Angie Fox -The Accidental Demon Slayer

by The Accidental Demon Slayer (lit)

  Was it really her?

  I approached slowly. The scent of garbage and—was that a tang of ozone?—grew stronger. Sidecar Bob had said it himself—a demon can take on many forms.

  The figure perked up when she saw me. Grandma?

  "Shit, Lizzie. This isn't the goddamned Easter pa­rade. Get over here!"

  I wanted to skip. It was her! My mind reeled. "Oh my word. Grandma!" Her back hunched at an odd an­gle and she looked ready to collapse at any moment. "You look terrible!"

  "Thanks for reminding me," she huffed. "No. Don't touch me," she said as I came close. "I'm on borrowed power. It'd be like jamming your finger in a light switch." She struggled to stand as straight as she could. "Now, when are you going to stop throwing switch stars at the dirt and get me the hell out of here?"

  My throat had all but closed up. I swallowed. "I'm trying, but I'm not there yet." My excuse sounded lame, even to me. "I'm so close. I know I have the power. I just can't seem to find it."

  She rolled her eyes. "You know what your problem is?" She threw her arms out like an Italian grandmother. "You're so busy worrying, you're not doing. You're going through the motions. And frightening a lot of people from the sounds of it." So she'd heard about Ant Eater. "Your mind is too crowded, 'I didn't take the potion. I don't want to feel all exposed and girly in front of Dimitri. Ant Eater is a big bully.'"

  "What?" I couldn't believe it. "How did you know about the potion?"

  "You told me."

  No, I didn't. I never had a chance to tell her.

  "Shut your mouth, Lizzie. You're catching flies." She eyed me, hands on her hips. "Did you come to the Cave of Visions to keep a secret? Honestly, Lizzie, some­times I don't understand you at all."

  She'd heard me in the Dumpster. She'd actually heard me!

  "And what the hell is with that emerald skullcap? You look like a rapper."

  My hand flew to my head. "It's Dimitri's. I gave him power over me. I had to do it."

  "I don't like the sound of that. You have enough go­ing on in your life right now, and you don't need to be wasting time with a man who doesn't know how to stay in one place."

  I blinked once, twice. "Are you lecturing me?" At a time like this?

  "What? You don't think you need it?" She huffed and tossed the remnants of her long gray hair over her shoul­ders. "It's like when Frieda gave herself seven fingers on each hand. The whole time Ant Eater brewed the Erasure herbs, I made Frieda talk to me about that man of hers. Kept her mind off it. I told her she'd better take the chance and yap away because that was the one and only time I wanted to hear about Eddie's smelly socks."

  I'd bet anything Dimitri had his socks dry cleaned. But, okay, if she wanted to know, "We started off bumpy, but I really like Dimitri." More than I wanted to admit. "He's driven and determined," I told her. That sounded better than mysterious and studly. "He wants to help me." And take care of me. It was a new feeling for me and I didn't quite know what to make of it.

  Grandma's image flickered. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad we have him on our side. Just be care­ful. And watch the werewolves too. The mean one's about to make a power play and our coven is a perfect excuse to cause trouble. Even if you get out of here be­fore it all goes down, those wolves will get their pound of flesh. They don't do anything without getting double back."

  Yikes. Maybe she could tell me what to do. "Ant Eater wants me to get rid of black souls for them. What are they?"

  "Suicide for most of us. Training for you. If you decide to do it, bring Dimitri. You might just learn some­thing." Her image flickered again. This time she yelped in pain and held her side as an invisible energy seared through her.

  "Grandma!" It took everything I had not to touch her.

  She clutched her abdomen. "Because, Lizzie, I don't want you to come after me if you don't think you can do it. I'm an old cuss. I've had my time. Don't let Vald take you, you hear?"

  "No. I have to get you. I mean, look at your hands." Large holes sliced through her palms, as if an invisible blade cut her open right before my eyes.

  "Oh yeah. Let's talk about how much my life sucks right now. Why can't you stay on track?"

  Unbelievable.

  I fought to look her in the face. Her skin had taken on an unearthly pallor and the wounds in her head began to bleed fresh. I had to get her out of there. "Tell me how to sacrifice myself. Just tell me, and I'll do it right now."

  She shook her head. "You have to figure it out yourself. But dammit, Lizzie. Think about it." An invisible blade sliced her neck. Blood flowed freely from the bubbling wound. "Shit," she gurgled. "You weren't supposed to see this."

  Grandma clapped a hand over her neck. "If you cry, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. Now think about it. What does it mean to sacrifice yourself? Who are you really?"

  I started to reply.

  "Hup! I'll tell you who you are, Lizzie. You're a brilliant little snit who types out her grocery list on the computer, never had a library late fee and won't take a dump without planning it on your calendar. I'm will­ing to bet Pirate was the only half-ass thing you had to deal with before I showed up at your door."

  "I'm not—"

  She threw a hand up. "The night we met, you had timed directions to a restaurant you said yourself you'd already been to!"

  As if I'd wanted to be late to my birthday party. "I'm organized."

  "You're wound tighter than a gnat's ass! Let go! Trust your instincts. Stop thinking of every negative thing that could happen five miles down the road."

  Well shoot. I didn't know what to think. It felt safe to know exactly how my life would turn out. That's why I planned everything so precisely. And why I'd stayed in my job for so long. And I didn't date unpredictable men.

  I'd worked my whole life to be normal, accepted. Now Grandma wanted me to blow the whole thing out of the water. Slowly it began to come together. "That's what Dimitri meant when he said to sacrifice myself," I said for my own benefit, as much as hers.

  "Exactly." She made a show of swooning. Oh geez. I hoped it was a show.

  Grandma popped back up, a little more spry than I would have expected. Her energy surged and her wounds disappeared. She almost looked like herself again.

  Sacrifice myself. Okay. I could let go. A week ago, the mere thought would have given me hives. Now I felt giddy. I could do this. "Dimitri wants me to let go of myself." I couldn't help smiling. "I don't know why I didn't see it before, Grandma. Dimitri said as much to me. But then again, since when do men make any sense, right?"

  "Oh yeah, I'm in hell and now you're grinning and making jokes." She waggled a finger, only half kid­ding. "Now do what you have to do to get me out of here. Besides," she added, "we've got some catching up to do. We missed out on a lot of years."

  I planted my back against the outside of the Dump-ster. The night sky shone rich with stars. "I'm sorry it took me so long, Grandma."

  "Zip it. If there's one thing I can't stand it's whining. Besides, I heard it all in the Cave of Visions. You're forgiven. Unless you keep apologizing. Then I'm going to be pissed all over again."

  I nodded. "Can you at least tell me why?" I asked her. "Why did Vald come after me that night? You must have known something could happen, or you wouldn't have tried to protect me. What does this thing want from me?"

  She huffed so hard her nostrils flared. "Well, cup­cake, it's like this. You probably keep hearing about your Great-great, Great—whatever—Aunt Evie. Lord knows I have. Aunt Evie locked Vald away in the second layer of hell. Aunt Evie was the most powerful slayer in the last thousand years. Aunt Evie made the world's best potato salad. But what you won't hear is that Aunt Evie had nothing on you. She never learned how to seize a demon's vox like you did that day in your bathroom."

  "You mean the green light thingies?"

  "If you want to call them that, then yeah. She had the power to lock Vald away." Grandma brought up a finger. "You have the power to destroy him. Capiche?"


  I nodded. Destroy Vald. Yow.

  "He's unhatching a particularly nasty plan, worse than anything I'm going to face down here, I'll tell you that. We're not sure what he's up to, but you play a big part. Now I think—aw, shit." Her image flickered.

  "What?" Are you in pain?" I couldn't stand to see

  her like this. .

  "Thanks for reminding me, but it's not that." She stared over my shoulder.

  Voices called from the field behind me. I turned. Ant Eater headed our way, trailed by at least a half a dozen werewolves.

  "Tell them to stay the hell away from me," Grandma ordered. "I can't keep my energy with this many auras cluttering the air. Dammit! This is important."

  "Stay back!" I called to the mob, waving my hands in the air.

  "Lizzie, pay attention!" she demanded, as Ant Eater and the wolves surged forward. Grandma's image flick­ered and she let off a load of cuss words that would have made my adopted mother reach for her rosary.

  She spoke quickly. "Vald wants you. He wants your power. In my vision, I saw the best time to strike. You have to—flisbit." She faded out, then flickered in again. "You have to prepare. Let go of yourself. Look to the outside. Accept the universe. Sacrifice yourself. And remember—"

  Ant Eater stormed up in a rage. "Get your ass over here right now."

  "What about Grandma?" I hollered. "Wait! Grandma! When is the best time to strike?" I demanded as her image crackled one last time and disappeared.

  Ant Eater planted her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  She couldn't see her. None of them could, I realized.

  Ant Eater seized my shoulder and forced me to face her. "We need you now. Rex made his move. The wolves have got the whole goddamned coven backed into a corner. Time to earn your keep." She cocked her gun.

  "Okay," I said. I didn't even bother to question my new role. I knew it had changed this afternoon. Here was the test. Deep down, I ached to spend a few more minutes with Grandma, but she would have been the first person to tell me I needed to let it go. Our conver­sation was now in the past. I had to look to the future. And for once, I was ready.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I followed Ant Eater to a rusty trailer near the woods. Werewolves jammed the entrance.

  Rex stood at the door, a rifle slung over his shoulder. "Your asses are mine," he told us, way too pleased with himself.

  "Stuff it." Grandma needed me. We didn't have time to get sucked into werewolf politics.

  "Well that was brave," Ant Eater commented. "Stu­pid. But brave."

  We pushed our way into the mishmash, the air hot with bodies and alive with voices. I found myself face-to-chest with most of the werewolves. Danger rolled off them in palpable waves. Every step we took, they jos­tled us back, as if they couldn't wait to take it further.

  Dimitri's emerald hummed, which wasn't the best sign. The bronze metal of my helmet snaked down and wound around my neck. At least it earned me a little re­spect. The werewolves parted like I was tossing fire­crackers. The ones nearest to me caught their breath and muttered their surprise. Something told me these men, these creatures, didn't gasp like girls every day. I drew my hand up, instinctively.

  A rough-looking fellow with a nose ring winced as the metal around my neck churned and pulsed, like a liquid noose. You got it, buddy.

  The metal locked into place and cooled to the touch. It felt like a metal collar, the kind gladiators wore to the arena. Please don't let me be a gladiator, I thought as the emerald bounced against the front of my throat.

  "Nice trick." Fang stood in the center of the room, his Mr. T mohawk unmistakable. I stepped forward before Ant Eater could shove me, which no doubt she would have enjoyed, if only because it took the edge off. I could hear her behind me; rap, tap, tapping her nails against a stack of what had to be six or seven cases of Jack.

  "Cut it out," I told her. We needed to show strength right now. The Red Skull witches were safe (relatively) and alive (for now) thanks to the good graces of these werewolves. Sure, Rex had been gunning for us from the start, but for the most part, the werewolves had earned our respect, if not our trust. They'd stuck their necks out and taken us in after Vald demolished the Red Skull. From his stance in the middle of the room, it was clear Fang still held power. And now he needed to dis­cuss something. Well, fine. But we didn't need to look nervous about it.

  No need to borrow trouble.

  The Red Skulls stood behind Fang, cut off from the werewolves and from any means of escape. I caught a glimpse of Frieda near the kitchenette. Sidecar Bob was nowhere in sight—probably pushed to the back of the crowd. Not a bad place to be right now, I mused, as Rex glared a hole through me. I wondered what we did to warrant this showdown. Fang had what he wanted— my promise to get rid of the black souls. Maybe that wasn't enough anymore. Heaven help us.

  "Bring the wolf forward," Fang commanded. The werewolves behind me hollered a litany of curses.

  Just my luck. We'd ticked them off.

  Nose Ring brushed past me, carrying a young woman. She couldn't have been more than eighteen. The girl's wide frame and sleek muscles sagged. Her long, dark hair was tangled in knots. He placed her in front of Fang. She floundered pitifully as she tried to stand.

  If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was drunk. She pitched sideways. Oh my word, she was go­ing over. "Grab her!" I rushed for her and managed to catch her under the armpits.

  The rest of her body fell to the floor hard, taking me with it. I whacked my tailbone, but managed to keep her head from hitting the floor. Her eyes rolled back and she gurgled. "Are you all right?" My butt throbbed. She had to be hurting too. "What's your name?" I tried to pull her into a sitting position. She didn't seem to notice. Her breathing was labored and shallow.

  "Hold on," I told her. "Excuse me, folks." I looked up to the three dozen or so people who could have shown a little concern. "Can we get a little help here?"

  Fang stood over us, scowling. "Fine time to worry about her now, demon slayer."

  Oh, let's not be catty. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Who cast this spell?" he thundered, speaking to me but clearly making this a group discussion. "Was it you, demon slayer? Or the devil witches?"

  "Try neither." I hoped.

  Don't piss off the werewolf, Lizzie.

  He grew angrier by the second, and it didn't help that he had about twenty friends ready and quite eager to tear us apart.

  In an instant, he seized me by the throat and lifted me off the floor. I fought a wave of panic and clutched at his hands as my feet kicked at nothing but air. Unbe­lievable. The man could have strangled me with one large, meaty hand. Except he gripped the bronze choker at my throat. I smothered a yelp. Score one for Dimitri and his emerald.

  The crowd hushed as Fang drew his face inches from mine. "Your witches say they don't understand what's wrong with my daughter." He jerked me back and forth until my teeth rattled, as if he could shake the answer out of me. "Why, demon slayer? Why is this happen­ing to our women and children? They can't move. They can't speak. They're the walking dead." I could see the fear in his eyes. Despite his bravado, he cared about these people. "Tell me what you did to them."

  "I swear I don't know what happened," I whispered, dizzy from the onslaught. I looked past him to the wit­ches. They huddled at the far end of the trailer, stripped of their roadkill magic. Frieda shook her head, sad, confused. Afraid. The werewolves had the Red Skulls backed into a corner. Literally. It wouldn't take much for the night to erupt into violence, and none of us had any illusions of victory.

  Fang dropped me roughly to my feet, and I pre­tended it didn't scare the bejesus out of me. Just like that, the game had changed.

  "How many women and children have been affected?" I asked him.

  "Nine total. Six in the last hour alone."

  Holy moley.

  "This is an insult," he declared, as if the girl were nothing more than a rug on the fl
oor.

  I didn't know how or why the witches could possibly be involved. The Red Skulls wouldn't attack innocent people. Besides, we needed the wolves.

  Ant Eater cleared her throat. Thank goodness. As Grandma's second-in-command, she had to talk some sense into these animals. "Fuck you," she said.

  So much for diplomacy.

  Rex's lips curved into snarl. "I told you it was a bad decision to take in the witches. Look at what they've done to our pups. We can't trust them, we can't trust their magic, and their demon slayer can't even throw a rock and hit something with it. How is such a gamma supposed to get rid of the black souls? Fang is feeble and weak to trust them."

  Andrea curled behind Rex and planted a sloppy kiss on his neck. Oh ick. Now was not the time. "The witches need to pay," she said.

  "We have paid," Ant Eater said, clearly annoyed. "None of you poseurs can axe a black soul. Lizzie made two disappear this afternoon."

  I did? Did that mean those dark clouds hovering over Pirate and Ant Eater had been black souls? Phew. Clueless could be a perk sometimes.

  Rex looked as surprised as I felt.

  Ant Eater took full advantage. "Oh, that's right, you didn't see that because she did it while waltzing through a death spell that would have killed any one of you. So shut the fuck up and leave us alone. We'll honor our end of the deal."

  The crowd murmured.

  She scanned the multitude of faces, hands on her hips. "And another thing. We're not the reason your wolves are sick."

  "Bullshit," hollered a wolf in the back.

  "Oh yeah?" Ant Eater countered. "Get up here and I'll show you a spell that'll rot your balls off!"

  Voices erupted into chaos. Rex slammed his rifle butt down on the dirty linoleum until he had every­one's attention again. "I say we kill them all," Rex said, with obvious pleasure. "The Red Skulls have broken their contract. And now their leader mocks us."

  Way to go, Ant Eater.

  "They promised," he said, gesturing with the rifle like a TV evangelist. "They promised they would not cast mortal magic without provocation. She said it her­self: the slayer cast a death spell. We can't trust them. We have to kill them before they do any more damage."