What to Expect When Your Demon Slayer is Expecting (Biker Witches Mystery Book 8)

by Angie Fox

  Last night, despite my fatigue, I’d lain awake in Dimitri’s arms for hours, my mind running in circles. It seemed like no matter where I turned, there was only more uncertainty. I didn’t know how long the ward around my wrist would last, but every minute that passed without a plan was a minute closer to the spirit taking control again.

  I couldn’t let that happen. Not to me, not to my babies. But I didn’t know what we could do to stop it. Even if we found more ingredients for another ward, that wasn’t a long-term strategy. The spirit was clever—he would find a way around it eventually. And when he did…

  “Lizzie? Dimitri? Are you two up yet?”

  Dimitri stirred with a faint groan. I stroked a hand over his shoulder and called out, “Awake but not up, Dad.”

  “Well, get a move on, honey. There’s someone downstairs who might be able to help you.”

  “Are you serious?” I sat up so fast my head spun. “Who? Is Rachmort back from purgatory?” He never came home early. But maybe this time he did. Maybe he’d sensed something wrong with me and come running.

  “Come downstairs and find out,” Cliff said, refusing to give anything away. “Your mom left your bags outside the door. There’s breakfast down there too, in case you’re hungry.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I was starving. My stomach grumbled loudly, and Dimitri cracked an eye and gazed up at me with a grin. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re eating for three now.”

  “I am not.” I boofed him with a feather pillow. “I’m eating for one with two teeny, tiny passengers.” I scooted out of bed. “Besides, I’m always hungry first thing in the morning.” I’d tried to do sunrise yoga a few times with a few of the other ladies in our subdivision back home in Southern California, but putting off my breakfast for an extra hour meant a stomach so loud it was like having Pirate there with me, rumbling all the way through Downward Dog pose.

  Speaking of Pirate, I wondered where he’d spent the night. Probably with Bob, eating leftover squirrel.

  Our black leather luggage looked out of place on Hillary’s champagne-colored carpet. I pulled both bags inside and cracked mine open to grab fresh clothes.

  Clean underwear, new miniskirt, a different bustier…I paused, letting my fingers linger over a heather-purple one. Maybe I’d go with something a little roomier today.

  Dimitri came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders. “You could borrow one of my shirts.”

  “I swim in your shirts, babe.”

  I grabbed a fitted black Kiss My Asphalt T-shirt that Grandma had given me for my last birthday, snatched up my toiletries, and headed for the bathroom.

  I didn’t linger. I couldn’t wait to meet Cliff’s mysterious helper. It had better be Rachmort.

  Please let it be Rachmort. My mentor knew more about demons, spirits, and other big baddies than anyone else I’d ever met.

  I hurried down to the living room and stopped short when I saw who sat on my mother’s tufted ivory couch. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Language, Lizzie,” Mom chided from where she poured champagne for mimosas into dozens of crystal glasses on the table.

  Language, my ass! I looked around for something to throw. Maybe one of those empty bottles…

  “Lizzie.” Xavier, fallen angel and deadbeat dad extraordinaire, stood up from the couch with a big smile on his face. A cheap suit hung awkwardly over his frame, and his face appeared even thinner than usual. He’d let his limp black hair grow and had pulled it back into a ponytail. “It’s wonderful to see you again! How about a hug?”

  “A hug?” How about a slug to the jaw? I glared at him so hard he took a step back. It didn’t hurt that I had an enormous, glowering griffin backing me up. “Are you serious? After what happened last time, you think you can just show up here and start from scratch?” I whirled on Cliff. “This is who you got to help me? Do you know what he’s done?”

  Hell, what hadn’t dear old Dad tried to get away with? Since I’d met my biological father, who happened to be a fallen angel—emphasis on the fallen—I’d been conned into nearly killing myself to save his soul, offered up as a sacrifice to the Earl of Hell, and worst of all, lied to about how much he wanted to be a part of my life.

  I’d never forget the way he walked out on me after I’d risked everything to save him.

  Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents, he’d told me. Yes, well, then they shouldn’t lie about it and pretend just to get what they wanted before walking out.

  “What do you want this time?” I demanded.

  He spread his hands out in front of him. “I just want to help you, baby.”

  “I don’t need more of your games,” I told him flatly.

  Killing demons was my calling, but having my heart toyed with like that…it had almost broken me the first time. The second time around I’d thought I was prepared for his treachery, but it had still hurt. When he’d left without a word after I killed his demonic master, I’d thought that was the end of it. I’d let him go and moved on.

  I wasn’t about to deal with it a third time.

  And where did he get off acting like everything was fine? Son of a bitch.

  “I can get rid of him right now,” Dimitri said dryly, moving from behind me.

  Cliff stepped in. “Hold on a second,” he said, lifting a hand. “I don’t know all the details,” he conceded. “I do know that it’s all hands on deck here. Your grandmother and her coven are doing their best, but we can’t afford to leave any stone unturned.” He looked a lot sterner than I was used to. “Just hear him out. After all, I did go to the trouble of bailing him out to get him here.”

  “Bailing him out?” I glared at my bio dad. “You were in jail?”

  Xavier winced, and even that looked slimy. “It was a little misunderstanding, at best. I was this close to talking my way out of—”

  Cliff cut right through the bullshit. “He got picked up in Reno for cheating at the tables. He also owes a significant amount of money to some pretty…unsavory people.”

  Xavier did look rather the worse for wear. He was a tall man, and handsome if you liked them lanky, but he’d gone from thin the last time I saw him to practically cadaverous now, and his hair looked greasy.

  This was not the man who had played preacher and brought hundreds of congregants to their knees with the strength of his charisma. This was a man who had lost all his charms and was hanging onto life by the seat of his pants.

  My heart panged a little in sympathy, but I stifled it. Xavier didn’t deserve that kind of consideration. “How did you find him?”

  Cliff tucked his hands into his pockets. “I have financial alerts set up for his name, as well as numerous aliases. When he gets into trouble, I find out about it.”

  I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. I knew Cliff. “You’ve always been thorough.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not hard to put two and two together. Everything leaves a money trail, and his ruined church left a big one.” He glanced back at Xavier. “Following the money can lead to a lot of information.”

  Oh my god. My biological dad was a screwy charlatan who’d gotten himself arrested, and my adopted dad was a financial tech wizard who’d bailed him out. What was my life?

  “What makes you think he’ll be able to help?” I asked.

  “Lizzie, honey.” Cliff cocked his head and strolled over to me. “I know you don’t like to involve your mother and me in the demon-slayer side of things. I know it’s dangerous and you’re trying to protect us, and for the most part I appreciate that. But you’re up against something big and bad. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that when you want to see the inside of a sewer, you find a rat.”

  “I’ll let that pass,” Xavier commented.

  We ignored him.

  “He’s right,” Xavier tried again. “I can help. I would have come anyway, though,” he insisted. “Knowing that you were in trouble—that your unborn children were at ris
k—that was all the reason I needed to come here.”

  Dimitri snorted. “You’re full of shit.”

  Xavier laid a hand against his heart, looking wounded. “It’s true! I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. I own that, but I’m not so heartless that I would abandon my only child when she needs me.”

  It sounded good, except…he’d done that. That was precisely what he’d done, and not only had I almost died last time, Dimitri had been the one to save me. Xavier hadn’t helped keep my family together then—he’d practically destroyed it.

  My lips were numb, I was pressing them hard together to keep from screaming at my father. I forced myself to relax enough to speak. “What did Cliff offer you to come here?”

  “Lizzie—” he said, too cloying, too practiced.

  My head thrummed and my jaw ached. “Tell me. What. He offered you.”

  Xavier opened his mouth then closed it again. Cliff said it for him. “I paid his bond.” The two men exchanged a look. “And his gambling debts.”

  “Only out of necessity,” Xavier insisted. “I wanted to help you as soon as I heard, but how could I do that rotting in jail? And the debt to the bookies had to be paid in order to keep me alive long enough to get here. Here’s a secret: when those people say ‘your money or your life,’ they aren’t kidding.” He laughed weakly. “So it’s not that I’m being paid to be here, kiddo. I want to be here.”

  “You were paid,” Dimitri snapped. “I’m with Lizzie. This is ridiculous.”

  Dimitri was right. I could only imagine how much money Cliff had laid down to get my worthless father here.

  “Unless you can come up with something really, really good,” Dimitri added.

  Wait. “What?”

  Mom swept in with another tray of drinks. I wanted to sigh, or shout, or scream. This wasn’t an entertaining situation.

  Xavier kept his eyes on my big bad griffin. “I was briefed.”

  “By who?” I demanded.

  Mom stopped dead in her tracks. “By Gertrude, sweetheart.” At the look on my face, she grabbed a mimosa flute and took a long swig. “She and several of her people already had…words with your father. We asked them to do it outside so they wouldn’t wake you. By the end of it, she said if she had to stare at his face a moment longer, she’d do something she regretted, so she opted not to join in for this part.”

  “That’s not exactly what she said, Hil.” Cliff winced.

  My mom sniffed. “I’m not repeating those words. Good grief, she turned the air blue with her swearing.” She looked at me and said, “Literally blue, Lizzie. I didn’t even know that was a spell you folks could do.”

  “I didn’t either,” I told her.

  Xavier seemed to sense an opening. “If I wasn’t able to offer any help, I’d already be gone.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I believe,” I told him.

  His expression dropped, but he didn’t deny it. He took a step closer to me, then another. “You know your grandmother wouldn’t have any qualms about kicking me out if I was useless. But I know what needs to happen next, Lizzie. I know what you need to do to defeat this spirit.”

  I clutched the ward bag dangling from my wrist. It was still working—I was still alone in my head, but I knew the clock was ticking. I still felt that splinter deep inside my chest, keeping my powers from me. Silence didn’t change that.

  “What do you think I need to do?” I asked. I wasn’t too proud to deny help if he could actually offer any.

  His shoulders relaxed a little. “You’re going to have to travel between worlds to find the realm where the spirit is residing,” he said, as if it were as easy as a trip to the market. “Gertrude told me about the stunt with the scavenger. It’s closer to the truth than you’d think, only with the spirit itself as the target this time. Once you’re there, you need to sever the ties between yourself and the spirit.”

  Oh, sure. That was all. “The trick is, I don’t have access to my powers. I can’t protect myself. I can’t even sever anything.”

  It was ridiculous. I’d never had to deal with this before.

  Xavier smiled knowingly. “Powers work differently in the spirit realm. It’s a place of…” He closed his eyes for a moment, looking briefly rapturous. “Endless possibility.” He wore an expectant expression. “You might not be able to access your slayer abilities here, but the spirit realm is a place that deals in echoes. That’s all most spirits are, really—echoes of a person’s mortality. If you can summon up the feeling of using your powers, then you’ll get results.”

  “No kidding.” I shared a glance with Dimitri. It made sense.

  “You won’t be as strong as you’d be if your powers were still intact,” my bio dad added. “But you’ll have surprise on your side. That will help.”

  I took a flute off my mom’s tray then set it back down. “Why will they be surprised?”

  Xavier took a flute of his own. “Because you can’t get there without both me and the witches.” He took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Your spirit is in you. He knows we don’t talk. That you hate me. But he can’t see us right now.” His mouth tipped into a small calculating grin. “Any part I play in this will come as a complete surprise to him.”

  True.

  It was tempting, I had to admit. Taking the fight to the spirit could give me the advantage I needed. But there was still one big lingering question. “What do I need from you?”

  His gaze locked with mine. “I’m going to have to guide you there myself.”

  Oh no. H-E double hockey sticks times two, no.

  I reached for a drink again. Mom handed me a regular orange juice. “You think I’m going to trust you to lead me into a crazy spirit realm?” My dad really was nuts.

  “No one else in your group knows how to get there,” he countered. “The spirit realm is easy to access from this plane, but the act of transporting yourself there is another mess altogether.” He met Dimitri’s wilting stare and redirected his focus to me. “It’s like the difference between looking at a labyrinth from above versus being down in the middle of one. Without a guide, you won’t make it there, and without me to act as a tether back to this realm, you probably won’t make it back.”

  “That sounds like a threat,” Dimitri said flatly. I could see his fingers twitch, like he wished he had his dagger handy.

  “No threat.” Xavier held up his hands, like he were being arrested. Again. “I have nothing to gain from a double-cross. If we do this, my body will be left here along with Lizzie’s during the ritual. If I fail to bring her back, I’ll be surrounded by witches when I wake up.” He arched one eyebrow. “You think they’d just shake my hand and let me off with a ‘well, you tried’?”

  He had a point. Still, the thought of trusting him made my skin crawl. My father had never, not once, come through for me when I needed him. And now the stakes were higher than ever.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Dimitri urged me softly. “There has to be another way.”

  “Let me know when you come up with one,” Xavier said, too cocky for my taste. “In the meantime I’ll be grabbing a snack, waiting for you to come to your senses.”

  My mom had put out a tray of mini quiches, and Xavier began downing them.

  God, he was infuriating. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him wrong. “And you already talked to Grandma?” I asked sharply.

  “I did,” he said, not even bothering to turn around. “You can ask her yourself.”

  “She should have Mind Wiped him,” Dimitri muttered.

  “But she didn’t.” Xavier turned around, his hands full of quiche. “She didn’t tell me to leave, either.” His eyes seemed to soften slightly. “She knows I’m your best chance.”

  I felt pulled in too many directions. I needed to think, to weigh my options. I needed a moment to myself, at least mentally. I didn’t want to look like I was backing down either.

  My mom, the ultimate hostess, pr
ovided me with a respite. “I’ve got to plate a few dozen sandwiches in the kitchen,” she announced brightly. “Lizzie, come and help me. You can grab breakfast while you’re in there, too.”

  “Thanks. I think I’ll do that.” I squeezed Dimitri’s hand then turned and followed my mom into the kitchen.

  16

  The fridge was full of food, all of it plated, wrapped and loaded into the stainless steel doublewide like an ‘ultimate hostess’ version of Tetris. Hillary pulled out platters of premade sandwiches, cheese and crackers, shrimp cocktails and veggies with a half-dozen different types of dip.

  “Martha Stewart, eat your heart out,” I said, gazing around her immense, tasteful white and gray kitchen as she handed me a platter and went back in for another.

  “This was going to be for Dimitri’s party,” she said as we carried both trays to her massive kitchen island. “But it’s come in handy anyway,” she confided. “Your biker witch friends really like to eat.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I told her, refraining from giving too many details. She didn’t need details about Bob’s penchant for barbequed wildlife.

  Too bad that wasn’t my only problem. “About Dad,” I began, “and my other…dad—” I felt a sudden wave of light-headedness.

  “Here, honey, sit.” She led me to the reclaimed oak kitchen table, and a chair was behind me before I could stiffen my knees to keep standing. “Take a breath,” she instructed. “You came in here to calm down, so let’s do that. Then we can tackle the problem logically.”

  “I am logical,” I countered. I prided myself on my ability to plan, to think. “You don’t understand what I’ve had to deal with from that man.”

  “I know enough,” she said, reaching into the cabinet for a plate. “I’m also aware that you have great instincts…when you’re not too emotional to use them.”