Demonic Dora Read online

  DEDICATIONS

  This book is dedicated to Jonathan Eldred for his wicked wit and creative additions to every chapter.

  I'd like to thank my mother for never being like Lady Lascher, which I am eternally grateful for.

  Thanks to Kevin Weinberg, Eileen Gormley and Derek Landy for their wonderful advice and for listening to my constant, unending, random and bizarre questions about this book.

  But mostly, I'd like to thank all the wonderful fans and beta readers from Wattpad for joining me on this journey. I hope you laughed as often as I did.

  www.claire-chilton.co.uk

  Dora Carridine rested her Doc Martens on the wooden church pew in front of her and idly cleaned her nails with a combat knife. She watched the small film crew set up around the podium at the front of the church while her father, the Reverend Theodore Carridine, had his hair fluffed into angelic white fuzz by a stylist.

  She yawned.

  Another bible bashing show coming soon to a TV near you!

  She didn’t ask for much in life, but she’d greatly appreciate it if the studio would cancel her father’s embarrassing television show. She didn’t pray to deities. Surely if there were such things as Gods, they’d have listened when she begged them to burn her mother alive for making her wear a cardigan in the eighth grade.

  Dora had been a curious child, so when growing up in such a strict religious home, she’d tested out as many sins as she could. Lightning had never struck her down, she hadn't incurred the wrath of God and to be honest, if there was anyone up there watching, they didn’t give a crap what she did.

  “Now let us pray,” her father said into the microphone when he stood at the podium, his face solemn.

  Dora lowered her head and read the spell book in her lap. Images of demons and the blackest of magic filled the grimoire. She could barely read it.

  I so wish I’d taken Latin now.

  “Our father, who art …” Her father recited. The large congregation chanted with him.

  “… Who art embarrassing whenst he is on television,” Dora mumbled out of habit. Two devout parishioners spun around and glowered at her. “Hollowed be thy brain,” she added for their benefit and chuckled when they turned away from her in disgust.

  It was going to be a long show today, and she was already bored—beyond death. She glanced around the large church. People around her were praying with their eyes closed. Even her producer mother had her eyes shut and wasn’t watching the show.

  Time to get outta here.

  Dora shoved her spell book down the waistband of her red miniskirt and carefully lowered her feet off the pew. She slid the knife into the scabbard inside her boot before silently sinking down in her seat. She slipped onto the hard stone floor, rolling on all fours before she crawled through the narrow space between the pews. She sped up when she left the benches behind and was out in the open, scurrying towards the confessional boxes.

  She rested behind the dark mahogany box before peering back at the room. No one was watching her. They were all standing and preparing to sing a hymn. She stood up and walked into the alcove ahead, then climbed the stone staircase towards her room.

  She brushed the dust off the knees of her red and black striped tights on her way up.

  Lazy ass cleaners should be crucified for the mess they left the place in.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned left at the large organ pipes, heading up the narrow stone passage of a second staircase which led to her attic room.

  Dora’s room was pretty cool. It was inside the spire of the old church, offering her privacy from the rest of the world. She pushed open the ancient oak door. It made a loud, ominous creak—just how she liked it. The room was not decorated to her liking with baby pink walls and a matching carpet. The little princess room was her parents’ doing. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d spray painted blood-red pentagrams or black demon art on the walls of this room. Every time she came back from school, it was back to princess pink with decorative voile hanging over the bed and pink fluffy throw cushions on the furniture.

  Bile rose in her throat when she glanced down at the pink floral-print duvet. She swallowed and knelt on the floor at the end of her bed before pulling out the large white plastic sheet from beneath it. The sheet was actually the back of a Twister mat, but it worked just as well for a dark arts summoning circle. She had painted a black and red pentagram on it to put it to a darker use than it was intended for, meaning she had to ensure it was well hidden from her parents at all times.

  She shivered with excitement. Today was going to be her day. After years of trying and failing, she was finally going to cast a spell that would work. Despite years of failure, her inability to summon a demon hadn’t dimmed her enthusiasm. The Wicca group at the local magical supply store would be laughing at her on the other side of their white-light Earth-mother faces if she pulled this off.

  Dora was going to summon a demon, and not just a normal demon. No, she was going for a high-level demon that would be under her control.

  The first thing he’s going to do for me is make this room red.

  She placed six black candles around her makeshift summoning circle and lit them one by one. She put an ornate pottery bowl at the centre of the circle and threw a mixture of herbs into it. Next, she pulled the knife out of her boot and made a small cut on her thumb with it. She watched her blood slowly drip into the bowl until there were six drops. Then she pressed her thumb against her leg. Once the cut had stopped bleeding, she dropped the knife and dragged her schoolbag over to her. She reached inside it, feeling for the small box in the bottom of the bag.

  The secret ingredient was a Karabashi bloodstone. She carefully opened the small black box and stared at the red shiny stone in awe. It looked like a glass ball filled with blood. She’d searched high and low for one when she’d found the spell in her book. None of the usual haunts had one; not the antiques shop or even the specialist magic supply store. She had tried everywhere and had nearly given up altogether. One stormy night when she’d been staring at the dark skies, she’d had a moment of clarity. After some tough negotiation, she’d got it on Ebay.

  Dora put the bloodstone in the bowl and picked up the grimoire. Her heart thundered in her chest. It was going to work, it was. She could feel it. She carefully read the spell and closed her eyes, chanting with a faith she’d never felt before. Six times, she repeated the spell, and she waited.

  She held her breath. A demon was going to appear—he was! Her clock ticked loudly as she sat cross-legged in front of her summoning circle, waiting. After a few silent moments, she let out her breath in an exhausted sigh.

  Nothing again. Nothing ever works!

  She abruptly stood up and kicked over the bowl, shattering the bloodstone inside it. The thick, gloopy liquid slithered across the broken glass and mingled inside the bowl. She didn’t bother to glance at it. She stormed out of her room and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Nothing ever bloody works!

  Once Dora had left the room, a fire ignited in the centre of the circle, and the Twister mat curled up as it became inflamed in the fires of hell.

  Josie Carridine watched from the front row pew as sweat dripped down her husband's face while he shouted at the TV cameras from the pulpit, threatening the wrath of God to all sinners. She nodded in agreement when he declared all vegetarians were an abomination. She was surely blessed to have such a righteous man for a husband. Not only had he saved her from a life of sin, pole dancing at the infamous 'Big Fat Joint', he’d also helped her career as a TV producer. Oh yes, life was wonderful once you left sin behind.

  “And He shall strike you down,” Theodore shouted out to his congregation. “Down to the depths of hell if—I-if
…”

  Theodore stopped speaking and stared at the back of the church with his mouth hanging open and his eyes widening. Josie jumped when she heard a loud scream from the back of the room. She spun around to look behind her while hearing the entire congregation shifting in their seats as they did the same.

  Thick black swirls of smoke were twirling in the air around the closed doors of the church.

  Has someone set the doors on fire?

  She gaped at the fog in shock and shook her head at the thought. The mist wasn’t behaving like smoke at all. It amassed into a big black blob with more and more seeping in under the door until it split into two foggy shadows.

  She lifted her glasses, which were hanging around her neck, to peer through them. The two black smoky shapes formed into separate entities that appeared to have heads and arms. She dropped her glasses and rubbed her eyes before looking again.

  At the same time, both shadows snapped open fiery red eyes. Their maws gaped as they let out a loud hollow laugh that echoed through the church. Josie winced when Mrs. Smiggins, the oldest member of the congregation, keeled over three aisles down.

  I hope she’s fainted, and she’s not dead.

  The two shadows each gripped a handle of the double doors of the church and flung them open. A burst of flames shot through the entrance. Gale force winds blasted through the room, knocking parishioners over and sending the smaller ones flying around the church in a twister style hurricane.

  Josie ducked down in her seat and hugged the pew, which was thankfully nailed down.

  “Out, damned demon.” She heard Theodore shout at the shadows, but they had already evaporated into the flames. Lightning shot around the high ceiling of the church, shattering through the stained-glass windows. The air was alive with electricity.

  Josie fell to her knees and prayed—and this time she meant it.

  Dear God, please save me from this nightmare. I promise to be faithful and end my affair with Phil on camera four. I’ll remain good and pious, and stop trying to sell ad space on the church website. Amen.

  She glanced up to see an army of turquoise serpents slithering through the doors and up the aisles towards the congregation, who were now screaming and running towards the pulpit to escape the demon snakes. She pulled herself up and jumped back as one of the snakes snapped at her hand, almost succeeding in ripping one of her fingers off. She pulled away just in time. They were like no snakes she’d ever seen before. Their eyes were ocean-blue, and their teeth were green.

  Have they been drinking NiQuil?

  The snake reared up. It was as tall as she was. Fear slammed through her, making her knees tremble. It launched at her, emitting a deadly hiss. She threw her bible at it, knocking it backwards before she dashed towards the podium and cowered behind her husband, who continued to pray, although his voice was now hoarse.

  The wind howled around them. The parishioners who hadn’t passed out were all cowering around the pulpit. Some were white with shock, others were openly crying with thick trails of snot pouring out of their noses. They were the lucky ones, to have stuffed up noses. A few of the congregation had crapped their pants, judging by the stains on their clothes and the stench in the air.

  Josie stared towards the blazing fires at the entrance as they wickedly licked the inside of the church. She glanced down the aisle in horror as her gaze fell upon the blue snakes writhing around at the foot of the raised pulpit, hissing and biting at each other. There was no way out.

  She jumped when deep thunder echoed through the room and glanced up to see violent winds rip apart the inside of the chapel. Streaks of lighting shot around the small group of people huddled on the pulpit, making them scream and jerk in terror. Wailing pleas for God to help could be heard over the howling wind while the hurricane twisted its way up the church, about to engulf them.

  Josie gasped at several loud stomps. The church shook violently before everything disappeared. The snakes vanished, the wind died down, the lightning stopped and the fire faded into nothing.

  “Shit!” Dora cried as she walked back into her room and saw her carpet burning. She repeatedly stamped on the fire until the last ember turned to black ash.

  “Crap,” she said.

  Dad’s going to go ballistic over this.

  Dora sighed at the useless summoning circle, which was now a curled up, burnt mess. She threw herself onto her bed and lay on her stomach, staring at the black screen of her pink television. She pulled the remote control from beneath the mattress and pressed the power button on it. Her TV was only allowed one network—her father’s. She wasn’t allowed to watch anything else. Thank Beelzebub her parents weren’t net savvy, or she would be living in a religious bubble.

  Since it was her bedtime, she knew the stupid show would be over soon. Sometimes the old black and white movies they showed late at night weren’t too bad. Doris Day kicked ass in Calamity Jane.

  The television flickered into life, and her dad’s show appeared on the screen. People were wailing, crying and praising the Lord.

  Aww shit, they didn’t do another one of those miracle cures shows, did they?

  Dora’s eyes widened as Molly Carmichael, the prim librarian from the main library, wandered in front of the camera mumbling incoherently. Molly turned her back to the camera and bowed to the pulpit. Dora's eyes widened more when she saw what she could only describe as effervescent shit stains decorating the back of Molly’s pink tweed skirt. She watched Molly wander off camera, still mumbling random words like, ‘snakes’ and ‘demons’ as she disappeared from view.

  For the first time ever, Dora found herself glued to her dad’s show.

  I can’t believe I missed this.

  Her father finally came on screen as he pulled himself up off the floor. He clawed at the podium and dragged himself up, so his head appeared over it. He was shaking all over and had a few small cuts and gashes on his face. His hair looked like an oversized white afro hovering around his head. The priest’s collar of his vestments hung limply down his neck in a white line.

  “Dah …” He tried to speak, but his voice was so hoarse he only managed a sound. He was breathing hard. Judging by the murderous look in his eyes, Dora knew whatever he was about to say was not going to be good.

  “Dohh …” He managed before taking a deep breath. He stared down at the podium for a moment in silent fury.

  He eventually looked straight up into the camera. The moans and wails of parishioners were echoing behind him, through the microphone. “D-Do-Dora, I’m going to kill you!” Her father gasped into the camera before he passed out on the podium and slid to the floor.

  Dora blinked at the screen.

  Shit, what am I getting blamed for now?

  Kieron Lascher stopped chasing turquoise snakes when a burst of light exploded in the darkness a few feet away from him. He frowned and walked over to it. It was a hole ripped through the ether, a jagged tear of light in his dark and dismal world.

  He reached out his hand and touched the shimmering light. It was warm and sticky. He pulled his hand back and glanced around him. There was no one around. Even the twittering hell spawn were up to no good elsewhere today. It wasn’t surprising since it was only a couple of weeks until Judgement Day. Everyone was cramming for the finals.

  Kieron knew he should be studying too. His father would eviscerate him if he failed this time. He had been revising all morning, trying to catch a snake for an experiment, but he had just ended up with several bites off the bloody things.

  He tried not to let it bother him, but he was a failure at being evil. Nothing ever worked out. He got the formulas right, but it just never turned out evil enough. If he failed his test this year, he would be expelled from Hell. Everyone knew what that meant. A fate worse than colonic irrigation—he would be exiled to Earth.

  He had never been to Earth. He’d been born in Hell, but he’d seen it through the various portals. He shuddered at the thought of it. He’d seen the monotonous work humans
had to do; filing, spreadsheets … homework! Humans were sorry creatures; they followed dreams of things they’d never have, and they were powerless in the world they lived in. He couldn’t imagine anything worse. No, he had to pass the test this year—being exiled to Earth was not an option.

  He tilted his head while he studied the tear of light. After a few minutes of contemplation, he decided the best plan was to fix it. It was dangerous leaving a gaping hole in the ether lying around like this. Someone might fall into it and hurt themselves.

  He ran his fingers over the edges and encountered the warm sticky feeling again.

  What kind of tear is it?

  It pulsed as if it were alive. He’d never seen a portal like it, but there were a lot of lunatic demons practising spells at this time of year. It was obviously a mistake because no talented warlock would create something so messy.

  The wind howled around him in harsh, warm gusts. He glanced back and stared at the desolate horizon.

  Are the volcanoes playing up again?

  A vice-like grip clamped onto his wrist, which was still hovering over the tear in reality. He yelped when it tugged on his arm. The tear growled as it became a vortex, sucking things into it with howling winds and a terrifying force. Snakes and shrubbery shot past him as the growing hole consumed them. The ground shifted towards the portal, and the red sands of the barren landscape swirled around him. He attempted to scream but could only cough as the sand blew into his mouth.

  He pulled back against the vacuum, trying to free himself from the portal, but the force was too powerful. He finally managed to cry out for help, but the sound was lost in the din. Using every muscle in his body, he tried to detach from the pulsing gash in reality. The power of the suction increased, lifting him off the ground before the portal pulled him into another realm.

  Kieron squeezed his eyes shut as a blinding light flashed around him. His stomach leapt into his throat. The force of the pull flattened his cheeks to his skull. Every nerve in his body screamed in protest as gravity crushed it. He warily opened one eye, just in time to see the tear become a distant shadow. Flashes of bright lights sped past him. He crashed into something soft and expelled a shocked yelp of pain. Everything went dark as the portal closed.