by Angie Fox
“Thanks for the sentiment. Now leave.”
“I brought you some new clothes. Alpha’s orders,” she said, dumping a bag on the floor.
I wondered what was behind the personal delivery.
She flipped her platinum blonde pageboy hair. “Good thing you didn’t kill Ant Eater,” she said, breezing over to the couch with a paper shopping bag. “We had to make a special trip to Leather Up for her. My boss has a thing for the ladies.”
Oh, this was getting old. “Pack up your fake boobs and your fake hair and your fake attitude and scram before I show you what I did to Ant Eater.”
Andrea opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again.
“Now,” I said.
“Enjoy your new clothes,” she grumbled, the trailer door banging on its hinges behind her.
I picked my way past broken glass to retrieve the bag. All things being equal, I would have rather collapsed in a chair and slept for a week. But I did need to get cleaned up, and we had a lot bigger problems than my lack of sleep. I had to learn everything I could once Dimitri hauled his butt back here. I’d given him power over me. It was as real as the teardrop emerald I wore. Now it was time for him to do something in return. He knew more about my powers than I did. It seemed like everybody did given the afternoon I’d had. And we’d need every power we possessed to get Grandma back.
At least I’d gotten something out of Ant Eater’s rampage. When I stopped worrying about myself and focused on the problem, I did get better at fighting her. Look to the outside.
An uncomfortable thought struck me. Perhaps Dimitri had been right to leave me on my own this afternoon. He’d given me a powerful instructor—me. I’d learned to trust my instincts. It was an unspoken kind of learning, a feeling that can’t be taught from the outside.
Accept the universe. I toyed with the plastic handles of the bag. I did get help in the form of a power I didn’t even know I had. And even though I still couldn’t pry it off, the helmet had come in handy against Ant Eater’s sword. While I was feeling brave, I looked inside the bag. Eek.
Inside, I found a pair of chewing-tobacco-stained men’s cleats and what could best be described as a mumu.
“What am I, Mrs. Roeper?” I griped to myself. Nobody else was listening. I held the nylon day dress out in front of me. Yellow birds paraded, beaks open, over a loud green-and-blue checkered background. It would have made an ugly tablecloth. As a sack-shaped dress? It was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen. Andrea had gotten the last word.
The last item in the bag—much to my relief—was a pair of granny panties. Those I could wear.
But I had bigger things to worry about than fashion. I took a shower and donned the mumu. It fit like a Hefty bag and was almost as attractive. I paired it with the scarf Frieda had used as a face mask. Lovely. At least the scarf around my waist gave me a hint of a figure, even if it was eerily reminiscent of a twist tie. I swung my arms. At least I could move in it.
I tugged on the cleats, along with the men’s gym socks I’d found rolled up inside. They were certainly more comfortable than my ruined oxfords and besides, they might help with my training. Athletes wore cleats when they threw baseballs. I’d wear them to hurl switch stars. Andrea, the tarnished angel of mercy, had actually given me a pretty good demon slayer outfit.
Pirate lifted his head. “Dimitri’s back.”
“Now how could you possibly know that?” I asked, moving toward the window.
“Doggy intuition,” he said, following me.
Darned if he wasn’t right. I pulled the dusty curtain aside and saw Dimitri and Scarlet pulling up in the Shoney’s parking lot. Well thank goodness. We had work to do.
I caught up with Dimitri—yummy in a clean black T-shirt and a pair of Levi’s 501s, having coffee at Shoney’s with a man who could have been Mr. T’s evil twin. The guy wore stacks of jewelry, and his foul temper made me want to take three steps back.
Dimitri raised a brow at my outfit. “Lizzie, this is Fang. He’s the alpha of the Blue Moon Pack.” He shook a packet of sugar into his coffee and stirred it, as nonchalant as if he were catching up with an old friend. I didn’t buy it for a second.
Fang, huh? So this was the wolf Rex needed to beat. Yikes. I hoped Fang held on to power long enough for us to rescue Grandma and get the heck out of Dodge. The large werewolf looked me over like I’d escaped from the loony bin. I hoped it was the outfit. “This is the slayer, huh? Not what I expected.” His eyes narrowed.
“I get that a lot,” I told him.
Dimitri patted the seat next to him, and I slid into the booth. This had disaster written all over it. If the Red Skulls didn’t need this guy’s protection, I would have been out of there faster than you could say “dead demon slayer.”
Fang leaned his meaty arms on the table. “The black souls hovering around here are a threat to my pack. Get rid of them by midnight tomorrow, or all bets are off.” He glared at us, clearly expecting a challenge.
Dimitri merely raised a brow. “Fair enough,” he said. His hand found mine and gave it a squeeze. “You ready, Lizzie?” I nodded, eerily unsure of what I’d just agreed to do.
Chapter Twelve
Well thank God and hallelujah. I slipped two fingers into the delicately carved holes of the switch star. Think of it as a tricked-out Frisbee. The switch star was flat and round, about the shape of a small dinner plate. Five blades curled around the edge. They’d been dull in Dimitri’s hands. When I touched them, they glowed.
Dimitri guided my shoulders into position, his grip firm. “Remember your stance.”
The evening breeze whipped a few loose tendrils of hair into my face, tickling my nose. I resisted the urge to scratch and instead studied the target, a fifty-gallon plastic drum that had once held Grade A Lard, or so it said in industrial block letters on the side. Cliff and Hillary’s tip-top arteries would have clogged at the sight of it.
We stood far back from the village of trailers that dotted the grassland behind Shoney’s. In theory, we were at least a football field away from prying eyes. In reality, several of the werewolves had followed us to the training grounds. They’d pulled up a few ramshackle sofas and chairs and, of course, Andrea perched on the end of the shabby gold divan closest to Dimitri. She wore a leather bustier overflowing with cleavage and had kept busy painting her nails and flirting loudly with every werewolf within a half mile.
Like I cared. She was small potatoes compared to what Grandma was going through. Scarlet had spent the afternoon in the nearest thing she could find to a Yardsaver shed, an empty Dumpster back behind the restaurant. She’d reported Grandma was still trapped in the first layer of hell, holding on with everything she had, fighting Vald as he tried to suck her down into the second level with him. I had to get Grandma out of there.
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. I 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.
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 Yardsaver 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 Pirate 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 self-consciously 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.
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.”
