by Angie Fox
The engineering witch ambled off the porch, presumably to go catch some.
I turned to Grandma. “I find it interesting that you’ll brew up spells to protect us, but you won’t build a Cave of Visions so that I can see who is trying to kill me.”
“She does have a point,” Creely called. “We’d be attacking the source of the problem.”
“She’d want to go,” Grandma said, her eyes boring into me.
I met her harsh glare. “I need to go in.” I didn’t have a choice.
Grandma gave a long look, stirred the pot, then caught my eye again. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll build it. I go in.”
“I’m the demon slayer,” I told her.
She drew her chin up. “My coven.”
I’d have to figure out a way to get in around her.
“Frieda!” Grandma called. The blonde witch’s head popped up in the rose garden. “I need some turtle knees on the double. Send Ant Eater after the lizards and the Girl Scout Cookies. See if you can get Thin Mints. Meanwhile, I’ll recon some shelter.”
Fantastic. It was really happening. For the first time, I felt like we were on the right track. “Thanks, Grandma. I feel better.”
She gave me a stern look. “You won’t in a second.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The door banged open behind me. “Lizzie Brown.” My mother stood, hands on her hips, a disapproving glare directed at me. “Your wedding shower was supposed to start two hours ago.”
As if I had time for presents and party talk. “I was dealing with demon slayer things, mom.”
It didn’t appease her in the slightest. “Are you finished?” she prompted.
I glanced at Grandma. “Pretty much.” At least until they built the Cave of Visions. “How long is it going to take to get the cave going?”
Grandma sipped her beer. “Two, three hours.”
“Well then come in the house,” mom ordered, “I’ll get everyone back together and get a new batch of coffee going.”
Grandma snarfed as I followed my mom into the house. “Have fun with your tea towels.”
Ha. I’d just be happy if nobody tried to poison me.
I should have known to be careful what I wished for.
Chapter Eighteen
My mom had decorated the sitting room in true Hillary Brown style. She’d dressed the coffee tables in lace and scattered several generations of silver-framed family wedding photos over them. She’d topped end tables with vases of white roses, tied with aqua bows. Several decorative dress mannequins, upholstered in silk, wore mom’s collection of vintage lingerie.
Because, you know, that’s exactly what I needed right now.
Most of Dimitri’s relatives were already seated, and about half of the biker witches gathered on the low-slung couches and chairs. I guess you didn’t need an entire coven to build a Cave of Visions.
“This is your place,” mom said, leading me through the various seating groupings to a chair across from the bay window.
Our guests were talking among themselves, excited even. Everything felt so normal, at least for me. I was used to living in Hillary’s world. Still, I couldn’t help but glance at the spot where I’d nearly been killed the last time we’d all gotten together like this.
“There’s too much sun over by the window,” my mom said, mistaking my interest. “We don’t want you back-lit in the photos.”
The horror of it.
Dimitri entered from the foyer as I was getting ready to sit. He wore a rich blue button down with black pants and looked, in a word, delicious.
I dodged my chair and went to give him a quick kiss, which turned into a longer kiss. He felt great.
A few of his in-laws giggled and I could feel my mom’s disapproval boring into my back.
The saucy grin he gave me made it all worth it.
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, growing serious. “How are you doing? I heard the witches are working on the Cave of Visions.”
I rested my hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of him under his crisp shirt. “Only once I’d like to try and get something past you.”
“I’m going in with you,” he said, as if it were a done deal.
Never in a million years. But I wasn’t about to get into it with him in front of a room full of people. “We’re doing my bridal shower first,” I said, hoping to put him off. Maybe I’d be finished with the witches before he even realized it.
But he didn’t leave, like he usually did at the start of most any estrogen-inspired pre-wedding event.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, exchanging a wave with Aunt Ophelia as he led me to a chair festooned with bows.
I didn’t get it. “What’s your angle?” I asked, sitting. He stood behind me, showing no signs of an imminent escape.
Dimitri leaned close, his lips against my ear. “I have a rule,” he said, his warm breath caressing my skin. “I stick close when my fiancé is about to open a present from someone who wants to kill her.”
Good point.
My mom stood watching us, chewing at her immaculately glossed bottom lip. “This is really a girls’ event…The rest of your male relatives are,” she struggled to sound casual, “well, they’re drag racing. In the sky. Or so I’m told.” When Dimitri showed no signs of budging, mom—bless her heart—decided to roll with it.
“All right,” she said, addressing the guests, “we are so glad to have you ladies here at our last big event before Lizzie and Dimitri walk down the aisle. While this isn’t exactly how we’d planned it, what with it being four hours late, and the mini smiling bride ice sculptures having melted and the hors d’oeuvres eaten hours ago…when we thought we were going to start…” She looked a bit lost before regrouping. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We are all together now, and we have so many wonderful gifts for Lizzie and Dimitri.”
I tried to smile at the smattering of polite applause. In truth, it made me a little uncomfortable to be the center of attention. A bit guilty, too, because my guests didn’t need to get me anything. A lot of them had already spent a fortune coming here. They’d stayed, even after my mom had unveiled her party schedule. And they wanted the best for me. There was nothing else I could ask. Besides, it’s not like Dimitri and I were setting up house. We were still holed up at a safe house/hippie commune owned by Grandma’s friend, Neal.
Mom had stacked our gifts onto a small table. The dress mannequin behind it wore her wedding dress, with the one bared arm and the silk skirt. It was a subtle, yet direct barb. I chose to ignore it. I’d sooner wear the antique lingerie down the aisle.
The eyes of the room were on me as mom handed me the first gift, a large and heavy box wrapped in silver paper.
It had to weigh at least fifty pounds, and it took up my entire lap. “Thank you,” I said, determined to enjoy it. I noticed the wedding bell pattern on the wrapping paper. How sweet.
Aunt Ophelia stood, “It is from the entire Rhodos clan!” She announced to stomping feet and cheers.
Dimitri moved in next to me, his hands curled into fists, his body tense.
This was his own clan. Still, if he was worried, I needed to proceed with caution as well.
My breath came a little quicker as I opened the box. I dug through the tissue paper to reveal a bronze, triangular-shaped shield, as long as my arm and as wide as my entire chest.
The Greeks let out a collective, “Ooooo.”
I tried to hold it up, but frankly it was difficult with the box on my lap and the sheer size and weight of it. The metal was decorated with fancy scrollwork and pictures of deer, and it didn’t have any handle inside that would make it a shield. Instead, buckles dangled from the edges.
“I love it!” I said.
“You do?” Ophelia pressed.
“I do!” I said, wondering how rude it would be to follow up with a What is it?
Diana rescued me. “This is a piece of griffin armor,” she said, turning it aroun
d in my hands, so that the point end was toward the top. Lovely. I’d been holding it upside down. “It’s meant to protect the right wing in battle,” she added, taking it from me with an apologetic glance.
“I have never owned anything like it,” I said, truthfully.
“What is she going to do with that?” I heard a few of the biker witches muttering.
“It’s tradition,” Ophelia shot back. “A bride gets her armor before the wedding. How else is she supposed to have it for her wedding night?”
“She needs armor on her wedding night?” Hillary asked.
“Why not?” I asked. It might not go with the sexy little outfit I’d bought, but we’d improvise.
When it was all said and done, I’d unwrapped two wing pieces, a breastplate, a collar (for wedding night fun, according to Ophelia), and a set of bronze tipped spikes for my front and back claws.
Hillary may have leaned on Diana once or twice for support, but she remained remarkably composed. Go Mom.
Dimitri, on the other hand, stalked behind me like a caged beast.
On the way to handing me another gift, his sister Dyonne knocked him with her elbow. “Do you mind? You’re making everyone nervous.”
“You could have fooled me,” he said, alert as he surveyed the room. It was true. While we definitely had two camps: the bikers and the Greeks, they seemed remarkably at ease, given what had gone down with the wedding dress.
Then again, they didn’t know everything else that was happening in the house, or even among themselves.
Melody, the Red Skull’s new head of weapons stood. “Now this is more like it,” she said, as Diana handed me a canvas, bedazzled Wal-Mart bag. Glass clinked inside.
Dimitri glared at the witch with the spiky black velvet choker. He seemed ready to strike as I drew out a recycled Smuckers jar filled with a brackish green liquid.
“Protection,” she said, “for your wedding night.”
The biker witches laughed, and I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.
“Toss it at anything that attacks you,” she said, quite serious. “It’s set to stun.”
“Thanks,” I said, well aware that this was the first gift I’d gotten that I could actually use.
The next jar was full of a pinkish sludge with bits of leaves and flower petals stuck in it.
“Ahhh,” the witches murmured.
“What is this?” I asked, detecting a faint smell of turpentine.
Flava, a skinny witch in a black miniskirt, crossed her legs and grinned at me. “Dab a little behind each ear whenever you want to get him in the mood,” she said, winking. “Works like a charm.”
The biker witches guffawed. I glanced up at Dimitri, who didn’t appear too enthused.
But you know what? This was nice. I opened a Tie Him Up spell, a Tie Him Down spell, some lavender bubble bath.
Everyone who could be here was together. I was receiving some interesting, well-intentioned gifts, and so far, nobody had tried to kill me.
It was a good party.
The gift table was almost empty when my mom handed me an envelope. “I’m glad you’re here for this, too,” she said, patting Dimitri on the shoulder.
He might be man-of-stone, but I couldn’t help getting choked up a bit when I opened the simple, cut-out-card of a bride and groom and found the deed to a condominium by the shore.
“Mom, this is too much.” It was off the California coast, near where we were staying with the witches. Only it was our own place. Tears flooded my eyes as I reached for her, wrapping her in a tight hug. She exhaled, holding me close.
“I only want what’s best for you, honey.”
“But you said…” She’d wanted me to move back and be somebody else and live in Atlanta, and I couldn’t do that.
“I changed my mind,” she said, simply. “You changed it.” She glanced up at Dimitri. “I hope this is okay.”
“It’s perfect,” he said, smiling down at her. “Thank you.”
“We’ll have to ward it,” Melody said.
Yes, well she was the weapons expert. But that was a technicality. Yes, we’d make sure it was safe, and yes, we’d make it our own once we were back from the honeymoon. That’s not what made it so special. It was the fact that my mom bought it for us.
“Your father still has to sign the papers, but he gets in tomorrow,” mom said.
“So you did this last minute,” I said. Of course she did. She never would have considered something like this even a week ago.
She gave a small shrug and seemed to grow embarrassed. “Now,” she said, moving over to the gift table, “let’s see what else we have for you.”
“I’ve already gotten so much,” I said. It was the truth.
Mom smiled and I could see she was genuinely having a good time. “This one is so pretty,” she said, handing me a pink wrapped box with tiny doves on top.
Dimitri tensed as I opened the white silk ribbon and tore through the paper. I hadn’t even touched the lid of the box before it flew open. Mom shrieked. Dimitri roared as countless shards of God-knows-what hurled straight for my face.
He leapt in front of me, taking the brunt of the blast as we both rocketed backward.
“Curses!” Melody screamed, as spell jars broke and griffins bellowed.
I shoved Dimitri off me as the curses shot to the ceiling like demented wasps. I cut through them with a switch star as a swarm dive-bombed me.
Chaos erupted. Dimitri was down, bloodied. I stood in front of him, taking out as many as I could before he grabbed my legs and took me down, rolling me under his body as another wave struck.
“God damn it,” I pounded against his chest. I needed to fight. I rolled him, forcing him onto his back, which scared the hell out of me because the only way I could pull that off is if he were really hurt.
But I needed to move, to think. Curses came from the underworld. They’d either kill you or take you straight to hell. I didn’t know what kind we had on our hands, but I didn’t want to find out.
The fact that Dimitri was still, here, among the living mean that these things were meant for me.
A demon wanted me.
Well, screw that. I hit the curses again. And again. Taking some out, leaving far, far too many.
My eyes stung from spell dust, and griffin magic, and the sheer power glut in the room. But nothing we’d done so far had destroyed enough of these things to make a difference.
One of them could end me.
They gathered at the ceiling, ready to strike again. There was no way I could get out, nowhere to go. Not without leaving my friends and family behind. Besides, these things would catch me, and I wasn’t about to be nailed in the back.
The third wave descended.
Dimitri tried to stand. I deliberately stepped away from him, toward them, and readied myself for the attack.
Chapter Nineteen
I ran for my wedding gifts. The griffin armor lay in a pile under gift bags and spell jars. Curses whistled through the air behind me as I heaved a piece of bronze wing armor from under the mess and forced it in front of me like a shield. I held tight to the inside buckles, the metal digging into my skin when the blunt force of multiple curses slammed against it.
They threw me back, knocked me onto my side. I curled my legs underneath and clutched the armor in front of me like my life depended on it. Because it did.
Curses sprayed like a hail of machine gun fire. Then, abruptly, the attack ended.
A suffocating stench clouded the air and the silence that accompanied it was almost as scary as the flying curses. My mouth felt dry, and my arms were weak and shaking.
“Lizzie?” My mom was the first to reach me, crawling on her hands and knees, her white pants suit stained with soot, the pink rose dangling lifelessly. “Are you all right, baby?”
“Hold up.” Slowly, I lowered my shield. I drew a switch star for good measure, but there was nothing left to attack. The curses lay imbedded in the griffin armor, dead.<
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The room reeked of magic, and I saw spots for a second as the witches and the griffins collected themselves off the floor. I crawled over to Dimitri, who looked like hell.
The curses had sliced his face and arms. His shirt was a total loss, and he had one hand over his left shoulder.
“Give me a second,” he said, laying on his back, recovering.
I hovered over him, tried to remove his hand from his shoulder. “Can I see it?”
“No,” he said, resisting.
Men.
I ran my fingers through his hair, which was probably the only part of his body that didn’t hurt. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said, hoping I was right, infinitely grateful he’d stayed for the shower. He’d saved my life. Again.
My mom joined me. “Oh, my,” she said, looking down at him. “I think I have some Band-Aids upstairs.”
He shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding glance, but didn’t answer.
I stood and helped mom to her feet, Diana as well. The griffins and witches were all starting to recover—more or less. At least no one appeared seriously injured. I wasn’t feeling too steady myself, when Mom pounced on me with a surprise embrace.
She managed to catch me on the side. “You have an awful, awful job,” she sniffed against my shoulder.
“It’s not usually this bad,” I lied. I hated that she had to see this.
She pulled back. “Someone wants to kill you!”
I couldn’t argue with her there. It happened more often than I cared to admit.
Melody was over opening windows. I was glad to see Dimitri had decided to sit up. That’s when Frieda burst in the room.
“Sweet Jesus!” The blond biker witch spun on her heel. “I knew it.” She turned to holler at someone behind her. “Get in here! I told you I smelled magic.”
Ant Eater swore under her breath when she saw the mess.
She side-stepped Frieda as the other witch began helping people into chairs. “You can’t hear a thing inside this latest Cave of Visions,” Frieda muttered to herself.
Ant Eater was more interested in me. “What happened?”
