Angie Fox -The Accidental Demon Slayer

by The Accidental Demon Slayer (lit)

  The witches had gathered in the nearby woods for a purification and strengthening ceremony. Seems I wasn't invited to that one.

  "Give me some space," I told Dimitri.

  I eyed Pirate, sitting obediently on Sidecar Bob's lap. Pirate liked to holler out words of encouragement right as I was throwing. "And you hush now, Pirate," I said, drawing back to throw. He wouldn't last a minute on a golf course.

  "Me? I didn't say a word. Except to wish you good luck. What's the matter with good luck? You could use some luck right now."

  I brought my throwing arm down, refocused. A little bit of magic wouldn't hurt either. Look to the outside. Accept the universe. Sacrifice yourself. As much as I wanted to save Grandma, I wasn't too crazy about that last one.

  The star felt weightless in my hand. / can do this. I had to. I was the only one who could kill a demon. Once I figured out my switch stars. I whipped the star back and fired it toward the target.

  "Incoming!" Pirate hollered. The witches scattered as my switch star hurtled toward their sacred circle. Blast! I cringed as it crashed right through one oak tree, then another, and another, cleaving the tops right off.

  "Watch it!" I yelled as tree limbs rained down on the coven.

  The switch star circled high in the air like a boomerang and plunged straight for my head, its razor-sharp blades a whirl of lightning. I ducked. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. The star smacked into Dimitri with a dull thud. I glanced back. He didn't look happy.

  Andrea's laughter rang out, clear and bright, above the guffaws of the other werewolves.

  Dimitri towered above me, my star spinning like a record on his finger. The look on his face reminded me of the perpetual knitted eyebrows of my high school driver's ed teacher, Mr. Wickler.

  Sidecar Bob's wheelchair crunched over the discarded plastic cups and empty beer cans littering the ground. "You got some distance on that last one." He shook his head. "They'll just have to remember, no matter how bad it looks, you are the fated slayer." He tugged on his gray goatee for a moment. "You are the slayer, right?"

  "So they say," I told him. "You should have been there this afternoon." If that hadn't proved I was up to the job, nothing would. I'd shown I could live through a death spell. Of course in the last half hour, I'd also managed to decapitate the Shoney's Big Boy. No get­ting around it. Those switch stars were unpredictable. According to legend, I was supposed to be a natural at this. My Great-great, (however many Greats) Aunt Evie had practically popped out of the womb throwing switch stars.

  I blew out a breath. Focus.

  Dimitri pulled me aside, taking me several yards into the target range. He stood close, his face earnest. "Okay, tell me what you were thinking on that one."

  No doubt, he expected a pithy answer. Well, I was too frustrated to wax poetic.

  "Lizzie," he said intently, rubbing his palms up and down my arms, as if he could draw it out of me. "Reach deep down. You're hiding."

  He didn't know the half of it.

  Dimitri wrapped a finger around a section of my hair, half-mashed to my head from my exertions this after­noon. He rubbed it between his fingers like it, I, was something special. "You can do it, Lizzie. You just need to let go. Sacrifice yourself."

  Despite myself, I felt his touch wind through my body.

  I nodded. I had to get this by tomorrow night. We had to do the job for the werewolves in less than twenty-four hours. Please let me be ready.

  Grandma was suffering, and it was my fault. If I'd done their ceremony right and let the witches bind them­selves to me and my out-of-control powers, they might have felt Vald creeping up on them. I don't know how much help I would have been against a fifth-level de­mon, but they would have had a better shot of getting out of there. As it stood, three witches had been killed and—I shuddered to think—drained of their souls. Grandma could be next. I had to figure this out.

  Dimitri, despite his deliciousness, had refused to tell me what else he'd found back at the Red Skull. Or, for that matter, why he'd been so prepared to swoop in and save me from Vald. I pulled another switch star from the hanging plant hook I'd jammed onto my scarf-belt. The switch star's blades radiated and spun. I clutched my fingers until I felt them dig into the metal holes. I drew back, fired. The star flashed through the air and dropped to the ground like a dead weight. It sprayed a shower of dirt and grass about ten feet in front of me.

  I held my breath as a wave of dust blew over us. In the moment's calm, I distinctly heard one werewolf say to another, "I think she's getting worse." I would have been insulted if I hadn't feared they were right.

  Let go. Sacrifice yourself.

  I didn't know how.

  "Again," Dimitri said.

  I nodded, and reached for another star.

  Scarlet climbed out of the Dumpster after another session with Grandma. Behind her, the sun cast purple shad­ows over the horizon. Her red hair stuck together, stringy and greasy. Her T-shirt, wet with sweat, clung to her curves and hitched under her bra straps. And, phew, she no doubt smelled like the Deluxe Sanitation Master she'd been calling home lately.

  I'd hidden behind a moldy refrigerator, the largest piece of junk I could find among the discarded tires and sinks and other debris crowding the grounds. Scar­let had been channeling the first layer of hell for a good chunk of the day. The witches had been tight-lipped about what she'd discovered. With Ant Eater in charge, I was firmly out of the loop.

  I watched Scarlet walk inside the Shoney's and meet Frieda at one of the back booths, within view of the Dumpster. Blast it. I stretched my cramped legs as far as I could without standing up. The witches' chicken fingers baskets arrived right away. Frieda must have or­dered early.

  This was it. I'd have to make do with the time I had.

  Back at the Red Skull, I'd never made it into the Yard-saver to confess to Grandma that I didn't take the potion. Now, I had even bigger problems and no Grandma. I was dying to know what Scarlet had been doing in there. Not that I expected to conjure up whatever these witches did in the Cave of Visions. But if there was a tiny bit of my grandma in there . . .

  I clambered up on a stack of wooden produce flats and slipped inside the rotting Dumpster. If I thought the acrid smell of garbage burned my nose from the outside—jiminey Christmas—try standing on the stuff. I cringed as I sank down to my ankles in the remains of this morning's Rootin' Tootin' Breakfast Buffet. The back of my mouth watered. Don't heave. I didn't know how Scarlet did it.

  A cockroach landed on my shoulder. "Off! Off! Off!" I leapt and flung it away. The thing shot to the other side of the Dumpster. I hoped.

  However bad it was in here, it had to be a million times worse for Grandma.

  I swallowed hard. "Grandma?" I focused on her ten-ton diesel voice, the way she cocked a grin. "I don't know if I had to come in here to tell you this, but, well, I'm here now." The garbage shifted under me, and I had to adjust my stance.

  "I want to let you know I'm working on things, get­ting better." I rubbed my arms. I felt so alone. "I miss you like crazy." I paused as tears welled behind my eyes. "Then again, I'll bet your butt is nothing like Dimitri's when he throws a switch star." I smiled and let the tears fall. "Even so, I would have really liked to have you as my teacher."

  I scanned the darkness for something, anything to show she heard me. "I'm doing pretty well with the Truths. They sure helped me pitch Ant Eater on her rear this afternoon." I couldn't help but smile. "Thought you'd enjoy hearing that." I sighed. "But the whole idea of sacrifice is so hard for me. Sacrifice myself. I don't know. I like myself. I don't want to change. Maybe I don't know how." I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. "But I'm working on it. I am."

  Muffled voices sounded outside the Dumpster. No, I needed more time. "Grandma, while I'm here, I need to tell you something else."

  Why did this have to be so hard?

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I thought you were crazy when you showed up at my house. I'm sorry I made you drag Pi
rate into this. I'm sorry I got grossed out by the raccoon liver and the animal pelts, and I'm sorry I didn't drink the protection potion you worked so hard to give me. I should have told you. I tried to tell you. But when that didn't happen, I should have told somebody else. If I hadn't messed things up, you might still be here instead of—" I couldn't even say it. I didn't want to think about Grandma being taken by Vald. She must have been so scared.

  "I'll bet you tried to kick him in the balls." My voice hitched with tears. "You probably got him a few times. Knowing you." I wiped at my face. "Well hang in there. I'm coming." I laughed despite myself, and self­consciously smoothed my hair behind my ears. My fingers touched the edges of the bronze helmet. "I'm sorry I let Dimitri do this to me. It's, he's... compli­cated." The emerald glowed warm against my fingers. "Still, you might end up liking him. I do. I just wish I knew what he wants out of all this." I couldn't shake the idea that he might not have my best interests at heart.

  "But don't you worry about that. You be strong. You fight. I'll come for you soon." Or die trying.

  I'd promised her I could do this. I launched another switch star into the dirt. I squinted my eyes closed as the cool night breeze blew back a wave of dust. Hells bells. For the last five hours, I'd blamed the were­wolves and their loud partying for my lack of aim. At three a.m., they'd finally settled down and I'd run out of excuses.

  A pair of boots crunched behind me, and I could sense a trace of sandalwood in the air. Dimitri.

  Keep your distance.

  Repeat as necessary.

  And uncurl those toes immediately.

  It had become my personal mantra, except for the toe-curling part. That was simply an annoying side effect—one I'd conquer soon enough. I stared out at the trees at the edge of the practice field, willing my­self to stay strong until I could look at Dimitri without wanting to wrap myself around him like Pirate on a pork chop.

  "What are the Three Truths?" he asked, smooth as silk on naked skin.

  I gritted my teeth. "Look to the outside. Accept the universe. Sacrifice yourself." I threw another switch star. This one skipped over the field in front of us like a flat stone on a pond.

  He moved in close behind me. "Focus, Lizzie. Lives depend on this."

  Like I didn't know that. "Thanks for the pressure."

  I could feel him like a solid wall behind me. Sexy, powerful and completely not helping. He snorted. "You don't understand the Three Truths or you'd have re­leased more of your powers."

  I knew that. I knew all of it. Except how to put ev­erything together. And here he was trying to tear down my walls when I needed everything I had just to keep myself together.

  "Look, hot stuff," I said, turning to look him straight in the eye. Darn it. He did look concerned. If anything, though, it made me even more frustrated. "I'm doing the best I can. And I think it's darned good considering last week I had a home, a job and a bunch of friends waiting to celebrate my thirtieth birthday. Now I'm supposed to automatically understand three mysterious Truths while doing a hit job for a bunch of werewolves before my grandma gets slaughtered by a demon."

  The lines around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Hot stuff?"

  Oh no. We did not want to explore that right now.

  I planted my hands on my hips. "How are you help­ing me?"

  He flashed a crooked smile. "I tossed you in with Ant Eater."

  I gaped at him. He left me alone with that psycho on purpose? I couldn't believe it. "Then as protectors go, you stink." Damn the man. "And stop grinning at me."

  "You looked outside yourself," he pointed out.

  At the risk of life, limb and dog.

  He took me by the shoulders and I felt everything, down to the night breeze on my cheeks and his warm fingers through my lumpy dress sleeves. The raw, al­most exposed part of me wanted to cover up and run for the hills. The part of me that wanted to jump his bones turned a few cartwheels. So much for my iron control.

  He drew me closer. "I'm willing to bet you reached for the death spell only when you looked to the out­side. You stopped worrying about yourself and focused on the problem."

  Easy for him to say. "I almost killed Pirate and Ant Eater."

  "You wouldn't let that happen," he said, his lips inches from mine.

  Oh lordy. Why was I getting turned on during a discussion of my particularly horrible afternoon?

  "You accepted the universe." He brushed his lips against my forehead until my toes curled like the traitors they were. "You did," he insisted heartily. "Nothing happens by chance. The tools and the people to aid you will appear. You found what you needed this afternoon. And I am the person you need. You found me on the road," he said, eyes twinkling.

  That was a nice way of putting it.

  "Accept help, Lizzie," he said, too earnest to resist. "You need to be open to the universe if you expect to rescue your grandma. And you'll definitely need it if you want to defeat Vald."

  Fear tickled my stomach. "I don't know if I can do it."

  His eyes searched mine. "You have to kill him, Lizzie." It felt like he was on the verge of saying more when he abruptly let me go.

  Dimitri shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair. "You can do it when you sacrifice yourself. Look be­yond what you think you know," he said earnestly. "I've seen you, Lizzie. You've spent your whole life burying your instincts. Step back from that. Search for who you really are. Trust yourself."

  "Okay," I nodded. Trust myself. I bent over and stretched my hands to my toes, wrapping my fingers around the ends of my second-hand cleats. He might as well have told me to fly.

  "Take this," he said.

  I straightened and found him holding a blue Gap bag out for me. "This is from the universe."

  Inside, I found khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. "Dimitri!" I couldn't believe it. "This is perfect."

  It truly was. I pulled the pants and shirt from the bag, holding them up one at a time. They were just like the ones I'd ruined. And he even got the sizes right. It didn't surprise me that Dimitri had taken in every de­tail of my former self. It was uncanny at times how precise he could be. But never in a million years would I have expected this.

  "Thanks," I whispered.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, clearly unsure what to make of my reaction.

  I nodded, afraid I'd tear up if I said more. I didn't know what to say. No one had ever done anything like that for me before. Growing up, when Cliff and Hilary had bought me gifts, they gave me what they liked, not what I liked.

  Even for my thirtieth birthday, I planned the dinner, maybe a little afraid someone wouldn't. And I speci­fied no gifts. I didn't want to expect them.

  "I'm almost afraid to tell you, but there are shoes in there too." He eyed me uncomfortably. "Those oxfords you like. Size eight." It had to be the closest Dimitri would ever come to rambling.

  My head stopped up and my giggle came out more like a snarf.

  "Are you okay?" Dimitri frowned. The man would run headlong into a demon-infested biker bar, but he seemed terrified I'd break down in tears. So much for wanting me to get in touch with my feelings.

  Screw it.

  I pulled him down and kissed him thoroughly. Yeah, it was probably a mistake. That was the last rational thought I had for awhile as he devoured my mouth, to my complete and utter delight. His fingers traced my shoulders, trailed down my spine, up my sides, all the way ... oh my.

  Embarrassed, I pulled away. I could feel my face burn­ing. It grew even redder when I saw the intense, exu­berant expression on his face. "This doesn't mean anything," I told him.

  "Of course not," he replied blithely.

  So much for my iron control.

  He pulled me into the crook of his arm and gave a squeeze. "Anything to make you happy."

  "You did," I said, enjoying the feel of him. Let him have his fun. No one had ever done anything like this for me.

  I knew whatever was going on with Dimitri and I couldn't be permanent. On
ce I learned to control my powers and rescued Grandma, I'd go back to teaching at Happy Hands. He'd race off to live his exotic Greek demon slayer trainer life. I snuggled closer, taking in his rich sandalwood scent, knowing I didn't need to tease myself with any possibilities. But I could wish.

  Back at the trailer, I grabbed a quick shower and changed into my new clothes. They felt right. I wondered if Dimitri knew how much he'd given me.

  Pirate padded into the front room where I sat on the edge of the brown couch, tying my shoes. He'd been sleeping. "You coming to bed?" he asked, ending the question with a humongous doggy yawn.

  I tugged on the laces. "Too much on my mind."

  Pirate nudged my leg with his nose. "You want to talk about it? You know how I like talking about things with you."

  I sighed. "Sorry, guy." I needed to learn how to sac­rifice myself and while I had no idea where to start, I knew it wasn't here. Pirate was the least introspective creature on the planet.

  "Oh, I see. It's important enough to keep you out all night with Dimitri, but as soon as I want to talk, it's 'never mind.'"

  I sunk back into the couch, trying to ignore him.

  Dog tags jingled at my feet. "You know what your problem is? You never let anybody help you."

  "You're a dog!"

  "Now that hurt. Fine. If you want to think about your problems all by yourself, then you do that. I know when I'm not wanted." He turned to walk back into the bedroom.

  "Pirate ..." I said, looking away, trying to think of a way to reason with a twelve-pound terrier.

  He spun back around. "What? You want to talk? Let's talk."

  "No." I caught a faint glow outside. I heaved myself off the couch and pressed my nose to the window. "Stay right here."

  Light poured from the Dumpster. Scarlet must be channeling something big. I banged out through the screened door and jogged across the field. The hulking remains of refrigerators, washing machines and cars cast dark shadows over the ground.

  Grandma staggered out from behind the Dumpster and my heart stopped. Whole sections of her long gray hair hung in shreds. Blood clotted her head. Her arms twisted at painful and unnatural angles.