Work Header

Demons of Westerburg

Chapter Text

Veronica POV

I was leaning against the ugly mustard yellow tile of the girl’s bathroom wall, looking out of the cracked tiny window that rested above me. When I heard the door sweep open; I instantly went on guard as those who entered disturbed my peace. When I turned my head, I relaxed my tensed shoulders as I looked at the faces of my friends; Betty Finn and Martha Dunnstock.

I nod in greeting to them and pretend I don’t see the worried glance that Martha gives me and the slightly peeved one of Betty. I return to looking out the little sliver of freedom, the bright blue sky slightly covered by the greying clouds. I give a tick of a smile as a blast of cold air hits my face and I close my eyes. Pretending that I’m out of this hell hole. Soaring above everything, no school, no drama, no Dome, no demons to worry about just me and the open sky.

I hear a snap of impatient fingers close to my face. I open my eyes and frown as I turn my attention to Betty. Her brows are turn slightly downward and her black tail behind her is swishing back and forth in sign of aggravation. She steps back as she crosses her arms.

I sigh as I look from her to the water dripping from the faucet that some student didn’t turn off the whole way. I can hear her growl at me avoiding looking at her; perhaps if I don’t acknowledge her then I don’t have to have the fight that I know is about to happen.


Shit, was that the late bell? Oh, well.

Martha looks up at the noise with a look of nervousness. She has always been one to follow the rules, more regulated on it then Betty and me. I mean I want to get into good colleges after I graduate this hell hole but a few tardies aren't going to wreck me. Besides my 5.0 GPA will make Duke, Stanford or any other Ivy league college not even glance at my attendance record.

Finally, Betty snaps, her voice echoing in the tiny titled room, “Were where you?”

I know what she’s talking about, but I can’t find it in myself to care. I frown as I think about the class that I missed, Dome training.

It counts as our “gym” and “good civilian duty” towards hell kind. Fights between different schools of demons, angles, and humans alike. To show the different species who brings control of the different domains. I hate the idea, the concept, because we all know that we are pons in the bigger game between the two Kings. The Dome is a pissing match between the pons and them; but my pity goes to the humans. They don’t even realize that their being used. We call them flesh bags for a reason.

I scoff, “I was obviously in the bathroom.”

 I watch as Betty’s tail pauses then twitches in anger. I look into her eyes. Behind her glasses her eyes sit a blueish green that anyone would be envious of. Her pupils narrow into slits of a cat and shit. I know that look. My sarcasm was not appreciated, and I look to Martha for help. Ever the savior, Martha steps forward and puts a hesitant hand on Betty who freezes as she turns to me with a disapproving frown.

 “We were just worried for you,” she frowns, “You know how much trouble you can get for skipping the Dome. There was a match today.”

Fuck, missing a match is huge. I didn’t think there would be one so soon, school just started. Who was called to fight?

Betty growls, “Yeah, the idiot is lucky we covered for her.”

 I smile in appreciation for the two. I honestly won’t know what I would do without them. In a school filled with demons, who crave and rip each other apart for power; these two understand and accept one that doesn’t have any abilities. Well…one power; that she-I must keep hidden. My heart pings with guilt as I realize how they protect and trust me, yet I can’t tell them my secrets. No one must know here; they would rip me to shreds. It’s for their own protection, I remind myself.

“Thank you. What did you tell the instructor?” I ask as I lean against the wall with a better angle, so my shoulders are even. They’re still sore from last night.

 Betty lips curl into a smirk, “Explosive diarrhea.” I curl my lip in disgust.

Great, there goes whatever cool factor I had.

Martha gasps, “Betty!” She delivers a cackling Betty a small smack then rubs the area to make the barley their sting less painful as she mumbles an apology. I roll my eyes in fondness. Martha always a softie.

Martha looks to me as she steps away from a smirking Betty, “Don’t worry, Veronica. We didn’t say anything of the sort.”

She throws Betty a kitten glare as Betty smirk grows. Betty jumps onto the sink and leans her head into me like a cat would. She kicks her feet back and forth, her dirty black ankle boots with spikes swinging threatening to stab anyone in proximity.  I hide my smile as I bring my hand up to stroke her pixie cut hair. I have a half of a mind to joke that she’s going to shed all over my leather jacket.

“Aw don’t be a buzzkill Marth. Veronica knows we are just playing.” Betty angles her face as she looks up to me with big innocent eyes. Her tail brushes my hand and I can’t help but play with it around my hand. The brown fur soft against my skin. When a demon strokes you with their tail it typically leaves off their scent and is a sign of trust. After all, their tail is sensitive and a valuable part of their body, but not every demon has one. Much like light colored eyes it runs in traits.

 I snort, “When have you ever been innocent?” I watch as I let the tail trail in between my fingers. Betty pouts as she looks back down but remains leaning on me.

 “You know that as a lust powered demon I am anything from innocent.”

She tries to joke but it comes out a little sullen. I share a frown with Martha. We both know that Betty hates her powers at times. She hates how as a lust demon, she feels used by the trash of this school. I want to pound all of them in the ground. I tug on her tail, she gives me a less than threatening growl.

“You know what I meant,” I tell her affirmed, as I look down at her with a serious face. Betty looks away from me to Martha who nods in agreement, her dirty blonde locks bounce with the motion. I wrap my hand around her shoulder, and I hug a frowning Betty who attempts to struggle at the sudden contact.

Betty is always more of the hard emotional “dead inside” friend that cracks sarcastic, inappropriate jokes; but I know she hates that her powers make her do things that she wishes she could take back. Demons even have inner ones, they wish to destroy. I look at Martha for help.

“No one here is judging you Bets. We love you no matter what, demon powers included.” I feel another set of arms as Martha joins in the hug.

 “Yeah Betty,” Martha looks up to me and Betty and gives an encouraging smile. Betty grumbles something incoherent before she slumps and returns the hug with minuscule effort.

I feel a small tap and I look over to Martha who smiles mischievously, and I raise my brow in question, “Your purr-fect to us.”

 I freeze as humor grows inside of me with a warm feeling. I glance at Betty and Betty glares at her. Martha steps back giggling. I look at her before I snort out a laugh. Betty always has been butt-hurt when we crack cat jokes at her. Since her demon genes make her look human but come with feline attributes that she can’t get rid of completely; like her eyes and tail. 

“You’re the worst,” I tell Martha. Martha just shrugs with a small proud smile as Betty pouts. Her arms crossed as she leans back against the mirror.

 “That was so not funny Marth,” she grumbles but I see the hidden mirth. I look at Martha and wink as I put my arm around Betty.

 “I don’t know Betty,” I sing, “I thought it was cat-tastic!” Betty eyes narrow as she shoves me off. After a minute she joins and all three of us are giggling at our dorky selves.

The joyful moment is broken however when the door is slammed open. Martha yelps and grabs onto my arm as Betty jumps with her combat boots now on the counter. We watch with wide startled eyes as a green flash goes to one of the stalls and starts retching. We all were matching looking of disgust. One more worried than others. Martha takes a hesitant step towards the stall and freezes as the retching grows louder. She pouts in sympathy and struggles whether or not to enter with the girl. I scrunch up my nose, poor bastard. What luck to catch the stomach bug on one of the first few days of school. We all pause as the door is opened by someone else.

 “Come on Heather, bulimia is so…” the voice stops midsentence as we all stare at one another. The only noise is Heather as she pukes into the toilet and the slight noise of the facet. Standing proud at the door is Heather Chandler in all her mythic bitch glory. Her sharp black painted nails clawed against the wood as she holds it open. I make eye contact with the silver orbs that are her eyes. They flash with surprise then quickly are over shadowed by the arrogance and bitchiness that we all know and love.

“Move Heather, I think she ran into this…” Heather McNamara pauses her attempt to squeeze past Chandler as she looks from under her arm to us. McNamara’s bright blue eyes mirror ours with surprise. Her honey blonde hair up in a ponytail matching her usual yellow outfit.

Heather vomits again and Heather b-lines for the stall, leaving Chandler at the door alone. Chandler makes her entrance with her red painted lips curled in a sneer as she stalks into the bathroom, heels clinking. Pointed canines and eyes flaring dangerously as she takes large steps towards us.

I cross my arms and act unimpressed as she stops halfway, protectively in front of who I assume Duke’s stall to be. Martha scrambles back until she hides in between me and Betty. Betty slides back down so she’s sitting on the fake marble top of the sink. She mirrors my crossed arms. I tilt my head as I wait for the bitch to open her mouth. Betty wears her usual snarl at the popular crowd. I feel a protective flare for them.

Betty is known as a “lesser” demon because she has mixed blood of demon and human. You’re considered lesser even if you have a drop of it. Pure blood bitches like the Heathers’ often pick on them because they aren’t as powerful. You can also spot them out because they can’t hide their demon forms as well leaving them with traits exposed, much like Betty’s eyes or tail. More the traits, more of a mutt they are. Whether it be a mixture of half demon and human or lesser demon with lessor demon.

Thankfully, Duke has stopped vomiting. However, the stench sweeps from the stalls and her hard, tired breaths echo in the small room. I’ve heard of the rumors of Heather Duke making herself purge but I never thought that they were real. I can’t imagen how someone would be so desperate to be pretty that they would make themselves vomit.

We hear McNamara ask concerningly, “Maybe you should see a doctor Heather.” We all hear Duke snort as she spits.

“Gross,” I hear Duke mutter before responding, “Yeah Heather maybe I should.”

I wonder if she’s being sarcastic or not. It’s always been hard to tell when Duke’s being sarcastic with her carefully created mask and voice giving nothing away. Chandler posts herself out of the stall as she narrows her silver eyes daring us to say something.

I look down and notice with dread at the glistening half-dried blood on her red shirt and leather pants. Well at least I know who fought today. Even though it doesn’t surprise me. I hate to admit but Heather, well all of the Heathers, are hell of good fighters in the Dome. Chandler however is exceptional; being undefeated. Would make sense as the daughter of the Greater Demon Asmodeus. Aka; Greater Demon of Wrath and Lust, amongst other things.

“Well? What are you waiting for an invitation? Get out,” Chandler orders as her glower burns into us. Her one nail taps against the plastic door impatiently.

 I feel Betty tense up behind us and I put a hand on her knee. Hopefully to calm her down before she says something stupid. You have to be careful around Wrath demons, quick to anger, eager to fight. I know Heather would put all of us out of commission.

I observe her relaxed form. Her red mane is curly in a half up/ half down wear in a curly lax ponytail. Her pale skin is flickered with dried blood, not that she cares. It reminds the rest of us what happens to those who fight against her. I’m sure she likes to wear it like a type of make-up, to booster about yet another victim dead against the queen bee.

Chandler toned form twitches with irritably. I watch as the tendons flex under her skin as she taps the plastic, we all know it contains hidden strength in those muscles. She stops and leans back with her hands behind her.

Betty either stupidly or bravely replies, “We were here first.”

Martha and I flick concerned glazes at one another. Now, it not the best time to let your anger get ahead of you Betty.

Chandler eyes flick to her and she narrows her eyes as she assesses her. Betty tail puffs out and straightens it at the threat. If I knew we weren’t in possible shit, I would laugh.

“I don’t give a shit. Now shoo kitty,” Chandler snides. Heather flicks her hand in a ‘get away’ motion. Betty lip curls and I watch as her pupils dilate. Betty determinedly crosses her legs and makes no move to move. I feel like something is about to happen and I feel myself tense with anticipation. I can sense Martha’s anxiousness grow.

“Why should we be the ones to leave?” Betty challenges.

Oh god, Betty shut up. I flicker my gaze nervously to Heather. I know that the pure bloods haven’t been the kindest to us, but it doesn’t mean we should pick fights with the strongest fucking ones. Heather’s eyes narrow as her lip curls to snarl, her white canines on display. I swallow down my nerves as I stare at them.

“You got some nerve pussy cat…,” she spits out the name, “…for that I’ll let you and you’re…” she trails off as she eyes the rest of us. I feel my skin crawl as her dangerous glint scans my form. I subconsciously put my hands in my leather jacket and pull it tighter around me. A strong smell of anger emits from Betty and I fight the urge from covering my nose., “…weak blooded friends leave unharmed.”

“The fuck, oh no she didn’t,” Betty growls, she tenses her legs and leaps. Her anger outrunning her brain. Welcome to stupid-vile, population us.

 I manage to catch her before she can pounce. I grunt as Betty elbows me in the face, “Shit. Martha help!”

“Let me go! I can take her!” Betty pleads.

“No, you can’t you, dumb fuck!” I argue. Betty hisses and growls in response.

“Ow! Calm down Betty! Shit!” I say as I receive multiple scratches and good hits.

Betty struggles and squirms; her tail swishing and her claws out. I looked over my shoulder and glare at the person who caused it. Did I mention Heather Chandler is a bitch?

Martha helps me restrain Betty from getting an ass whooping. Chandler watches us bored. McNamara sticks her head out of the stall, probably curious of me swearing and Betty hissing. She turns to Chandler with a pointed brow.

“What’s going on?” McNamara questions. Chandler huffs as she flickers her gaze from the stall door to us. She turns her head to McNamara.

“Apparently these excuses of demon’s can’t control their alley cat,” she retorts.

 McNamara looks to us and covers her mouth, but I see the smile. Bitches. I finally pick Betty up and hug her to my chest. I can feel her rumble with concealed hisses and growls as she realizes she won’t get to her target. I glare at Chandler in blame. She lifts a brow up in response.

 “Get the fuck out. I’ve been more than patient with you losers. I won’t tell you again.” Chandler states.

I know she’s being honest. I can remember vividly at how I was by my locker when a body was thrown from the bathroom. A pissed off full demon formed Heather Chandler standing over a cowering, battered of a boy. His body outline stamped into the metal lockers, like some form of cartoon character after they’ve fallen from great heights. She picked up his crumpled form by his neck as she re-slammed him into the wall. Her eyes glowing blood red as her horns curled around her head in a protective crown. Her nails and teeth enlarged into claws and sharp canines, her hand digging into her prey’s neck. She leans forward and growls with so much power and hate I swear it shook the school. I shake my head from the memory.

As I go to carry Betty out, we all turn as the door opens and my stomach drops as instructor Flemming walks in. She is a lesser demon as well, but unlike the rest of us that look more human she is more demon-oid. Her skin is a pink like she always has a sun burn, her glasses specially made for her three eyes. Her hair is in an frizzy brown mess, her peace sign necklace shining ironically on her red neck. As she walks in, she crosses both sets of arms and her one mouth smirks as the other talks. She’s not the prettiest sight.

 “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Flemming asks rhetorically.

Chandler doesn’t bother to hide her hateful scowl as McNamara freezes. I notice she grabs Heather’s sleeve as she stares at Flemming. Betty, Martha and I all look at one another and nod. We’ve all skipped class before but thanks to me and my loser hobbies I’ve learned how to get us out of it. Betty plants her feet as they both shuffle in front of me. I take a pen from my pocket and grab a piece of emergency scrap paper I have and start to write on the corner of the sink. Please excuse Veronica Sawyer, Betty Finn, Martha Dunnstock from class as they’re out on official Dome business.

 “Heather. Heather,” I feel a hit of pity as Duke’s urge to purge hits her again. The splash of the contents of the girl’s stomach to the toilet water make my stomach churned. God, why does she do that to herself? Even Flemming has the decency to wince at the noise. “…and Heather. Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell with all of the vomiting your late to class.”

Chandler scowl grows as Mrs. Flemming seems to be ignoring us and only focusing on them. Chandler’s eyes cut to me before she goes uncaringly. “Heather wasn’t feeling so well. We’re helping her.”

Both of Flemming’s mouths curl into smirks, I can’t help but shutter. “Not without a hall pass you aren’t. Week’s detention all of you.”

I don’t know what possess me, but I quick add their names. Please excuse Veronica Sawyer, Betty Finn, Martha Dunnstock, Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, Heather McNamara from class as they’re out on official Dome business. I put the head of the Dome program on their knowing that he’s hard to reach. He’s a pureblood so he won’t even associated himself with Flemming. I know it’s messed up but works in my corner.

“Umm... actually Mrs. Flemming” Both Heathers turn to me and poor Duke stumbles out of the stall as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I feel a punch of pity as I look at her green form. She looks like shit. Mrs. Flemming blinks as if she just realized that I was in the room. “All of us are out on a hall pass,” I pause knowing Betty is going to be pissed with me. “Dome committee.”

She reaches out with her bottom right hand and snatched the paper out of my hand as if I’ll poison her. She brings it up to her face and I watch as all three of her eyes flicker the paper, looking for anything wrong with it. I feel a pinch and I turn to Betty’s angry frown. Her eyes are narrowed screaming, ' The fuck.' Yep, she’s mad. We hear a sad sigh.

“Hurry up and go wherever you’re going.” She throws the paper back at me and then makes her way out. I catch it and smirk as I turn to a Chandler. She has her head tilt as she scans me questioningly.  She catches my gaze and quickly frowns. I grab Betty’s arm before anything else can happen and I go, “You’re welcome.” I pull a stubborn Betty and Martha follows. I hear as she quietly whispers to Duke. “Feel better.”

We walk down the hall and eventually, as I knew it was coming, I feel as Betty slams me into the lockers and I grunt with impact. Martha looks at me worriedly and I put my hand up in a gesture to stop her from interfering. She pauses but brings her hand up and bites on her thumbnail nervously watching our transaction. We both know that Betty can get ahead of her feelings at time, and it’s best to let her tired herself out. I look down as Betty looks up at me. Her arm across my chest and her other holding my wrist to the wall of lockers. Her eyes narrowed, her pupil’s barley there in angry slits.

“What the fuck was that?!” She hisses. Her tail swishing rapidly behind her.

 I know what she means. I can see the hurt in her eyes-the Heathers and those like them have bullied us for all our lives. We used to get along when we were little, but we’ve grown. It sparked a change we became mean less…human? I look down at the smaller girl and hope that my remorse shows in my eyes. I don’t feel bad for helping them out, I feel bad that I hurt my friend.

“I’m sorry Betty. I didn’t do it to hurt you or Martha. I’ve been victim to them too. I just thought after hearing Duke she could use a break. And the Heathers’ are typically a package.” I side smile hoping she’ll smile back. She doesn’t; she just growls.

“Why? Why would you help those…those…blood ranked bitches! They have been nothing but tortured us our entire lives! And maybe, the one time when they can’t power themselves out of punishment, you help them?” She says, and I bit my lip as I look down. What can I say? She’s right.

I take a breath, “I don’t know if I’m being honest I just…I had a feeling Betty.” She stops moving and I can see that she is waiting. I look to Martha, but she seems just as intrigued. Even though I’ve never had quote on quote “powers” in their eyes; they know about these feelings or intuition that I get. Typically, I follow it and they usually turn out to be right; but it only comes out for something major. Like the time that I sensed that Martha’s great grandmother was going to pass. I don’t like to think about that.

“What feeling Ronnie?” Martha asks gently over Betty’s shoulder. I swallow as I look into the hurt eyes of Betty. I grab her forearm that’s on my chest and squeeze it in reassurance.

“I don’t know entirely but I just knew that I needed to put their names on the note. I mean life is sucky enough why not do something nice and make it beautiful?” I look up into their gazes. I can’t read Betty’s, but Martha just seems contemplative.

I try to joke, “But hey…” my voice cracks, “…it’s like they owe us now. Isn’t it?” Betty glances between my eyes and I hope she can see how sincere I am. Riiing. We ignore the click of doors opening as the thirty-minute block period has ended and soon the over bearing noises of footsteps and talking. People start coming out of class and give us weird glances. She sighs as she leans back; leaving me a little less pressure on my chest. She runs a hand through her short hair with the hand that she was holding my wrist with.

 “I don’t know Ronnie. Once a bully always a bully. People like us…. we don’t get second glances from them. So why should we?”

I pause thinking about what she said. Would the Heathers save us if the roles where reversed? No, they won’t have. But I can’t explain the feeling like I needed to.

Martha interjects, “They might not be the nicest…” No shit. Betty scoffs. “But everyone deserves kindness.” I smile, thank god for Martha. If only they knew her secret, then everyone would leave her alone. It’s just because of her looks and that she hangs out with us.

“I don’t know if that rule should apply to the literal demon queen Marth,” Betty says as she stands back. I roll my shoulders as I try to get sting of the hit out. Betty crosses her arms and refuses to look at me. “But I still think you messed up Ronnie. And…I don’t mean about how you were nice to the cruelest bitches in school. But when have you known the Heather’s owe anyone?”

I freeze as her logic hits me, oh shit. What did I do?


For the rest of the day I have been on paranoia overload. Why did Betty have to say that? Every class I’ve worried if a Heather is going to be in class and jump me or something. I know I’m being ridiculous…or not knowing them. Thankfully, most of my classes are filled with nerds and the jocks stay at their end of the room. No Heathers, well that was until my AP literature class. I walked in and low behold sits Heather Duke in all her green glory. I quickly snap my gaze away and slink myself to the farthest desk away as possible.

I put my hand on my temple as I try to not oh-so-subtle look at her. Maybe she hasn’t seen me? I look at her outfit. Puzzlement hits me as I notice her casual outfit, the Heather’s always wear the latest trends. Duke has on dark blue jeans with black and white vans. Her top is an off the shoulder dark green top. Her black hair is pulled back in a styled messy braid. Her bangs carefully curly around her face accenting her clean jaw line. Then as sensing my stare Heather turns her head and I don’t breathe as we lock gazes. Her bored expression turns to harsh suspension as her emerald eyes narrow. I gulp and find my lap the most interesting thing in the world. Good job Veronica, that wasn’t obvious at all.

The teacher walks in, Mr. Tubon. His ears slightly pointed and has scales of an anaconda in odd patches all over his skin. His eyes, like Betty’s, are slanted. He starts to write: Welcome to AP Lit on his board along with his name. After, a minute or two I gather up the bravery to look over and Duke now has her arms crossed and her lip curls back as some boy makes futile attempts to talk to her. She promptly looks out the window and ignores him. The poor boy doesn’t seem to pick up on her aggravation; as he tries to double his efforts to get her to notice him.

In trying to woo her, he magically uses his powers to grow a rose in the middle of her desk, carefully making sure Mr. Tubon doesn’t notice. Using powers outside of certain areas are a big no, unless you’re the right demon that is. Duke turns back and blankly looks at the black rose. The boy smiles and I can see the vines on his arm twitch in hope. Duke leans forward with a smile and closes her eyes as she smells the rose. The boy preens and I watch as she cresses the flower before giving a wicked smile. With her gentle touch I watch the flower die as she uses her power. The boy watches with shocked horror, she crushes the now dead petals and blows them all over his face. The boy’s vines clamp shut as he turns around with a pale face. That’s funny as it is horrid.

I can’t stop watching as the dried, dead petals now scattered all over the floor. I gulp, I really hope that is not me soon. I barley pay attention to the lecture as I continue to glance at Heather. She is resting her chin in her hand as she looks out at the window for majority of it, lost in her own thoughts. I wonder what she’s thinking about…probably someone’s demise. Well she doesn’t seem that hostile, I mean if she wanted me dead, she would’ve done something by now…right? I’m probably worrying about nothing. I take a deep breath and attempt to write down what’s on the board. George Orwell human author- Big Brother. What does he represent? It represents the government and the constriction of media and beliefs. If Big Brother says 2 + 2 = 5; it must be true. What does this say about our society? And everything wrong with the leaders? I scoff, much like our society? I shake my head in disbelief.

I jump as the bell rings, Riiiiing. I shake my head at myself, wow I’m being such a pillowcase. I wish that I can fast forward to the end of the day. I smile as I think of my plans for later, well after the ones with Betty and Martha. I frown, ugh I’m probably going to have to listen to Betty bitch at me for the rest of tonight. I take a deep sigh through my nose as I gather up my books. My stomach growls and I can find myself glad for lunch for once. Even as gross as the food is, I need something inside me now, maybe I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

I try to look over people’s heads as I look for the familiar forms of Betty and Martha in the crowded hallway. I gasp as someone runs into me and I relax as I recognize the light blue sweater with a unicorn on front, “Oh hey, Martha.”

She looks up to me and smiles, her right dimple showing, “Hey Ronnie. How was your last class?”

I shrug, “Good as you can expect. Duke was in it.” Martha’s eyes widen as she gazes my form for any signs of fowl play. She gently touches my arm in a silent question. I rub the back of my neck, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just kinda freaked that Betty might be right and they’re gonna do something. I mean I kinda egged them on.”

Martha bits her low lip and chews on it for a moment, she has to turn her body sideways so a small group of girls can squeeze past, “I don’t know, maybe they won’t do anything? Like you said we… well you helped them out.”

I shrug once more and stop as I reach my locker. I take my textbooks and switch them for my afternoon classes. I take Martha’s books and put them in my locker with me, after all; why make her walk all the way to her locker if we can just share? She flashes me an appreciative smile.

“Are we still on for movie night?” She asks me. I look at her like she’s crazy, we always go to one another’s houses after school unless something else comes up.

I elbow her playfully, “Of course. You’re on jiffy pop detail, right?” Martha nods her head in agreement. I shut my locker as we make our way towards Betty’s.

“So what movie are we doing tonight?”

 Martha bounces in her excitement as she answers me, “I rented the Princess Bride!”

I groan as I laugh, “Ohh… again?” Of course, she would, “Haven’t you memorized it by now?”

Martha shrugs sheepishly and mumbles, “I like happy endings, okay?” I frown at that. Martha has put up more shit then she should. If I didn’t know that she was a demon I would’ve bet my life that she was an angle or part. She’s the nicest demon person I know.

I hip check her to regain her attention, “Fine we’ll deal with your happy ending but next time I get to pick and it’s going to be a horror.”

 Martha grimaces, and I smile deviously. Martha hates horror and Betty and I love them. As we near Betty’s locker we run into a scene that makes me wish that I had some sort of power, so I beat the living shit out of some of these assholes, and speaking of assholes, Jacob Matthews. First born son of a Pyrokinetic demon, which means he has literal fire power on his side. He’s not necessarily a pure demon but has enough power to shut anyone up. He runs with the other strong demons; the country club.

I watch as Betty snarls, “Fuck off! I’m not some toy you can play with!” She slams her locker shut in anger, but I can see the underline fear. I pick up my pace with Martha not far behind. I feel anger build up as I grow near, who does this self-proclaiming prick even think he is?!

Jacob ignores Betty’s outburst and he leans forward as he eyes her hungrily, “Aw don’t be like that pussy cat. You know that you want to.”

Betty lip curls back in a silent snarl, “As if.” Jacob’s smirk only grows as he leans forward, pinning Betty between him and the lockers. A scent of fear hits me and it makes something inside me snarl.

“Now, don’t be mean. You are going to enjoy it, I mean after all you’re a lust demon it’s what you do. You’re a natural whore.” I watch with aghast as Betty’s bravo crumbles. She tries to keep herself together and pushes him away, but he doesn’t budge.

I hear a wolf whistle as some dickwad goes, “Alright! Get Ready Betty already pulling her panties down!” Jacob turns and laughs as his country club pricks stop to watch a few feet away.

A spark of anger grows as I see hurt flash across her face at the nickname. My usually cocky best friend turns into an uncomfortable uncertain demon as soon as someone says that dumb nickname or talk about her powers. I hate it. I hate them. I make my way up to her locker as I grab the sleeve of Jacobs polo shirt. I yank him hard enough to pull him away from Betty. Betty wide eyes lock into mine and I feel myself grow with spark with power. I position myself between him and my friends, making sure they’re both behind me. Protect them something in me screams. So, I turn to Betty’s assailant.

“Excuse me. Who the fuck do you think you are?” I ask as I step up toward him. No one should be treated like that.

He stops laughing with his buddies as he steps towards me. He runs his hand threw is mop of a hair. I hate to admit it but if he wasn’t a disgusting worm, I’d call him handsome. He towers over my five-foot eight inches form by a good four inches and is solidly built. His horns are black and are sharp little points peeking out of his styled locks.

“You heard me,” he teases. My lip curls as I step up so I’m nose to nose with him. I can see Martha comforting Betty and it makes something spark inside me.

“Apologize,” I grit out between teeth. My hand clenches into fists so tight it hurts. I really want to deck him, but I know I won’t win. My heart pounds with anger, adrenaline, and nerves. I look into his dark smug eyes. He throws his head back and looks to his friends as if confirming they’re seeing this too. They all smile and gaze at me hungrily. It pisses me off.

“I wonder what gives you the right to pick on my friend? You’re a high school has been, a future gas station attendant.”

He leans towards me fast, and I lean back to avoid being head butted. I find my nerves wavering as he smiles cockily as she flicks my face, “You have a zit right there.” I feel myself turn red in anger and embarrassment as the hall erupts with laughter. I suddenly find myself being shoved on the floor. I feel my back hit the bottom of a locker and I look up with slight fear as flame spread across his shoulders. I look over as I hear Betty fight and Martha struggle against his friends. My heart drops. I’m fine getting beat up but not my friends. He curls his lips into a smile, but it falls at a sound of a well-known voice.

“Fuck off Mathews! That loser is mine!”

The crowd, that I wasn’t aware of forming, parts as Chandler and the rest of the Heathers follow. Heather stares down anyone who dares look in her direction. She turns to me and I thought I saw something other than anger, but I guess I was wrong as she curls her lip towards a groupie of jocks. Great, what does she want?

Heather marches up to Jacob and he looks fearful for a moment before he recaps on his charming smirk. I realize as he puts it on; it’s a mask, he’s just as scared as we are of Chandler. I can practically smell the nerves coming from him. I guess the demon queen is going to repay me already. I look up with a smirk, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I am suddenly lifted into the air by my collar as Heather shows part of her full demon form. Her horns grown from her temples, they’re cream colored, as one branch circles around her head and shorter branched towards her face. Her canines grow and enlarge to daggers capable of ripping out anyone’s throat. I feel my shirt tear as her nails grow into claws. I grab her wrist as I get lifted even higher into the air as her already imposing 5’ 7” form grows to towering height. I look over helplessly to Betty and Martha; who went from Jacob’s friends clutches to the other Heather’s. I am unsure which one is worse. McNamara restraining a thrashing Betty and Duke standing with a shaking Martha. Betty looks at me with eyes that scream, ‘Told you. Bitches are Bitches’.

McNamara leans forward and whispers something to her, I can’t hear it from this distance but whatever she says calms Betty down. Betty looks to me and nods. I looked at her in confusion. What? What does she mean by that? My attention is pulled back to Chandler as her voice comes out more graveled as she lets some of her power roll off her. Oh fuck, oh fuck, what did I do? I wrap my hand around her wrist, as anger gets replaced by fear. I shouldn't have fucking helped her. Help a demon and you end up going to hell.

“This loser and those two,” she points towards Betty and Martha, “are The Heathers for the next week. Anyone that has a problem will go through us,” she growls.

She pulls me towards her, and I close my eyes expecting my body to meet the same fate as that one boy. A battered mess as my body molds into the lockers. Instead I feel a powerful heat behind me and something sharp jabbed into my throat, the scent of roses and something akin to smoke reach my nose. Heather has spun me around, so my back is against her torso, I feel my hand grabbing her arm as she has her knives for nails posed at my throat. Ready to rip it out, if she chooses. I can feel her hot breathes hit against my side of the face and I find the courage to look up. Heather is glaring red daggers at Jacob. I can literally feel the waves of aggression and strong emotion emit from Heather and my body responds as I go into flight/fight mode. My muscles tense and I feel a strong will to want to rip apart anything. Something.

Heather’s gifts as being daughter of a Hell Lord and pureblood gives her the ability to use her gifts on others. She can control them with wrath and lust. Causing those around her to feel her fury, to want to gain up in arms to her cause. Then if they can’t get angry enough, she uses her charm to seduce them to her biding.

I close my eyes painfully tight trying to regain myself, Veronica, it’s Heather you’re reacting to her. I take a calming breath and I slowly open my eyes. Watching as Jacob tenses, debating whether to get his prey back or not. Demons don’t like sharing. Finally, he stands up and sneers at me with death promised in his eyes. Great, after Heather is done killing me, he’ll come back and rip apart whatever is left or me...or tap dance on my corpse. I see other demons tense ready to act on Chandler's word; her wrath becoming theirs.

“I’ll see you later skank,” he threatens towards me. Heather growls at that and I can feel the powerful vibrations go through my body. I feel a fresh wave of fear hit me. Fuck, what have I gotten myself into? I can feel sweat start to form at my brow and I am unsure whether it’s from fear or the rolling heat coming from Heather’s body. We stand like that until he and his jerk ass friends fade from the crowd. No one else dares to move; to afraid to be Chandler's new target.

“Well what are you waiting for? Get your sorry asses to class,” She growls and like a whip they all scurry and scatter their way towards their next room.

 I can feel as Heather’s body relax a miniscule. I turn my head to look back at her. What is she going to do to me? I could fight her sure, but my ass is grass either way. She seems calm as she watches people go to and fro. I release how close we are and the claws not even inches from my throat. I bite my lip unsure if I should say anything. I want her to let me go. When my attention refocuses, I see that she is already watching me. I feel a strange flutter in my stomach as a feeling of something hits me. I take a deep breath and my nose fills with roses and smoke. It’s an interesting combination. I hear myself growl at Heather, and I watch as her pupils dilate at my challenge.

Someone clears their throat loudly and we turn to see the Heathers and my friends waiting for us. Duke and Betty wear matching arms crossed, but were Betty is frowning, Duke is looking uncaringly. McNamara looks something between awe and curious? Martha just watches us nervously.

Hell, I feel that Martha.

“Well are you coming, Heather?” Duke asks. I can feel Heather tense as she pulls me closer. I look up worriedly and Heather seems to be at war with herself. She must not be used to letting her victims live. Her past Dome fights fly through my head: bloody, horrifying and graceful.

“Shut up, Heather,” Chandler growls with narrowed eyes. Duke just rolls her eyes in response. Heather lets go of me and I thankfully take my step away, but before I get to far, she grabs my throat. I look into her eyes once again, I start to feel fear and anger build up inside. She leans forward and whispers hotly, threateningly, “Now you owe me, weak blood.”

She pulls back, and I feel her claws dig into my skin. I swallow at the threat. Her claws dig into my throat and she pulls back quickly. I flinch at the sudden pain. I bring my hand up and I pull it away. I relax at no blood, but I know I’ll be wearing these claw marks for a few days. I look up to glare, but I only receive their retreating colorful backsides. What a mythic bitch.