A Tale of Two Demon Slayers

by Angie Fox

  “You’d be surprised.” I couldn’t even hold on to my own switch stars.

  “You succeeded in rescuing your grandmother from the second layer of hell. You ended a centuries-old curse on the Kallinikos family. You performed an exorcism on a werewolf. You defeated an army of succubi.” He counted on his fingers. “From what I’ve heard you’re also the only one to set Max the demon hunter on his ear.”

  I grinned, and he did too.

  “Truth be told, I would have liked to see that,” he admitted.

  I couldn’t help but brighten. I had done quite a lot, especially when I’d been forced to head out on a wing and a prayer. “When you say it, it sounds so different. Most of the time, I don’t feel like I accomplish much.”

  “Why does it matter how you feel?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have an answer. I’d never thought of it that way.

  “It matters who you are. I left a pressing job in purgatory because you are important. You don’t even understand yet how vital your work is going to be to this world and everyone in it.”

  I drew back. “What are you talking about?”

  “You cannot achieve greatness by playing it safe. Nor does it come without sacrifice.”

  “I’m not great.” Most days, I struggled just to be good. When it came to sacrifice, I wanted to wince.

  You’d think after years of reining myself in, sacrifice would be easier. It wasn’t. Then again, I was beginning to realize there were events—and people—more important than me.

  What would I give up to keep Dimitri happy and safe?

  Would I be willing to let down those who depended on me? Would I say enough is enough, when it comes to duty? Could I have actually given up on Las Vegas a few weeks ago when Dimitri wanted to go back to Greece?

  With a heavy heart, I realized I didn’t dare, not when lives and souls were at stake. I may not be the best demon slayer who ever lived, but I could and would make a difference.

  “The choice is always yours, of course,” he mused. “But sometimes we must think of the greater good. Let go of our own petty wants and needs. You are being called to greatness, Lizzie. Whether you chose it or not, it is up to you to decide what to do with your gift.”

  “Do you even realize what you’re saying?” I asked. I was not a kick-butt heroine. I didn’t dash into the fray, daring the demons to come and get me. I didn’t have witty comebacks for the people in my life. So far, I hadn’t even learned how to cuss. I was just a preschool teacher doing the best she could with the vat of cosmic spaghetti fate had dumped over her head.

  I sat down on the grass. “I think we’re in trouble.”

  “Doubt is natural, Lizzie. It is a way to grow.”

  Problem was, I didn’t like where my thoughts were leading. If I was supposed to be some amazing demon slayer, I didn’t see it. And worse, I didn’t know how the rest of my life was supposed to fit.

  How could I keep expecting those who loved me to risk their lives for mine?

  Why did they have to give up their wants and needs for me?

  The Red Skulls had traveled halfway around the globe on a boat, just so they could be here when I trained. Dimitri had let me into his life and family, only to have his home and all the precious things he fought so hard for trashed, for me.

  At least the Red Skulls were used to being on the run. Dimitri didn’t want that. It was unfair and I knew it.

  How could I love him and not put him first?

  Rachmort was right. I did have to think. Because so far, I’d only been considering myself. I wanted Dimitri. I wanted him with me in Las Vegas, while his family needed him here. Now I wanted him to follow me around the world, fighting other people’s battles, when I could tell he wanted to settle down here, on this estate, with the family he’d fought so hard to protect.

  I drew a ragged breath as the truth stung me like acid.

  He’d sacrificed so much for me. Maybe it was time I did the same for him.

  If I was going to be a powerful demon slayer, someone who could protect innocent people from the scourge of hell, I had only one choice.

  My heart squeezed. My life would destroy any hope he had of rebuilding his.

  Perhaps it was time to let Dimitri go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Now I really did want to be alone. I set off down the path where I’d lost my switch star. Maybe an answer would hit me somewhere along the trail. Maybe I could find a way to have a normal life, at least one with Dimitri.

  Maybe I’d just keep walking.

  The kicker was, I’d wanted this knowledge.

  My right hand rested against the remaining switch stars on my belt. Fallen leaves crackled under my boots.

  From the very beginning, when I’d first learned I was a demon slayer, I wanted to know what it meant. Information, to me, is king. It’s the ultimate form of control. If you know what you’re doing, you don’t mess up.

  Now it seemed like the more I learned about myself, and especially this journey I’d begun, the more I wished I’d left things alone.

  I ducked around a low-hanging tree branch, its large thick leaves fanning in every direction.

  I’d always been one to help other people. I liked taking care of the kids at Happy Hands. I liked being the planner among my small group of friends back home. I liked taking care of Pirate. But this insistence Rachmort had about me being the one to save them felt like too much. It was more responsibility than I could have ever imagined.

  And as odd as it sounded, I wished someone would have at least asked.

  I walked until I reached the clearing at the Callidora. The tips of my boots stopped on the packed-earth path right in front of a tangle of weeds pouring from the clearing.

  Get a grip. It’s only strewn rocks in a clearing.

  If I’d been more of a demon slayer, or at least a kick-butt heroine, I’d have barged ahead, consequences be damned.

  But I was too practical. And I didn’t even like to think of the word damned.

  She will be lost at the Callidora, the first time in joy, the second time in death.

  I couldn’t do it. You just don’t risk that kind of prophecy. At least I don’t.

  I turned to head back, when I heard something rattling in the foliage on the other side. I crouched behind the nearest tree, my left shoulder against the rough bark, my right hand holding a switch star.

  A moment later, Pirate burst out of the clearing ahead, followed by a significantly larger dragon. The beast flew behind Pirate on paper-thin wings. It had grown from the size of a small dog to Great Dane proportions and it wore the dancing-doggies-and-fire-hydrants adjustable collar and retractable leash Pirate had selected the last time we were at Petco.

  Pirate dropped the end of the leash and jammed his nose into the air. “Hold up, Flappy. I smell trouble.”

  The dragon let out a squeak and crouched behind Pirate.

  “Oh now that’s ridiculous,” I said, standing.

  “Lizzie!” Pirate exclaimed dashing straight for me. “I thought I smelled you! At first I thought it was wishful thinking, but it is you!” he said, leaping over tufts of grass.

  I saw the moment where surprise and joy gave way to the realization that I’d seen Flappy.

  His ears lowered slightly and he lost a bit of steam. “Now I know what you’re thinking,” he said, as if doggie diplomatic skills were going to get him out of this one.

  “I’m thinking you still have a dragon,” I said, eyeing the fire-breathing ugly duckling as it fluttered clumsily after my dog.

  “Now that is true,” Pirate said, spinning twice before launching himself at my leg. “But look at him. He needs me!”

  I scooped up my dog and we both watched the doe-eyed dragon flounder across the clearing. His mottled body was far too big for his head—and his wings. Flappy dipped up and down like a baby bird, with the leash trailing behind him. I felt the insane urge to go out there and retrieve him, which was (a) ridiculous and (b) i
mpossible, since the dragon probably weighed as much as I did.

  “Why the leash?” I asked, hitching Pirate under my arm. I could tell he’d been finding many things to eat other than his Healthy Lite dog chow.

  “Flappy’s a pet. And that is my best leash.”

  Yes, but this was a dragon. It was unnatural. “Don’t you think it’s a little cruel?”

  Pirate looked up at me in that guileless way that only dogs can manage. “You put me on a leash.”

  “Good point,” I conceded. Still, the dragon had barely made it through half of the clearing. If we were in the middle of an imp attack, the poor thing would be ashes on the ground. Which was another reason we couldn’t keep the animal.

  As if I’d wished it on us, I could feel something lurking nearby. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Pirate,” I said.

  “Ouch. That’s too tight,” he said, struggling against my grip.

  We needed to get Flappy.

  Frickin’ dragon.

  But I wasn’t about to walk out into that clearing.

  “Flappy!” I hissed, taking cover behind the tree with Pirate.

  “He don’t speak English,” Pirate said struggling against my grip. “In fact, I can’t talk to him at all. Which is weird. Let me go and I’ll get him lickety split.”

  “Hush,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t tell where the danger was coming from, only that it was growing stronger by the second. The baby dragon’s eyes widened as he fluttered its wings harder. Pirate’s entire body was stiff with the need to run out there and get his pet. I knew the feeling, which is why I held him tight.

  The threat was coming from low on the ground. Behind us!

  I swiveled around the tree until we faced the woods. “You two stay down,” I said as Flappy finally made it to the safety of the trees. The pets had a reunion as I stood slowly. I never did like throwing from a crouched position.

  It was like a dot in my mind.

  You want me? Well come and get me.

  I moved from tree to tree, stalking it. I refused to be afraid anymore.

  Then it hit me—I really could control my powers if I wanted. I chose to hunt instead of be hunted, and now I was suddenly tracking my attacker. It was a heady feeling.

  Don’t get cocky.

  Rachmort’s gold cord caught against my utility belt and I ripped the thing off and left it on the ground. My heart sped up as I caught a glimpse of my stalker rushing through the trees. It was a dark-haired woman, like the one I’d seen when I found Diana’s Skye stone.

  I sensed her now.

  She wasn’t getting away this time.

  I tracked her malice and her anger. I fed on her hate as I dogged her through the dense woods. Sweat trickled down my back as I crashed through the underbrush, my breath coming hard as we dodged and weaved.

  She was mine.

  Mine.

  Maybe Dimitri was right. I could take control of my own destiny.

  She wasn’t just angry—she was jealous. The dot of light turned into a smothering cloud. Suddenly, her rage boiled all around me. Fear gripped my chest as I dove for cover behind a thick sweet-gum tree.

  Overheated and shaking, I had the sickening thought that maybe this thing had drawn me away from Pirate and Flappy on purpose.

  I gripped my switch star until my fingers turned white in the handles. No. Sure as I’d been shown my own death, I knew she was after me.

  At that moment, something flew toward my head as I threw myself to the ground. I don’t know how or why I knew how to fall, only that I had to check to make sure I was still in one piece. Heart pounding, I rolled and ducked behind a fallen log, scanning the trees for my attacker.

  Like a fog, the danger in the air lifted away. I was left digging one hand into rotting tree bark. The other still gripped the switch star. And when I stopped looking for the dark-haired woman in the trees and started to take it all in, I found the switch star that had gone missing earlier today.

  It was buried in the tree where my head had been.

  With a shudder, it dislodged itself and sailed back to me.

  “But why do we have to stay with you?” Pirate asked as we charged through the woods as fast as Flappy’s wings would go.

  “Because I don’t know what’s out there.” We needed to talk to Rachmort. Now.

  Unfortunately, we stumbled on Frieda first.

  She wobbled on red, white and blue platform sandals much better suited for the mall. “Hold up, Lizzie Brown. Where’s the fire?” she asked, hands on her white leather pants.

  “Someone just tried to chop my head off,” I said, all in one breath.

  Frieda shook her head, her red Vegas dice earrings swaying against her neck. “Again?” she asked. “Well, seeing as you’re in one piece, can I borrow your dragon for one teeny-tiny second?”

  “Why?” I asked, not appreciating the holdup. Then again, the witches were reinforcing the wards, so I’d be a fool not to help if I could.

  “Ingredient gathering,” she said, chomping on her gum.

  Oh great. This could take forever.

  Frieda clucked at Flappy like he was some kind of pet. “Now, Flappy.” She pointed to the high branches of a spindly tree. “You think you could get that broken-down bird’s nest up there?”

  The little dragon let out a puff of smoke and beamed with pride.

  “We need feathered mud to thicken up the wards,” she said as Flappy began his laborious ascent. “Don’t want anything slipping in.”

  “Fine,” I said, taking off. “You’re in charge of the dragon.”

  “Breathe for a minute, Lizzie,” she called after me. “You try to stir too many pots and you’ll end up putting vinegar in the pudding and vanilla extract in the turnip greens.”

  I didn’t even know what that meant.

  “Later!” I hollered back to her. Like when someone wasn’t trying to kill me.

  Then again, that could be a long wait.

  I found Zebediah Rachmort near the crooked oak, reviving a stomped-upon anthill. He crouched over the little black ants, murmuring and touching his knobby fingers to each one. They wriggled their legs and came back to life under the necromancer’s touch.

  I stopped short. “Holy hoodoo.” I’d never seen anything like it.

  He grinned and kept at his work. “Ants are simple. They don’t have souls.”

  “Can you do that to people?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. People, dogs, dragons,” he said, glancing out into the trees where I’d left Pirate and Flappy, “elevated life-forms have souls that travel to the beyond when they die. Necromancers who follow the path of the light would not revive a soulless shell.”

  “But you could,” I said slowly, grasping the depth of his power.

  “But I would not.” He tapped at the ants.

  When he’d revived the hill, I told him about the dark-haired woman in the woods.

  “I could suddenly sense her in a way I couldn’t before. I don’t know if she chose it or if I did.”

  Please let it be me.

  “Where’s your gold cord?” he asked.

  It took me a second to remember what he was talking about. “It was bothering me. I took it off in the woods. Why does it matter?”

  Rachmort nodded. “It was a simple test. Will you follow my instructions or your own instincts?” He wrapped a hand around my wrist, where the golden tie used to be. “It looks like you let go and followed your gut—in more ways than one.”

  I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right,” he said. “You decided you didn’t need my gold cord. You decided seeing the dark-haired woman was more important than knowing you couldn’t. Lesson learned.”

  The truth of it crept over me.

  Well how about that?

  Rachmort studied me carefully, cradling his chin in his hand. “On the downside, we know for sure you are connected somehow to this
dark-haired woman, or else she never could have used one of your switch stars against you.”

  “She stole a part of me. But I don’t always feel a tie,” I said, my eyes dropping to his bronze ring. “I can’t be sure I’ll detect her again.”

  Rachmort hung on my every word and then some. “It stands to reason that you wouldn’t always be able to feel yourself.”

  “But she’s not me. She’s evil.” I’d felt her rage when she attacked.

  He rubbed the side of his chin as he thought. “Hmm…Yes.” I could see the ideas whirling in his head. “But it does seem she possesses a connection, perhaps even a small part of you. We must seek to understand this new threat.”

  Despite my agitation, I felt a twinge of relief. “Grandma and the Red Skulls are going to build a cave of visions.”

  “Perfect,” he said, searching for the glasses that were propped on top of his head.

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  “The cave of visions is top of the line,” Rachmort said. “Unconventional. But it works much better than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ll even go with you, if you’d like.”

  “I would,” I said, grateful again for this man.

  Rachmort folded his hands behind his back as walked. “Don’t worry. You are strong. You are capable. We will learn what the dark-haired woman wants from you.”

  “And then what?” I asked.

  “That’s up to you, demon slayer.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The front lawn was not only covered with tarps, but Sidecar Bob was roasting turtle knees in an array of heirloom griffin armor. I cringed and hoped the pieces were darned near indestructible. In any case, the damage had been done. Bob had lined the priceless shields and breastplates with tinfoil to make crude roasting pans. He’d set them in fire pits all along the front drive.

  He made his way up the line, stirring them with a new—and expensive-looking—brass kitchen spoon. A scraggly witch followed him, carrying a baby-shampoo bottle, now filled with muddy sludge. She muttered to herself, her gray dreadlocks covering her face as she measured out capfuls of the slop.

  Of course that was nothing compared to the giant planks that Creely the engineering witch was pounding into the villa’s front door. She was too busy hammering to even notice me as I came up behind her and tugged on her brown leather pants.