ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer ds-1

by Angie Fox

  “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 force. 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.

  The bike swayed as we rounded our way to the back parking lot. I could feel every muscle and tendon in Dimitri’s back as I gripped him tightly. The blood on his T-shirt had dried, making the material crunchy. The gashes on his back had already begun to heal. Impossible, yes. But I’d been staring at the proof for darned near an hour. Well, hadn’t I known he wasn’t quite human?

  I eased away from Dimitri as the bike slowed. This place gave me the heebie-jeebies. A minicity of beaten-down trailers huddled at the edge of the lot. Near them stood a haphazard carport with a dozen bikes stashed inside. We pulled up to the end of the row.

  As soon as Dimitri killed the engine, I poked him in the back. “Did you find any sign of Pirate?” If he saw my doggy in that awful house, if something had happened to Pirate, I needed to know.

  “He wasn’t in there,” Dimitri said, shutting down the bike.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. I had to know, because if I was going to hope…

  “He’s okay,” he reassured me. “I looked everywhere.” He took a deep breath. “I saw a lot of things, but no Pirate. And I didn’t see your grandma either. Both of them must have made it out. I’ll tell you more once we get inside. This is the safe house. It’s run by some friends of mine. The Red Skulls were slated to meet here if something happened at the bar. Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go on in.”

  I ditched his grasp and a flash of pain crossed his features. Well, tough. No way was I letting him near me.

  Side-by-side, yet universes apart, we crunched through the gravel parking lot. My ankle throbbed and my legs felt woozy after that hour on the bike. In a lot of ways, stepping off a bike was like getting off a ride at an amusement park.

  I tested the armor on my chest. Solid as steel and just as impossible to remove. I fought back a wave of claustrophobia. It was as if the bronze plates been welded onto me. “Mind telling me what you did to me?” I asked, almost angry I had to say anything to Dimitri at this point.

  He walked beside me, his eyes straight ahead. “I gave you the gift of protection. Ancient magic, designed to defend you. Your panos will always be what you need it to be.”

  “Well, take it back. This is creeping me out.” I didn’t need
body armor. Please don’t let me need body armor. Lord, I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want this.

  “It isn’t my choice to make,” he said, leading me to the front entrance.

  “You are such a jack—” For the first time, I almost let something nasty slip. But then he opened the glass door and my mouth dropped open.

  I hardly heard the tinkling of the bell as Dimitri ushered me inside. A woman leaned against the hostess’s desk. She wore red button earrings and a matching bandana. Only it wasn’t a woman. It was a werewolf.

  Chapter Nine

  The werewolf’s ears pricked as we entered the restaurant. She had a thick coat of streaky yellow hair and flashed claws that could tear your heart out. She growled, low in her throat.

  I went on instant high alert. “Dimitri!” Some protector. He’d led me into the wolves’ den.

  “Steady.” He placed a firm hand on my back. “She’s just trying to scare you.”

  Yeah, well it was working. Never in a million years would I have expected to walk in on a werewolf, and at Shoney’s, no less. This was supposed to be a family restaurant, one where people came to eat, not to be eaten.

  The air around the werewolf shimmered and—cursed canines—she began to change. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. Her body shifted and her hair receded until she was left with smooth tan skin, a sassy blonde pageboy haircut and cherry red fingernails to die for. Her body was sculpted, her breasts perky and she lounged against the hostess stand with the practice of a Price Is Right model. Unfricking-believable.

  The formerly furry sex goddess dipped her chin toward Dimitri. “Hiya, babe. I knew I’d see you back here one way or another.” From the way she said it, it was obvious these two had a history. And judging from how she undressed him with her baby blues, their relationship hadn’t exactly been rated PG.

  Lovely.

  Dimitri ignored it, either oblivious or a good politician. “Andrea, this is Lizzie,” he said. “Lizzie, this is my friend Andrea.”

  I didn’t like how he said the word friend. Andrea didn’t either. Her face twisted into the kind of snarl perceptible only to women. And I swear her fingernails grew half an inch.

  Don’t worry, honey. I don’t want him anyway.

  She sniffed at my borrowed clothes in disdain. “Nice pants.”

  Now I really wanted to be a demon slayer so I could fire some switch stars, or maybe a bolt of lightning, up her butt. As it stood, I simply nodded to the bitch (the word bitch being a technical term for her condition, of course).

  The hostess area stood apart from the main restaurant by a wall of paneling that might have looked classy if it hadn’t been cheap, faded and strewn with used ticky tack. An ancient M&M candy machine didn’t quite camouflage the splintered hole behind it. The rest of the area was bare except for two bodyguards, who stood directly behind Andrea. They stared at me, heavy-lidded and suspicious. As if they had anything to fear from the non-demon-slaying demon slayer. They could rip my arms off without breaking a sweat.

  Behind the wall, I could hear the murmur of conversation and the clinking of silverware. Sausage, potatoes, and eggs should have smelled heavenly, but after the night I’d had, the mere thought of food made my stomach sour.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going out with this pop tart,” Andrea sniggered, proving beyond a doubt she was no lady herself. “She wouldn’t know what to do with a man like you.”

  Oh puh-leeze.

  “Watch yourself, Andrea,” Dimitri warned.

  “Don’t worry. I’d pick this one to be all bark, no bite,” I commented, just to taunt her. Yes, it was shallow, but she deserved it. “Now are we done playing Melrose Place? Where is everyone?”

  Andrea scowled at me. She hitched her head back and called to whoever was behind the paneling. “We got two more!”

  A cascade of voices and a smattering of applause greeted her announcement. Frankly, I didn’t know what we had to cheer about. The coven’s hideout was destroyed, some of the witches were missing and a fifth-level demon could be popping by at any moment.

  Pirate skittered around the corner and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Thank you. Thank God he got out of there. That moment was worth every second out there in those dark woods. I rushed to my doggy, scooped him up and hugged him tight. “How are you doing?” I asked, stroking him, inspecting his back, his paws, his tail, everything. His paws were black with mud and—phew—he could use a bath, but otherwise he seemed to be all right. “You okay?”

  He licked my arms, my elbows, everywhere he could reach. “Damn, Lizzie. Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I mean I was scared. I was more scared than when you went to Florida and left me at that doggy day spa with the shaking pet pillows.”

  I buried my nose in his hair, so glad to see my little dog. Someone had even made sure he had fresh bandages for his back.

  “Aye-eee!” I heard Frieda approaching before I ever saw her. I could smell her too—cigarettes with a hint of cinnamon gum.

  She hugged me from behind. “You disappear again and I’m going to kick your butt into next Sunday.” She emphasized her threat with a pop of her gum. “So now,” she said, chewing as she talked, “you feeling all right?”

  I nodded. Talk about a loaded question. I couldn’t go home, the coven was destroyed. I had no idea what to do with my utterly cool yet completely frightening demon slayer mojo and now I’d given Dimitri enough power over me to make me very, very uncomfortable. “Where’s Grandma?” I asked. I couldn’t wait to see her. She’d tell me what to do.

  Frieda locked her elbow in mine. “Well, I’ll say one thing. It was a hell of a fight. Come on back to the dining room and we’ll tell you all about it.”

  We followed Frieda around the divider and into the main restaurant. Immediately, I could see there were two different groups of people occupying the space. The werewolves dominated the center of the dining room and had set up the Rootin’ Tootin’ Breakfast Buffet. At least that’s what the sign declared in big block letters. That morning, they’d opted to stick with the basics—sausage links, breakfast potatoes and scrambled eggs. A pimply teenager nodded at me as we passed. His gangly arms led down to massive, hairy wolf claws. Built-in pot holders, it seemed as he clutched a steaming platter of undercooked bacon.

  Pirate wriggled in my arms. “Oh lookie there. Bacon! I couldn’t eat any before. I didn’t have any appetite before, but now I think I’m over it.”

  I stroked the wiry fur on his head. “Later, Pirate. Right now, we have to find Grandma.”

  “Oh now, Lizzie,” he began reluctantly. “She never liked me much and besides I don’t think you need to be hearing about the deal them witches made with those werewolves. You won’t be in the mood for no bacon after that.”

  Deal? What deal?

  “Pirate,” Frieda growled.

  “All I’m saying is if Lizzie’s the one who’s got to schlep everywhere, getting rid of those black souls for a bunch of smelly werewolves, then she should at least get some breakfast first.”

  Black souls? Pirate was right. My stomach had begun churning enough at that point to make breakfast impossible. I glanced back at Dimitri, hoping this deal wasn’t another one of his tricks. From the murder in his eyes, I guessed not.

  “Frieda, care to enlighten me?” I was suddenly feeling quite murderous myself.

  Frieda cast a worried glance over her shoulder. “Come on back, honey. I think Ant Eater would like to have a word with you.”

  “Oh, well if Ant Eater is behind it, I’m sure I’ll love it.” The last time I’d seen Ant Eater, she’d been holding me by the throat. It made sense she’d want to throw me to the werewolves. Grandma would straighten this out. She had to. It worried me that I hadn’t seen her yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lizzie.

  As we weaved through the tables, I could feel the eyes of the werewolves on us. One in particular struck me hard. He stood with his back to the wall and a rifle on his shoulder. I did
a double take. He was built lean and menacing, like a bad-boy drummer in a rock band. Tattoos wound up his arms and neck, past the blond hair that hung in over-stylized hunks almost all the way down to his shoulders. The only thing that gave away his species was the way he sniffed the air. That and he seemed more than comfortable in the middle of a Shoney’s full of werewolves.

  Dimitri, walking behind me, touched me on the arm, his fingertips almost brushing the edge of the armor that curved around my side. “That’s Rex,” he said, giving me a light squeeze. “Stay away from him.”

  I could feel Rex’s eyes on us. He reminded me of a predator, watching, waiting to discover a weakness. I glanced back and picked up the pace when I saw his fierce smirk. He looked like he’d won the lottery.

  The werewolves were the only ones eating. The witches stuck to the booths along the right wall, injured and shell-shocked. Sidecar Bob had set up a haphazard triage station on a few tables he’d pushed together at the end of the row of booths, out of sight yet close enough. It didn’t look like anyone was in the mood to venture far.

  Frieda led me to the last booth, the one closest to the restrooms. Dimitri walked behind me, as if I wanted him around after what he’d pulled. Maybe Ant Eater would do me a favor and pound him into next Tuesday.

  “What happened back there, Frieda? It was Vald, wasn’t it?”

  She wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. “Oh honey, let’s hold off for now, okay?”

  Hold off? What could possibly be more important? “Do you think he’ll try to follow us here?” I asked. “And where is here?”

  Frieda shook her head as we passed two booths of witches. I saw the tall, red-haired one, Scarlet. But no Grandma. “Come on now, hon.”

  “Actually, Vald could have followed us quite easily,” Dimitri said, making sure any of the witches we passed could hear him. Nice, considering these people were probably scared out of their wits as it was.

  Dimitri didn’t seem to care. “Nowhere is safe,” he said, anger and accusation seeping into his voice. “That’s why you need to be trained. And protected.”