni guesses.

“Yeah. He picked on Bill-E. Sometimes he was cruel. I didn’t like that, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was Bill-E’s problem, not mine.”

“Was Loch teasing Billy on the day of his death?” Juni asks. She’s not afraid to talk about death openly. Doesn’t hide behind softer terms like ‘incident’ or ‘mishap’. I like that.

I think back. “A little bit, yeah. But we were tired from di—I mean, from climbing in the quarry. We were all a bit snappish.”

“They didn’t fight?”

“No.”

“You didn’t argue with Loch or try to stop him from teasing Billy?”

“Not really.”

“You’re sure?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember everything that was said. The hour or two before he fell is kind of blank. I’m not blocking it out. I just… it’s like, when I look back, I’m looking through a mist. Do you know what I mean?”

Juni nods. “I know exactly what you mean. Part of my job will be to help you pierce that mist.”

“Does it matter that much?” I frown.

“Absolutely. It could be a mist of guilt. If you said something ugly to Loch which you now regret, you might have buried it. If you don’t deal with that, it could lie within you for years, then work its way back to the surface, hurting you, making you feel horrible about yourself.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Bill-E?” I ask. “Piercing the mist?”

“Yes. Although it will be harder with him than you. You’re not the still-waters-run-deep type.”

“Huh?”

“You’re honest and straight. What one sees is what one gets. Loch’s death hurt but I don’t think it struck you to the core like Billy. You’re made of tougher stuff, Grubbs Grady. Tougher than Billy and tougher than me. I doubt we’ll have any serious problems. You’re too plain to be complex.”

“You might be wrong,” I mutter, annoyed at being described that way. “Maybe I just do a good job of covering up my pain and confusion.”

“Perhaps,” Juni says. “But don’t worry, I make no rash assumptions. If you are suffering deep inside, I’ll find out and help. You have my word on that.”

We talk a while longer about Loch’s teasing and what I thought of it. Then a bit more about the day he died, how long I held him, my efforts to keep him alive, my feelings when I realised he was dead. I cry at that point. Juni makes no moves to comfort me, just sits, watching, waiting. When I recover, she hands me a tissue to wipe my cheeks dry, then moves on.

At the end of the session she stands and shakes my hand. When I try to pull away, she grips tight, pink eyes seeking mine and holding them. “Billy promised not to tell Dervish about me. If you can’t make that promise or feel strange about it, please say so. I want to be the one to tell him I’m here. I’d rather do it later, when I’m ready, but if you feel like I’m putting you in an awkward situation, I’ll do it now.”

“No,” I smile. “I’ll keep it quiet. He doesn’t take much of an interest in school life. If he asks, I’ll tell him some nutty dame replaced Misery Mauch. I bet he won’t even ask for your name.”

“Thank you.” She releases me. “We’ll talk again tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

“I’d like that.”

She smiles broadly, then ushers me out, leaving me to wander back to class, head buzzing, lips lifting at the edges, feeling for the first time since Loch’s death that there might be a slight silver tinge to what previously seemed to be a bleak, black beast of a future.