Veiled (Ada Palomino 1)

“So we’re just supposed to just sit around and wait?”

“No. You go live your life. Go to school. Design. Study. Take selfies. I’ll be the giant weirdo lurking in the background and occasionally taking your picture.”

And you’re my giant weirdo, I think to myself.

“And then one day,” he goes on. “I’ll tap you on the shoulder and tell you it’s time. Throw you right into a pit of demons with nothing but a bible and the sword of destiny and you’ll have to fight them all until you’re the only one standing. If you live, then you’ve passed. If you die and go to hell, then you’ve failed.”

The coffee is spilling out of my cup I’m shaking so hard.

“Oh my god,” I squeak softly. “Oh my god.”

Then he grins at me. It lights up his whole face, turning him into a rugged handsome man into something boyish.

And dickish.

“What the fuck?” I cry out. “Are you joking?”

Now he’s sitting back in his seat and laughing. A full-on belly laugh that’s both beautiful and aggravating.

“You asshole!” I seethe at him. “You are such a fucking jerk. I’m going to get you back for this so bad, I swear to God.”

Jay tries to say something but his laughter won’t subside. There are even faint tears at the corner of his eyes. “Your face,” he eventually says between laughs. “Oh, you should have seen your face.”

“Is joking and laughing at my expense now a consequence of hanging around me too much?” I snipe. “Because I think I liked it better when you were a humorless robot.”

He wipes underneath his eyes and lets out an amused sigh, still grinning.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” I tell him, sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to the washroom. Don’t try anything funny.”

“You think I’m hot?” he asks as I walk away but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Once in the bathroom, just as tacky as the rest of the place with plastic clamshells adorned around the mirror, I take a good look at myself. I’m scowly, that’s for sure, but there’s a glow to my cheeks that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure if that’s the glow of being embarrassed or the glow of something more pleasant than that.

I turn around, making sure the three bathroom stalls are empty before turning back to the mirror and saying to my reflection, “Suck it up, princess.”

Then I take the middle stall and do my business, grateful for the privacy.

I’m just about to get up and flush when suddenly the toilet in the stall next to me flushes.

What the fuck?

I glance back at the flush handle on my toilet. Manual. But maybe the stall next door has an automatic flush that malfunctioned because I know there wasn’t anyone in that stall—it was wide open—and I know no one else came in.

Suddenly the terrible sensation of ants crawling inside my skin swarms through me.

No. Not a good sign.

I hold my breath and listen, needing assurance that I’m all alone, that it’s me being paranoid.

There’s no one there, Ada, I tell myself.

But there is.

I can hear something…

Breathing.

Very faint. But raspy, gurgling, breathing.

The blood-beat in my ears gets louder. I need to get out of here. I need to just get out the door and go. Just rip open that stall and run.

The crawling sensation intensifies and I absently itch my arm.

The whole bathroom seems to pause, as if holding its breath.

A sniffing sound.

Like something testing the air.

Oh god.

The image of the Splitter demon flashes through my mind.

Not again. Not on my fucking watch. I’m not going to have Jay rush into the bathroom to rescue me, even if I should be so lucky.

I take a deep breath, my body moving so slowly, like I’m in a dream but I know I’m not because now I can smell something too.

Something rotten, earthy, putrid. It stings my nostrils, like blood and malt vinegar, something that’s been unearthed when it should remain buried.

I open the stall door, limbs sluggish and step out into the bathroom. The mirror is in front of me, reflecting my own image, my pale face and the stalls, their doors half-open. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I take peek around at the neighboring stall anyway, tepidly pushing the door open.

I hold my breath as it gently swings against the siding, hitting it with a soft clunk.

Empty.

I exhale in relief, feeling the blood in my veins run warm again, and turn back to the face the mirror.

There’s someone right behind me.

A tall figure made of shadows.

No face.

Just red eyes.

And now, a slowly spreading smile showing off rows of shiny sharp teeth.

“Ada,” it whispers, a voice that makes me want to drop to my knees and beg for mercy.

Instead I run.

I burst out of the bathroom and run into the restaurant, coming to a walk when I realize people are looking at me strange.