by Deanna Chase
I’d ask the witches, and Grandma herself. I’d be seeing her soon enough. I leapt out of bed and started yanking my pants on. “Talk to me, Lizzie.” Dimitri followed me, trying to get me to face him. I felt the hot tears coming and knew if I looked at him I could lose it. Growing up, I’d had this picture in my mind of what my biological parents would be like. I never had much hope for ever meeting my dad. My birth certificate listed him as “unknown.” But my mom? Call it a stupid gut feeling, but I always felt like I’d meet her someday.
Suspicion clawed at me. I wondered why Dimitri had decided to tell me now. Twenty minutes ago, I would have thought he was concerned. After the whopper he’d told about his sisters, “What do you want me to do now? Save your sisters instead of my murdering grandma?”
At least he had the decency to look shocked. “No. Of course we’ll get Gertie. Vald has them all.”
I glared at him through a haze of tears. And why was a fifth level demon following us around anyway? “It’s your fault he got her, isn’t it?”
“No, Lizzie. He’s been holding out for you, wanting your powers. Sure, I followed you, but so did he. Remember the imps on the road? You may not like how I helped you, Lizzie, but you needed me to teach you as much as I need you to save my sisters tonight.”
“Let’s say it plain. You used me.”
“Yes,” he said quietly
There. He admitted it. He’d used me for my powers, and my body.
He had the nerve to look exasperated. “We couldn’t have a future with lies between us and I want a future with you.”
He stood there with a pained expression, waiting—for what I couldn’t imagine.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“When hell freezes over.”
I tripped over a corner of the bed and he caught me. “Lizzie.” He wrapped me in a bear hug.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, extricating myself. I found my bra wadded up next to the TV stand.
“Okay. Fine. Hate me. I hate myself right now too. But I was desperate to save Diana and Dyonne. It was the only way.”
“Fuck you.” There. I said it. And it didn’t feel nearly as good as I’d imagined.
He stood, looking helpless and forlorn. “Despise me, Lizzie,” he said, jaw tightening, “but it ends as soon as we hit the Dixie Queen. We need you focused for tonight. Vald has your grandma, but what he really wants is you. You have more raw power than any slayer I’ve ever heard of, but you’re still learning. Think about what happened with the black souls.”
“Move.” I had to find my belt.
“Vald thinks he can take your power. You can’t let him, Lizzie.”
“Oh, now you care about what happens to me?”
“I’ve always cared, Lizzie,” he said softly.
I delivered a scalding look as I tried to button my white shirt. Hard to do when there were only two buttons left. I hurled the ruined shirt across the room.
“Okay. That’s not true. I admit it. In the beginning, I only needed a slayer. I’ve been training my whole life to defeat this curse, to save my sisters. You have no idea how rare your skills,” he began, before he shot me a guilty look. “How rare you are,” he corrected himself a little too late. “When I sensed you, I went for you.”
“How long did you follow me?”
“Lizzie, let’s not get into this.”
“How long?” I demanded.
He drove a hand through his hair. “About a week. I sensed your powers through your grandma. She would have found you sooner, but her emotions blocked her. She cared about you. I only wanted to find you.”
I’d asked for the truth. Too bad I never realized how bad it would hurt. But how could I have really prepared myself for him, or this?
I started looking for a different shirt, as if I could conjure one out of thin air and a cheap motel room.
“Vald wants you, Lizzie. Your grandma suspected. It’s probably why he took her.”
So now it really was my fault Grandma was burning in hell. “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”
He ignored me. “If a demon can harness power like yours, there’s a good chance he can break out of hell.”
“What?” I stopped. “And walk the earth or something?”
“Yes,” Dimitri said quietly.
Unbelievable. I rested my hands on my hips. “So technically, we’d be better off to forget the whole thing.”
It was as if I’d slapped him. “What?”
I didn’t mean it. I’d said it just to shock him. But after I said it, the truth of it stuck with me. If I did go down there and fail, the world would be in much worse shape than it was now.
And who was I kidding? I probably needed Dimitri down there with me. He’d certainly up my odds of succeeding.
If I didn’t hate him.
I dunked his boxers in soggy remains of last night’s ice bucket.
“What the hell are you—?” He rushed to rescue his drowning underwear.
“Let’s just assume I’m crazy enough to go and face Vald. How do I know you won’t bolt and leave me down there as soon as we save your precious sisters?”
“You can’t possibly think—”
“I don’t know what to think,” I said, ducking into the bathroom, finding his keys next to his wallet. I stuffed them both into my pants and yanked my hair into a ponytail. The griffin hairpin clattered to the floor and I left it there.
While he went to retrieve the hairpin, I threw his pants off the balcony. Since my shirt was ruined, I took his black T-shirt instead. I regretted it immediately. His musky scent overwhelmed my senses.
Damn the man.
But I wasn’t about to walk out in nothing but my bra. And make no mistake, I was leaving.
I threw my oxfords into the saddlebag and fired up the hog. The motorcycle shook and groaned, as if it was trying to throw me off. I squeezed the handlebars until my knuckles went white. One step at a time. If I could ice Rex, save JR and battle a demon in my bathroom, I could do this.
Dimitri yelled something as he came tearing out of the room in dripping wet—and hopefully ice cold—boxers.
Get out of my life.
I kicked the bike into gear. It lurched forward like a drunken horse. Didn’t matter. The only thing that counted was getting away, far away from him.
Chapter 17
According to Dimitri, the Dixie Queen was a four hour ride. Hopping mad, it took me just under three.
He’d lied to me and I fell for it.
Was I that desperate for affection?
Yes.
If he’d been honest earlier, we might have stood a chance. Now? He could rot back there for all I cared. At least it would be finished tonight—for better or for worse. And if I survived hell, I’d make sure Pirate and I never saw these people again. I wasn’t stupid. There was probably more to Dimitri’s story—which I didn’t want to hear. And I knew there was a lot more to the story about my mom’s death. I’d get to the bottom of it.
Scarlet stood guard over the entrance to the long dirt driveway leading to the mothballed riverboat. I punched the bike and hurtled past her. Pond cypress and black gum branches reached out to snag my arms and swamp maples twined over the road. The marshlands radiated wet warmth and I could smell the river in the air.
If Dimitri had waited to give me any last-minute instructions, he was out of luck. I knew he’d slither his way to the Dixie Queen eventually. But I wasn’t about to wait for him and I’d have a heck of a time listening to him now that I knew he was a two-faced lying jerk. Make that a using two-faced lying jerk. My stomach roiled at the mere thought of that man.
I swerved around a pothole and tried to think. Ant Eater could help set me up for tonight. I’d also duck into the Cave of Visions to try to contact Grandma. I didn’t know how much she’d be able to help me while Vald held her prisoner.
Past a row of overgrown buckeye bushes, the Dixie Queen riverboat lurched on its moorings. The Yazoo River rolled upon itself as it rus
hed downstream, but not enough to cause that kind of rocking. The boat’s rusted black smokestacks spewed a mustardy smoke and water poured out of the third floor in waves, like a wayward fountain. The clearing smelled like burned hair and dead animals. And—bad sign—the Red Skulls crowded the swampy ground out front. What had they done now?
The witches worked a crude assembly line in front of the boat. Frieda led a group as they scrubbed glass jars in several saddlebags filled with soapy water. Bob, with Pirate riding shotgun, transported the jars to Ant Eater and another group of witches, who seemed to be baiting them like traps.
“Lizzie! I’m here, Lizzie!” Pirate splashed through the puddles and leaped into my arms. I shut the hog off just in time to catch him and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Mmm…wet dog. My wet dog. I squeezed my puppy tight.
“You miss me? I missed you.” Pirate wriggled in my arms.
“What’s with the flooded boat?” I asked.
“Um, yeah. You might not want to mention that. Frieda is sensitive about that as it is. She tried to clear out some of the cobwebs with a wind spell and, well, you know how tricky that can be.”
I had no idea, but I’d take his word for it.
“Lizzie.” Ant Eater jogged over to me, as she unwrapped a fun sized Snickers bar with her teeth and plunked it into the jar under her arm. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”
“Me too.”
She cocked a brow at my black T-shirt. Make that Dimitri’s shirt. The thing felt itchy all the sudden.
“Don’t ask,” I said.
“Wasn’t going to,” she replied, smacking the black leather cell phone holder attached to her hip.
I should have thrown Dimitri’s phone off the balcony along with his pants.
“Now get on over here,” she said, heading back to the stack of jars. “We got a problem.”
***
“What do you mean you cursed the boat?” I asked as we stood at the edge of the Dixie Queen’s rusty gangplank. The third-floor fountain splashed into the river on our right, tossing splatters of dull brown water that occasionally nipped at our legs and feet.
“Unscrew this.” Ant Eater handed me an airline bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. I watched as she poured the whiskey into the jar with the Snickers bars. “We weren’t planning on coming back. So, we booby trapped the thing. Problem is, we were a little preoccupied.”
“Drunk on dandelion wine,” Bob added. I hadn’t even heard him pull up behind us.
Ant Eater sniffed. “And hell, it’s been twenty years.”
“Young and stupid,” Bob agreed. He navigated over the bumpy ground between Ant Eater and me. “So we’re not sure exactly what we booby trapped.” He reached into a bag slung over the back of his wheelchair and pulled out a Ziploc bag of—ohmigosh—tails. Ant Eater offered him the jar and he dropped two tails inside.
“What are you making? A counter spell?”
Ant Eater grunted out a throaty chuckle. “Oh no. That’d only make ‘em mad. We lure the spells out, then, whomp,” she clamped the lid shut, “back in the slammer.”
“Why are you creating new magic?” Or simply a big mess. “What happens to the old magic?”
Ant Eater guffawed. “Nothing. This isn’t magic,” she said, shoving the Snickers-Jack Daniels-rat tail mess under my nose. Ew. The pungent aroma of deceased rodent and whiskey stung my nostrils. “This,” she said, screwing on the lid and shaking the thing up, “is a magical trap.”
Pirate leapt into Bob’s lap and I cringed when Bob scratched Pirate’s head. I knew where that hand had been.
“Choking spells love Snickers,” Bob said. “You can sometimes catch a Disintegration spell too. They go for most anything chocolate.”
It didn’t make sense. “You’re talking like these are live things here.”
Bob blinked. “They are. Some magic is most definitely alive.” Bob thrust his chair backward toward the witch assembly line. He moved forward a few feet, then spun around to face me. “Forget that and you could wind up hurt.” I followed him to the stack of jars, already swirling with colored muck. “We’ve cleared out two dozen of the little boogers already.”
“I helped with that one!” Pirate said, dancing in front of a Smuckers jar filled with a greenish haze. “I call him Larry.” He spun twice. “See? Lizzie, Larry. Larry, Lizzie,” he said, as if making an introduction.
Frieda dashed up to Ant Eater and thrust a jar into her hands. “I think I found it. This has to get rid of the, um,” she eyed me, “issue on the main deck.”
Oh no. Some hideout we had going here. “Issue?”
“It’s nothing,” Frieda tittered about an octave too high and patted her canary yellow hair.
I turned to her partner in crime. “Ant Eater?”
“Detail work,” she said, “Don’t worry about it.”
But I loved details.
Ant Eater held Frieda’s jar to the light and studied the swirling contents. “Thing is, I hate to blast her out of here if we don’t know where we’re sending her.”
“I programmed it for the Poconos,” Frieda told her. “Phoenix likes the mountains.”
“Phoenix?” I asked as Frieda practically jumped out of her platform sandals. How many Phoenixes did these people know…other than my mom?
My throat tightened. “I thought my mom was dead.”
Ant Eater’s fingers tightened on the jar as she continued to swirl the liquid inside.
“Frieda, Bob. Leave us alone.”
Bob’s wheelchair crunched across the leaves scattered on the ground. Frieda followed, reaching out to catch a Ziploc full of mushed snake and stuffing it back into Bob’s pack.
“Come on,” she said, gesturing to a pair of crates, “let’s sit down.”
“Oh great.” The riverboat groaned on its moorings as I followed her.
“Your mom’s not dead,” she said, more serious than I’d ever seen her, “at least I don’t think she is.”
I didn’t know what to think. “Dimitri said it.”
She shook her head. “He’s been listening to the rumors. Yes, Gertie went to confront your mom. It was a terrible time for us. We’d been on the run, fighting for our lives while the other covens fell.”
I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to watch a demon destroy their world like that.
Ant Eater stared into nothingness, the horror of it written on her face. “We were scared spitless, on the verge of losing our very souls.” She leveled a steady gaze at me. “Your mom betrayed us.”
Her words hurt. “Dimitri told me.”
Ant Eater nodded, her shoulders heavy. “She ran. I told Gertie to let her go. But she had to track Phoenix down. She had to know why.” She let out a grunting laugh. “Sometimes there is no ‘why.’”
“What happened when Grandma confronted her?” I asked quietly.
Ant Eater cleared her throat. “I don’t know. She never talked about it. She just said Phoenix was gone.”
“So she didn’t necessarily kill her,” I said, a weight lifting.
“No.” Ant Eater stood. “Gertie helped her hide for good and I can’t say as I blame her.” She looked down at me. “But there are some people here who would just assume she was dead. We can set up a meeting later if you’d like. For now, don’t go saying Phoenix is alive. It’s best she stays hidden.”
I understood. “Thanks.”
She gave a small grin, her gold tooth gleaming. “No sweat.”
“Now how about I help you?” I asked.
Her eyes widened. “How so?” she asked, not completely trusting me.
“Seeing as I can walk through a death spell,” I sauntered over to a blinky orange spell that was trying to hide behind one of the moorings of the boat. I reached out and grabbed it. “Gotcha!” Yeek. It was cold. And slimy. But I held onto it just fine.
Ant Eater’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Well I’ll be damned.”
“It’s not bad having a demon slayer back, is it?”
I felt powerful, light as I made my way up the rusted gangplank.
She threw a hand up. “Oh I don’t know about you going in there.”
I was a demon slayer, a person who would stand up to the darkness—whether it meant going to hell or saving these witches from their own magic.
The guard spells churned in the musty ship behind me. They stomped and demanded my attention. I’d never been so attracted to danger in my life.
A green and white flecked spell danced just inside the entryway. It zoomed for my neck and I swiped it out of the air. It buzzed in my hand like a fly. Choking Spell. I crushed it in my hand. A second spell swooped from behind my left ear. I caught it. Giggle Spell.
“Lizzie,” Ant Eater stalked toward me, all business.
Too perfect. Yeah, it was wrong, but Ant Eater looked so uptight down there on the lawn. I hurled the giggler at her and she exploded in a squeal of delight. Her rough-and-tumble body vibrated with titters, her trunk-like legs stomped as if fighting it before they relented and hopped daintily in time to her peals of laughter. Oh yeah. That was the first time I’d felt myself smile since Dimitri and I…I didn’t want to think about it. Ant Eater might try to kill me later, but it was worth it.
A bunch of the witches came running. Most stopped short in amazement.
Of course nothing fazed Bob. “Try to save a few.” He tossed me some jars.
“What? Can I put a bunch in one jar?”
He made an “iffy” motion with his hand. “Depends on the species.”
Okay, well we didn’t have time for a lesson in Magic 101. I’d capture a few of the ornery ones and destroy the worst magic. I’d already seen what could happen when a death spell got out of hand.
“Just don’t trip any Giggle Bombs yourself,” Bob hollered as I ducked inside. “We need you coherent for tonight.”
The ship rocked underneath my feet. Slot machines crowded the entryway, as if the Dixie Queen’s original patrons couldn’t wait to get started. To my right, a roulette table stood abandoned, chips stacked on some of the numbers. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I interrupted a game. The white wood facade, rotting at the edges and chipped by age, extended back to a matching bar. Old fashioned gaslight lamps lined the walls. As I watched, flames ignited in the glass bowls. It made me jump enough to rattle the glass jars I held, but I tried to look on the bright side. Nothing had tried to eat me or possess me—yet.
