Girl wait until you hear the weekend I’ve had.

It started with a fire at the church. It started at like three o’clock Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t that big of a fire, they got it out by like 4:30. But then it started again, inexplicably at like 6 pm. And then again at 7:45. Over and over again all night for no reason. So yeah. Like obviously that was an us thing.

Sophie, Iphigenia, Georgia and I met outside the church at like midnight. From the outside the place looked totally intact, except that it was sorta smoldering a little.

“It’s probably a spirit,” Sophie said, jaw set. Turns out this is the first thing Sophie and Iphigenia have ever been sent to do on their own, and they’re taking it super seriously. Which — hey you know what I appreciate that someone is, Neal .

We had to sneak in cuz the fire department was keeping such a close watch on the place. Sophie and Iphigenia drew a pentacle in the floor and got set up to cleanse the place — and if you think I wasn’t absolutely delighted to draw a pentacle on the floor of a catholic church you’re wrong my friend you’re dead wrong.

I’m sure they would have done a great job, except that a little ball of fire came bouldering through between the church pews, scattering sparks and shrieking and scaring the shit out of all of us.

Upon closer inspection they were like capuchin monkeys that are on fire and pissed off about it. Their hands and feet left little scorched, smoldering prints in the floorboards.

According to Iph and Sophie they’re called imps, and again, I really thoroughly enjoyed that the church was full of imps, I’m sorry to my catholic ancestry.

What we thought was going to be a fun spooky cleansing situation with like candles and smoke and idk fun witch stuff, pretty rapidly turned into the four of us chasing fire monkeys around the church with old cat carriers we found in basement, left over from the pet drive they hold down there every summer.

It took like an hour for us to realize that the cat carrier method was not going to work. Like I definitely had my suspicions previous to that, but it wasn’t until Iph finally caught one and it burned through the bottom of the plastic that we finally gave up.

In the meantime of course, we must have been making a horrible racket because the fire department showed up, and to make a long story short, we’re hiding behind the pulpit and masochistic Jesus is staring down at us, when the fire fighters in full gear walk down the aisle. They see the pentagram on the floor and then, because they have hilariously good timing, the imps go frolicking by like little demons out of hell.

Ever wanted to see a large group of grown men run screaming out of a church? Well now you know how to make that happen.

The four of us regrouped the next day because there was pretty much nothing else we could do that night. We bought wire bunny coops hoping the imps would have a harder time burning through metal than plastic. Iph and Sophie bought them — apparently there’s a pretty substantial coven fund or something because money is clearly not an issue for them — and while we were loading up their car, who should walk by but Johnny Undo, Scott Gerstell and Trevor Fabriano.

(for those of you not keeping up: homecoming king, football captain, new years party guy)

“Hey,” Trevor shouted at us and Iph and Sophie froze. It was hilarious. They froze like deer with a death wish.

Not that I did much better — last I saw those boys I was asking them awkward probing questions about what I didn’t remember on New Years Eve.

Luckily Georgia was with us: “Hey,” she said somehow totally chill and sort of intimidating holding an enormous wire bunny hutch.

“You found Keith,” Trevor called.

We glanced between each other. I called back, “Yeah.”

“Nice,” Trevor said. He gave us a thumbs up. They kept walking.

I don’t know why I’m including this in the story oh god the popular boys noticed us and now I’m telling my blog I’m so fucking embarrassing kill me put me out of my misery im deleting this

Cut to last night — wait not quite. First, Warren Fucking Miller called me today.

“Can I come over?” he asked.

I was at the Circem street house with Feather Dog, Iph, Sophie and Georgia and I hadn’t really thought about Warren Miller since Friday when we rescued Keith.

Okay fine that’s a lie. I’d been picking my phone up to call him all weekend. But then I didn’t do it because he was with Keith and because I didn’t know what to say. (“Hey War, how’s your weekend? Monsters are real, how are you handling that?” lmao nah)

But then he called me, he asked to come over and when I hesitated for a long moment he added, “I kinda want to talk.”

He kinda wanted to talk. And for a single split second I imagined our eternal love blooming into eternity. And then, exploding into my head unbidden: Tilly Marlow.

“We’re busy, I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said to Warren Fucking Miller, hung up on him and threw my phone. One of Feather Dog’s enormous paws darted out to bat it like a gigantic cat.

And then Sophie said, “was that War?” in this smug tone that suggested that they were best friends. As if I had forgotten how she totally froze up before when Trevor called to us.

I wanted to snap at her but I just said, “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

I still haven’t done it. I might not. That’s not something I’m trying to deal with right now.

NOW cut to last night. Iph drove us all to the church at like ten, when we were pretty sure that we’d be able to sneak without anyone seeing us. Georgia and I sat in the back surrounded by wire bunny hutches, which was uncomfortable, but it was fine because we were supposed to be in the car for like 3 minutes and then go get the flaming monkeys out of the church.

Problem was that we weren’t the only ones at the church. There was a slick little rental already parked in the parking lot.

“Who is it, can you see?” Georgia said.

I shook my head. In the dark all I could see were two silhouettes in the front seats. Iph drove past once, and then again with the lights off so we could spy.

At first, there was nothing.

“Do you suppose they’re here to keep an eye on the place?” Sophie asked. She has a sort of affected way of speaking sometimes, like the only people she’s ever met are from like 30s Hollywood. I suspect she means to be charming, and maybe it works on some people but it drives me crazy.

“Wouldn’t they just send a firetruck?” Georgia replied.

A car door opened and a man in a trench coat climbed out. He said something we couldn’t hear to the passenger, shut the car door, and began crossing the parking lot towards the church.

After a long moment, the passenger door opened and a woman climbed out to follow him. And that was when I recognized them.

I gasped. “It’s those FBI agents!”

“No way,” Georgia said, shifting to get a better look. “Oh my god, you’re right that’s totally her hair.”

We watched in silence as they disappeared into the church, and then waited in silence for like maybe two minutes, wondering what to do, and then watched in silence again as the church doors burst open again and they came running out. The hem of the man’s long coat was on fire. He struggled to get it off and they both stamped it out on the asphalt.

We laughed at them. Sry it was funny 

We waited, hoping they’d go, but they didn’t. Instead they climbed back into their car and waited out in front of the church.

“We could go in the basement door?” Georgia suggested, but even as she said it they got back out of their car again with flashlights and started walking around the church.

“Shit,” Georgia said.

It was late and Georgia and I had school today, so we just went home. We’re gonna try again tonight. Hopefully we’ll have better luck.