by Angie Fox
Yes, I wanted to give up my powers. I was a teacher— and a damn good one. Not a demon slayer. I had to give this up, I told myself, my palms growing slick and sweaty against Frieda’s…and Ant Eater’s. And why did I care about Ant Eater? I didn’t even like Ant Eater.
But I loved this life.
Despite everything, I didn’t want to leave.
“Lizzie?” Grandma eyed me expectantly.
I hated sudden decisions. And until recently, I’d never been good at trusting my gut. I closed my eyes and searched hard for what I needed to do. I should give up my powers. I should pack up Pirate and head straight home. But…“I’m not going to do it.” I said. “I’m staying.”
I felt the witches exhale in a whoosh. Heck, I did the same thing myself. I couldn’t believe it. Me, in all of my over-planning, over-serious, oxford-wearing glory. I wanted to be a demon slayer. And, I thought as I squeezed my toes inside my high-flying, demon-whomping black boots, I might even ditch the oxfords for good.
“Okay!” Grandma said, grinning from ear to ear, not quite sure what to do next. “Uh, Scarlet? What’s my next line?”
Scarlet tapped a few keys on the laptop and carried the whole thing over to Grandma.
Grandma placed a hand over my throat and used the other to steady the computer as she read. “As your soul was rended in pieces may it fuse, whole again.” She caught my eye and winked. “Stronger for the wound that cut so deep. Wiser for facing the evil that caused it. Braver for having risked so much.”
Grandma released my neck and snuffed the fire under the silver chafing dish. Scarlet reached under the cart and held up a large serving platter. On it, she placed a crystal goblet with handles on the sides. I remembered that goblet from the protection ceremony. And if I was lucky, there’d be something in that pot besides mashed squirrel and bakki root.
I felt Frieda dance on her toes. “Ohhh…cherried turtles is a delicacy, you know.”
Grandma ladled the thick stew into the cup. The top of the crystal goblet clouded with steam.
This time, I’d drink.
Grandma held out the cup to the group. “As we drink, we are one.” She inhaled the vapors above the goblet and took the first sip. Frieda went next. The cup made it all around the room and stopped in front of me, with plenty of goo to spare.
Think of cherry pie filling. I took it both hands, touched my lips to the sweltering cup and drank. It burned down my throat like a dozen shots of Jack Daniels, warming me, filling me. The two halves of my soul fused and radiated a sense of completeness and harmony that burst straight through me.
The witches burst into applause. I felt Dimitri’s emerald warm in my pocket.
I did it.
Frieda hauled off and hugged me while Ant Eater pounded me on the back.
I squinted as the overhead lights flickered on. “Beast Feast!” the witches hollered, stampeding for the door.
Frieda helped me ease off the goopy necklace and linked her arm in mine. “After that’s the dancin’. We captured a ton of dance spells. They take forever to make. Want some?” she asked, digging through her bra. “I’ve got an Angus Young and a Macarena,” she said, stuffing them into my pocket. “Both very big in their time.” And wait, she said, fishing below her left boob. “Tango!” She nudged me with her elbow. “I saw you out there heating it up with Dimitri.”
Ant Eater shoved her way past. “Wait,” she said. “Gertie forgot part of the ceremony.” Sure enough, Grandma and Scarlet debated back and forth as they studied the laptop screen. “Quick.” Ant Eater popped a salty, jelly beany, bitter-when-I-bit-it thing into my mouth.
“Ugh,” I said, through three chews and a quick swallow. I felt it every inch of the way down to my stomach. But I completed the ceremony this time. I did it. Come hell or highly unusual witchcraft.
Ant Eater burst out laughing.
“What?” Did I finally break through to that woman?
She grinned, her gold tooth flashing in the lamp-light. “You just ate an owl’s eye.”
Ick. “A magical owl’s eye?” I hoped.
“Nope. Just a plain old eye. Sucker!” She thumped me hard on the arm. “That was to get you back for not drinking the protection potion.
“Hey, everybody! Lizzie just ate an owl’s eye,” she guffawed.
I dug into my pocket, past Dimitri’s emerald.
“That’ll teach Lizzie not to mess with me,” Ant Eater said, her attention on the crowd as I slipped a Macarena spell into her drink.
Too bad I didn’t have time to watch Ant Eater star in Dancing with the Red Skulls. I had to go see about a griffin. And I hoped I wasn’t too late.
I didn’t know how I’d find him. My demon slayer instincts were programmed for danger, not sexy griffins. I’d just have to follow him to the airport, or to Santorini, or hell—wherever I needed to go.
As I dashed over the rumbling gangplank of the Dixie Queen, I saw him. Dimitri. I couldn’t believe he was still here. “Hold up!” I called like a crazy person.
He sat, back straight, on his Harley. Well, until he heard me yelling at him. I couldn’t see the look on his face, but I could tell by the way he hitched his long body off that hog that he was happy to see me. It had been a whole half hour, right?
“You’re still here!” I said, plowing straight into him. He caught me and we both lurched sideways. He smelled so good, like sandalwood and pure man.
“Easy now,” he said, running his hands along my arms.
I pulled him down to me and kissed him hard. He held me close, even after I broke away. “I had the worst feeling,” he said, his breath warm against my cheek. “Like if I drove down that road, I’d never see you again.”
I didn’t want to think about how close I came. “You knew I’d come back, didn’t you?”
“Hoped,” he said.
He slid his hand into my pocket and withdrew the emerald. “May I?” I nodded as he slipped the thin bronze chain around my wrist. “You’re coming to Greece with me,” he said.
Like I could resist. I may not know much about the magical world, but I knew a good thing when I saw it. I’d be crazy to let him go. “Well I figure I’ve never ridden a Clydesdale up a flight of stairs.”
“Diana will be thrilled.”
A grin tickled the corners of my mouth. “Me too.” I liked the idea of a family whose members watched out for each other. Growing up, I’d have given anything to have that. Now, between Grandma and Dimitri, I could have it two times over.
Dimitri reached into his back pocket and held up my dark blue passport. “A little something JR found in your desk at home.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You stole my passport?”
He had the nerve to look offended. “You stole my wallet.”
“Touché.” Ah, the memories lingered long after the underwear had dried. I nipped at his lips. He really was the most stubborn man I’d ever met.
“They’re here!” Frieda hollered, wobbling as she scurried down the path on her platform sandals. “Boy oh boy,” she told us, “your grandma’s hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.”
I fought the urge to bury my face against Dimitri’s chest. “What now?”
“It’s your Uncle Phil. He ran off with a succubus.” She patted at her canary yellow bouffant. “Rumor has it, they’re in Vegas.”
What did she expect us to do? “We’re heading to Greece.”
“You sure about that? The universe didn’t give you those powers for nothing. You too, buster,” she said, flashing a rhinestone-tipped nail at Dimitri. “You owe us one.”
Dimitri’s necklace pulse, glowed, wound down my body to form a—
Oh no.
I lifted the front of my bustier and peeked down at my chain link bronze showgirl bra, Dimitri’s tear drop emerald glowing between my breasts.
Did I really choose this kind of life?
I couldn’t help smiling.
Yeah, I did. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
/> ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to:
Chessie Welker, my first reader and critique partner, for keeping me on track.
Leah Hultenschmidt, who found this manuscript and made a dream come true.
My agent, Jessica Faust—I don’t know how she got to be so smart, but I know I’m lucky to have her in my corner.
Harley rider Brad Jones, who answered a slew of “What if?” questions, let me ride along on the back of his hog and introduced me to Harley Boy and Cletus, two of the coolest biker dogs around. Thanks also to Jesse Lane, International Pack Guardian of the Biker Dogs Motorcycle Club.
Chocolate covered thanks to Stephanie Rowe and Sally MacKenzie for showing a newbie the ropes. I hope I can do the same for someone else.
Finally, I’m indebted to my own personal cheering squad—Joanna Campbell Slan, Ann Aguirre, Diane Freiermuth, Theresa Burnham, Candy Calvert and Nancy Herriman, Kathye Marsh, Mary Cooper Feliz, Anja Boersma, Scott Granneman and Aileen Crowe Nandi. You make the journey a lot more fun.
And, of course, to Jim.
Copyright
LOVE SPELL®
August 2008
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 2008 by Angie Fox
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0533-9
The name “Love Spell” and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
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