Angie Fox -The Accidental Demon Slayer

by The Accidental Demon Slayer (lit)

  He cracked a smile. "Not until we're done here."

  "Oh, we're done." He could play hide-and-seek in the woods all he wanted. I had more important things to do.

  He was having none of it. "I'll tell you about Vald."

  "Yes, you will. Later. Now we find my dog." He was stalling me. I knew it. I'd seen it at naptime at Happy Hands. I recognized the signs.

  I planted my hands on my hips, wishing I had a clue which way to head. Which sparked an idea...

  Dimitri needed me safe. I had no idea why he cared so much. At the moment, it didn't matter. That was my bargaining chip. And I'd use it on him like I used Goldfish crackers on my three-year-old preschoolers.

  "Hey," I said, tugging at his black shirt, right above a bulging bicep. "If you don't take me back to the co­ven right now, I'm going to jump back in with the snake."

  He seemed almost amused. "It left."

  "What?" I reached out with my mind. Blast. He was right. Worse, I didn't even have a desire to jump into the hole, which meant even the rabid bats had wan­dered off. Just my luck.

  I cleared my mind, focused my thoughts. I could feel danger to my left, fifty yards. I limped as fast as I could in that direction, hoping my ankle would loosen up. Or fall off.

  His humor faded. "Where are you going?"

  "Over here," I huffed, pain slicing through my foot.

  Whatever I find, please don't let it be too horrible. How far was I willing to go?

  "What are you trying to pull?" Dimitri's voice be­traying a hint of concern. "Okay. Hold it. Lizzie!"

  But still, he let me hobble closer to ... it. Arrogant jerk—why didn't he stop me? I didn't have time to be fighting everything in the woods. I struggled to see something, anything in the darkness ahead. It was no use. I couldn't see more than four or five feet in front of my face.

  Still, I hurried as fast as my ankle would allow. I had no idea what I'd find. An angry bear? Axe murderer? Deer stampede? I supposed it didn't matter. Whatever it was, I headed right for it.

  "Wait!" Dimitri blocked me. "Don't."

  I lifted a brow.

  He refused to back down.

  "Take me back or I'm never speaking to you again." I practically spit venom myself. He looked as angry as I felt. "I don't even need to go in. You can go. But we need to head back now." I stared him down. "Do what I say or whatever it is you want from me, you won't get it. I promise you that."

  He stood there, indignant.

  "You wanna go again?" I asked. "I sense something nasty back behind that tree over there."

  A muscle twitched in his neck. "Fine." He gripped my shoulders, too tightly. "I'll take you to the coven. But you're not going to like what you see."

  Chapter Eight

  It looked like someone had detonated a bomb inside the Red Skull biker bar. Crimson smoke poured from the rickety two-story structure. I felt a wave of pain for the witches, for how scared they must have been when the coven had come under attack, for what they had undoubtedly lost.

  I covered my mouth with my hand, as if I could somehow block the acrid sulfur burning down my throat with every breath. Dimitri squeezed my shoulder. It felt good to have him there. I wouldn't have wanted to be alone at that moment. The forest around the house had fallen silent—not a cricket dared to chirp. The air felt heavy, foreboding.

  A strange vapor curled from the edges of the Em­ployees Only door at the back. It hissed from every win­dow frame and—I gasped—it billowed from the open window of Frieda's second-floor room. It was eerily similar to the mist I'd seen filtering out of the Yardsaver shed earlier tonight, when Grandma had communed with the demon Vald.

  I checked out the storage shed and saw it had melted at the edges. A trail of charred grass and cooked as­phalt led from the shed to the bar. My heart skipped a beat. "Holy Hoodoo."

  Dimitri's shoulder brushed mine. "I wouldn't call it holy."

  Pirate was nowhere in sight.

  Every idiot demon slayer instinct I had ordered me— no, screamed at me—to race into the house and face whatever lurked inside. Dimitri had been right about one thing. I was enthralled with anything and every­thing that could snap my limbs or chop my head off.

  As if he could sense my fear, Dimitri leaned closer. "Having second thoughts?" he asked, his voice edged with concern.

  Urn, yeah. I watched as shimmers of light danced in the upstairs windows. How about third, fourth and fifth thoughts? At least Dimitri was starting to treat me more like an ally than a ward to be protected.

  Maybe I was getting through to him. I could use a partner right about now. A low moan sounded from somewhere inside the house, and I fought the urge to run far, far away. If I had this much trouble even look­ing at the house—imagine how Pirate must be feeling if he was still inside. Hang on, little guy.

  Now that he wasn't trying to hold me back, Dimitri could turn out to be my ace in the hole. "Let's," I choked. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat to make it work right. "Let's circle around front to see if we can learn anything."

  We ventured as far as the trees and shrubs would hide us. A violet haze enveloped the street out front. The precise line of bikes we'd seen on the way inside tonight lay scattered like matchbox toys. I took heart that about half were missing. At least some of the witches had gotten away. Dimitri's SUV lay on its side with the windows smashed in. It was impossible to know what hit it, but if I didn't know better, my first guess would have been Godzilla.

  I didn't see the bike with the sidecar. I hoped Bob had made it out okay. I wished I knew whether Pirate

  had gone with him. One thing was certain. Grandma would not have left the bar with any of her coven mem­bers still inside. That meant two things. Number one, we had to check this place out whether we wanted to or not. And number two, I had a confession to make.

  Dimitri stood beside me, dark and strong. This wasn't going to be easy. I blew out a breath and hoped I wasn't about to torpedo our fledgling truce. "I have to tell you," I said, practically wincing. "I was supposed to receive the coven's protection tonight, but it didn't happen."

  Dimitri stiffened, anger pouring from him in waves. Good going, Lizzie.

  "I thought they were smarter than this," he hissed. "If you were a member of our clan, we would have conducted a protection ceremony as the first order of business. They have no right to have a slayer in their ranks if they can't defend what's theirs."

  Theirs? Hello, twenty-first century calling. Oh who was I kidding? I had bigger things to worry about. I'd set off his protection vibe. Big mistake. "It wasn't their fault," I said, thinking of the botched ceremony in the basement. "It was mine. When it came down to it, I just couldn't drink that nasty potion. Look, I'll explain it all later. The point is—"

  "The point is we're closing in on a demon infestation and you don't have the proper knowledge, training or security." He loomed over me until I had to crane my neck to see his stormy expression. "You refused your own grandmother's protection. And now you've shunned my efforts to spirit you away from this hellhole until we pursue a dog that may or may not even be inside."

  The way he said the word dog ticked me off. I opened my mouth to tell him and winced as screeches echoed from the house, like metal rubbing glass.

  "We gotta do this," I told him. I didn't know what was happening in there, but it wasn't good. The sooner we snuck in, the sooner we could run like heck.

  He drew in a hard breath. "We'll go in there," he said, his gaze trickling through me, "if you accept my protection."

  I didn't like the sound of that. Dimitri wanted some­thing from me. He hadn't told me what, which in my mind meant it was probably something I didn't want to give. It made me nervous to think of him having power over me.

  "No. Let's go." I was doing fine on my own, wasn't I? Eek. I didn't want to think about it.

  "Lizzie," he prodded. "You know it's the right thing to do."

  Oh, I knew. I sighed, torn between the urge to get this over with and the knowledge that he
was right. I'd refused to drink the witches' protection potion. I didn't want to make the same mistake again. I clenched my jaw until it throbbed. Grandma said I shouldn't trust him. But I needed him. And without the protection of the witches, I was probably crazy to even think about being as close as we were to whatever lurked inside that house. There was bravery, there was independence ... and then there was pure stupidity. I didn't need to go into this half-cocked. And if Dimitri could help me pre­pare, well, I had to accept that gift.

  "Fine."

  He tried to hide his pleasure, but I could tell he was as happy as if I'd told him he could keep me in a lock­box and throw away the key. I'd let him enjoy his little victory.

  "For now," I added, wishing I could scrub the crooked smile off his face.

  Warning bells sounded in the back of my mind. He's too happy. Of course those were the same warning bells that told me not to drink Grandma's protective po­tion. I buried my concerns. I had to, or we weren't go­ing to get anything done here. "How long will it take?"

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, velvet pouch. He tipped it into his palm and out slid an emerald the size of a grape. I whistled despite myself. It was shaped like a teardrop and glowed from the in­side out, like it had its own energy, which of course was impossible—like everything else that had hap­pened.

  "This is an ancient stone from the Helios clan. My clan. A proud and ancient order of griffins from the island Santorini. I will offer it," he said. "You will ac­cept it."

  No problem.

  "And my protection."

  He had to throw that in.

  "With free will," Dimitri added.

  Ah, so that was the key. Okay. I was willing. For now. "Let's get this over with," I told him, eyeing the blue and red orbs cascading from the bar's rooftop vents.

  Dimitri held his hand under mine. His callous fin­gers sent a rough heat spiraling through my veins as he placed the gem in the center of my palm. It felt toasty, whether that was from his pocket or from something else. I felt its energy flow through me like a soft touch. 'I offer you the protection of the Helios clan, freely given, freely taken."

  A bronze-colored chain, as thin as a spider's thread, snaked from the tip of the teardrop. "Urn," I began. The unexpected intimacy of the moment caught me off guard. I wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

  "I accept." I paused for a heartbeat. "Freely," I added, fighting my reluctance.

  It must have been good enough because the emerald glowed warm in my palm. My hand shook as the chain wrapped itself around my wrist. I resisted the urge to pull it away, to break the hair-thin band.

  "Relax." Dimitri's touch reassured me as he pulled me farther into the cover of the woods. A breeze ca­ressed my shoulders as I leaned back against the trunk of an old walnut tree. His emerald felt heavy on my wrist. It was strange, but I did feel closer to Dimitri, connected somehow. He narrowed the space between us. Was he going to seal the deal with a kiss? It oc­curred to me that I should keep my distance. He'd al­ready bound me to him with the emerald. I didn't need any more complications, but I couldn't quite make my­self walk away.

  I should have been afraid of what would happen next. Instead, I found myself anticipating it. Dimitri was the kind of man who made women want to touch him. Too bad I wasn't immune. I knew Dimitri wasn't entirely human. And I wasn't sure I trusted him. But we did want a lot of the same things. And I had to ad­mit he fascinated me.

  Dimitri hitched one leg against the tree and drew a long bronze knife from a holster in his boot. The thing was ancient, with strange carvings and green gemstones wrapped around the hilt. The polished blade gleamed razor sharp. There'd better not be blood involved in this ceremony.

  Dimitri ran his thumb along the blade of the knife. "Remember this favor, Lizzie."

  Somehow, I didn't think he'd let me forget. Frieda was right. It seemed Dimitri's help did come with a price tag attached.

  "Let's not forget you owe me too," I told him. If he hadn't kidnapped me, I would have been able to get Pirate out on my own, before the house started smok­ing from every nook and cranny. I was about to get into that when I felt my wrist go disturbingly heavy.

  "What the—?" I looked down. The wisp of a brace­let had thickened into a manacle. Of all the things I might have expected to happen tonight, I hadn't even dreamed of this.

  Mother fudrucker!

  I watched in horror as thick chains snaked from the cuff around my wrist. They slithered down my leg and captured my ankles. Fear slammed into me. "What is this?" I clutched at Dimitri. He stepped back, empty of emotion.

  "What are you doing to me?" I cried. The chains wrapped around my waist and wrapped around the bat­tered walnut tree. "Stop!" I struggled with everything I had, but the chains were relentless, twining around my body, trapping me like a fly in a spider's web.

  That liar! Dimitri had betrayed me in the worst pos­sibly way. My heart slammed in my chest. "What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice cracking with em­otion.

  Dimitri's gaze traveled the length of my body, send­ing a rush of hot anger through me. His mouth tugged into a smile, but there was no understanding or warmth. As he advanced on me like the predator he was, I struggled against the chains, dreaming what it would be like to slap the smile off his face. Dimitri leaned in close, his face inches from mine. He radi­ated heat and a raw power. "I'm doing what needs to be done."

  His eyes burned with something that wasn't quite de­sire, although there was a lot of that too. He cradled my head in his hands. And curse my mutinous body, red-hot anticipation shot through me like wildfire.

  "Don't even think about it," I told him, my voice not as steady as I would have liked.

  "I'm protecting you," he said against my mouth.

  He had to go there. As far as I could see, his protec­tion was one of my main problems right now. "Yeah?" I thrust out my chin and ignored the heat spiraling through me. "Who's going to protect me from you?"

  He pulled away, which was what I wanted. Still, it seemed like I'd missed out, which made me even an­grier. I hated games.

  Dimitri brushed my forehead with his lips, strong and confident. I felt his touch all the way down to my toes. Arrogant jerk. He seemed to enjoy taunting me. And I hated myself for buying into it. He'd be better off facing Vald than enduring one minute of what I'd do to that high-handed, good-for-nothing, two-faced brute. I never should have trusted him. Never. If I had to do it again, I'd take his teardrop emerald and shove it up his nose.

  I struggled against the manacles at my feet. See, this is where trust got me. My whole life, I put my faith in people who paid me back with half-truths and down­right lies. Now one of them had lashed me to a tree. He'd better hope he found Pirate, Grandma and the Hope Diamond in there. Maybe then, after a hundred years had passed, I'd consider speaking to him again.

  I yanked at the chains. The teardrop emerald whipped against my wrist. Never. Never again.

  Dimitri gave me a long, dark look before he headed into the house, alone.

  He stayed inside the house too long, way too long. With every passing moment, it grew less and less likely I'd ever see him again. Blast it. I struggled until I felt like I'd run a marathon. The chains didn't budge. A trickle of sweat ran down my back. What if he didn't find Pirate? Or Grandma? What if he ran into a ticked-off Vald? He'd carried one ancient knife inside, and even though it was sharp as all get out, it didn't look very sturdy. What would I do out here, chained to a walnut tree, if Dimitri didn't come back?

  Dawn approached, bathing the world in shades of gray. Still, not a bird chirped. Not one car drove down the road in front of the bar. It felt like we'd landed in purgatory. A drain pipe on the side of the house clat­tered as it began to shake.

  Dimitri burst out the front door—without Pirate. His black T-shirt hung in bloody shreds, and he looked like he was running for his life. He leapt behind his over­turned SUV as the house exploded. I would have given anything to duck. Windows shattered with the forc
e. Smoke poured from the house as it sagged in on itself.

  My chains coiled away from the tree. I lurched for­ward, catching my balance as they wound away from my ankles and up my legs. It was the worst feeling in the world, like something living had attached itself to me. But I had bigger things to worry about.

  Dimitri bolted for the nearest motorcycle still stand­ing, a silver Harley with red skulls painted on the side. "Get on!" he hollered to me. He slid onto the seat, rolled the throttle and hit the ignition. The engine roared to life. I ran straight for him, my oxfords crunching against glass and debris.

  For a split second, I thought about grabbing my own bike and getting as far away from here as I could. But I didn't know how to ride. Worse, I had no idea where to go.

  "Now!" he yelled.

  The bike didn't even have helmets. Some protector. I caught a glimpse of a pink helmet, half buried under a collapsed bike. It was mine now. I grabbed it and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw the chain around my wrist had morphed into body armor that stretched across my chest. Intricate carvings wound up the armor, with the teardrop emerald centered above my breasts.

  Dimitri slammed his bike to a stop in front of me, spitting rocks and dirt as I shoved the pink helmet on my head and climbed behind him. I wanted to ask him if he'd found any sign of Pirate, if he'd seen anything else inside the house and if it was pure stupidity or a death wish that had made him tie me up. Before I could get a word out, he jumped on the gas. My back smacked against the metal safety bar as we peeled out into the dawn.

  We drove for at least an hour on dusty, unpaved back roads. Dimitri made sure to hit every pothole and ant­hill. I'd never realized what a smooth ride Grandma delivered. I closed my eyes as we hit another bone-rattling dip in the pavement. Please be okay, Grandma. I didn't know where we were going, but wherever it was, I hoped she'd be there. There were so many things I needed to tell her.

  Dimitri slowed in front of the first sign of civiliza­tion we came upon, an old broken-down Shoney's res­taurant. Weeds crowded the parking lot, fighting for space between the cracked concrete with its faded yel­low lines. The Big Boy himself lurched to one side, in bad need of a paint job and a can of Rust-Oleum. Dark­ening shades draped the picture windows, their win­dow boxes filled with faded plastic geraniums.