The Last of the Demon Slayers

by Angie Fox

  She pulled out a pack of matches from her back pocket.

  I started for her. “Heavens to -”

  Dimitri’s hand clamped down on my arm. “Lizzie, you can’t interrupt.”

  “She’s going to torch my shirt!”

  “Here,” he said, starting to take off his.

  “I don’t want it,” I fired back, and instantly regretted it as his abs disappeared back under the black T-shirt.

  God bless America. I couldn’t win.

  Grandma held the flame over the last decent thing left in my wardrobe. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. This is going to work.”

  “I think it just did,” Dimitri said, pointing to a figure running headlong across the strawberry field.

  Holy heck. “Max!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grandma dropped the match.

  “Hey!” I leapt over the crystal barrier and stomped at the smoke curling from my only nice top. The three-pronged stick snapped under my boot, and I tried not to think of the spiders Grandma had added to the mix as I mashed the silk bustier into the dirt and slime and devil knew what.

  Was it too much to ask to get through one mission – just one – fully clothed?

  “Lizzie, stop!” Grandma charged over the barrier just as the entire mess gave a loud pop and belched blue fumes. “Your shoe’s on fire!”

  Silver flames erupted and I barely got my foot out before my boot – and my shirt - ignited like a fourth of July smoke bomb gone wrong.

  The silver wall blasted as high as my head and shimmered, forming a mirror. The flickering surface showed Max high-tailing it across a strawberry field.

  “Don’t wreck it,” Grandma frantically re-positioned the crystals I’d knocked over.

  “We don’t need it,” I shot back. And it almost toasted me.

  Heart hammering, I whirled around, hands on my hips my pink Victoria’s Secret Angel bra on display for the whole flipping camp.

  Max ran straight for us as if chased by the devil himself. “What the heck is he doing?”

  “I don’t see anyone behind him.” Dimitri handed me his shirt. This time I took it.

  Grandma scanned the sky. “No banshees.”

  “Or dregs,” I said, with rising concern. Dimitri’s shirt felt warm as I slipped it over my head.

  Max burst into camp. “Get down, get down!” He whirled me around by the shirt sleeve as I was still putting the thing on. That’s when I noticed the tiny blonde on his tail.

  Dimitri shoved me into the dirt as a blast of heat rocketed over us.

  Max sprawled on the ground next to me. “She’s going to kill us.”

  “What did you do?” I demanded.

  But he was already up and running again.

  I chased him because what the frick was I supposed to do? Spindly plants tore at my bare foot as I thundered after Max, with one boot on, one boot gone.

  He dove behind a yellow rainbow van as another blast of heat nearly fried us.

  I shoved a clump of hair out of my face. “Why is she trying to kill us?”

  “She’s a pissed off demon slayer.” He drew a red, churning switch star out of his belt. His hunter weapons were useless, though. He couldn’t throw them. He had to get close. “Damn.” He slammed the star into the side of the bus.

  I ducked. Sparks flew as it churned into the metal.

  Max drew another star. “I wish I had a gun.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Cut it out. You’re screwing up our cover. Besides, I’m the last of the demon slayers.”

  “Oh yeah?” Max asked, eyes wide, his hair spiking all over the place.

  I chanced a look and saw a petite blonde stalking toward our side of the bus. She couldn’t have been any older than me, with a pixie face and Marilyn Monroe hair tied up in a teal scarf. She wore a tailored white wrap-around shirt, flowered Capri pants and yow – four switch stars on her turquoise studded belt. She held a fifth star in her hot little hand.

  Shock zinged through me.

  “She’s a demon slayer.”

  “Told you,” Max drawled.

  Hells bells. Only demon slayers could touch, much less carry switch stars for any length of time. She had five, same as me. They were pink and rounded, the same as mine.

  “She should be on our side,” I said, my voice about two octaves higher.

  This is not how I envisioned a demon slayer reunion.

  Max moved quickly down the side of the bus. “Yeah well it’s the dreg. Roxie is usually the life of the party.”

  I snuck another glance around the front of the bus. She glared at me, cold and calculating. She was ten feet away. Tops. And drawing back to fire. “What do you mean?”

  Max gave a low whistle. “You should have seen her sing from the top of a table in the Tic-Tac Club,” he said, his voice low and husky, “unbelievable.”

  “Max!”

  The star slammed into the other side of the bus, rattling the widows – and us.

  Max drew a bowie knife from the back of his pants, holding it as he crouched low. “I had to find her. I was out of my mind. And not because she’s the best fuck I’ve had in the last hundred years.” He swallowed. “As soon as I saw her, the dreg flew up my throat and into her. Straight through her skin.”

  My insides ached, remembering the pain.

  Max ducked his head around the side of the bus and jerked back as a switch star screamed past. “The dreg compels you to kill the person that gave it to you. Then you have an insane urge to find another slayer and it goes on.”

  Wait. When I had the dreg, I hadn’t set out to kill anyone. Of course I’d kept it in a jar at the time. Still, “You didn’t want to kill me after I gave it to you.”

  “No offense, but you’re different. So am I.”

  No kidding.

  “Come on,” he hissed.

  I followed, lopsided on one bare foot as we moved behind a pink bus closer to the woods.

  “So she’s trying to kill you because you gave it to her?” I asked.

  He grinned. “She’s been trying to kill me since Prohibition.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  He shook his head. “Damn, she is hot.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s trying to murder us.” I could sense her drawing closer.

  “Hey,” I called out to her as she put a bus between herself and the biker witches. Smart slayer. Knowing the Red Skulls, they’d look for any chance to take a pot shot. “Put the weapon down,” I said, “let’s talk.”

  “Not a chance,” she said, fire in her eyes, her white blond hair blowing back with a sudden gust of wind. “I’m going to axe him.”

  I glanced back at Max. “You know what? Go ahead.”

  “Thanks,” Max muttered as I crouched behind him.

  “You asked for it,” I reminded him.

  My emerald necklace hummed against my neck.

  Oh who was I kidding? I was the only one who could face off against a demon slayer.

  It was such a waste - a stupid, senseless waste. I tugged off my boot and tossed it away.

  “Run. Hide,” I hissed to Max. “If I don’t make it, you don’t have a chance.” Not against demon-slayer weapons. She could wipe out the whole camp.

  Sacrifice yourself.

  I jumped out, firing.

  Grandma had run to get the witches, hopefully to get them out of the way. Dimitri looked ready to jump in between us and Max stared in horror.

  I shot low, hoping to clip her in the knee. She leaped in the air as my star streaked under her.

  Yow.

  Then she fired straight at my head. I ducked as the star slammed into the bus behind me. It forced me to miss my own star as it boomeranged toward me, screeching against the bus and whirling out into the night.

  Holy Hades. I was down a weapon, I realized, as hers sailed back.

  The crowd surged around us, but luckily not behind us. Dimitri looked ready to blow a gasket. I just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid, or heroic – one in the same a
t this point. He wasn’t a demon slayer. He couldn’t block our weapons. He couldn’t save me. I had to do this by myself.

  I’d save both of us, all of us – somehow.

  She stiffened, crying out as pain wracked through her body. I could see the dreg pulsing through her.

  The pain was excruciating. I knew first-hand.

  Is that what would have happened if Dimitri hadn’t saved me?

  The emerald grew hot on my neck, its copper chain snaking down. I always hated this part. It felt wrong and creepy and it usually meant I was in trouble.

  Nuts.

  The emerald and copper wound around my left side to form a barrier directly over my heart.

  Oh geez.

  She launched another switch star straight at my head.

  I watched it – every curve of the blades as it sawed through the air, straight for my neck. I drew my own switch star, fingers white in the handle and watched my arm release it in a perfect arc. The stars collided on the field between us, sizzling and crackling as they fell down dead.

  Three left.

  This was ridiculous. I didn’t want to kill one of the last of our kind. There had to be better way.

  The demon slayer drew again. She fired, I fired. Again, our stars collided over the field. Two left.

  My heart shoved against my chest. I needed my weapons. I couldn’t let her destroy my weapons.

  She fired again.

  I released again. We lost our weapons, sizzling and burning, tangled together smoking in the scrub brush and dirt.

  One left. She fired again. I had to stop this.

  Instead of firing back, I made a mad dash for the pink bus. I could feel the switch star whistling behind me as my bare feet dug into the dirt. If I could get behind the bus, maybe I could talk to her, reason with her while she tore it apart.

  But I wasn’t fast enough to outrun a switch star.

  It shrieked closer and I turned as it bore down on me, twisting blades and tearing metal. I fired, catching it an arm’s length from my head. Energy dropped on me like a blanket of electricity as the switch stars sparked and burned each other out.

  She drew again as I made it behind Grandma’s bus. I forced the world back into focus as I clutched the cold metal side.

  A switch star tore into the side of a bus with an inhuman screech. I listened to it rip through the metal side before soaring back to her.

  I ducked my head around as she caught it, ready to fire again.

  She stalked toward me, switch star drawn. Cripes.

  I was out of weapons.

  Witches scattered behind her. Dimitri began to shift.

  Oh no.

  He’d better not try to save me.

  I ducked behind the bus. Back flat against the cold metal, aware of her every step crunching the sage grass as she drew near enough to be very, very lethal.

  Okay, think, think, think.

  What could I use as a weapon?

  A hand slammed around the bus, switch star churning as it bore down on me.

  I screamed.

  Energy rocked through me, sizzling down my spine and driving me to the ground. My arms gave out. My legs wouldn’t work. I lay there with my face in the dirt, amazed I was even alive.

  Pain seared my chest.

  I should be dead. I should be torn open.

  Rolling onto my back, I lay weak, my limbs refusing to obey me. The copper plate throbbed over my heart as I fought for breath.

  Leave it to Dimitri. His necklace, with its protective magic, had saved me. At least for now.

  I tried to move my arm, somehow find a star, but I could barely move.

  Tears welled in my eyes. Frick. I wasn’t a crier. I was a slayer. I was just so hurt and tired and frustrated. This was wrong, so wrong.

  The other slayer stood above me. I stared right into her blue eyes, the picture shifting through my tears. “You’re not a killer,” I told her, praying no one got close enough to see what might happen to me.

  “I’m not,” she said, regret in her voice as she drew a star. “But you’re not letting me kill Max. And you’re going to die anyway. We all are.”

  I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t move. “You’re stronger than the compulsion,” I insisted. “You’re a demon slayer.” She had to understand. “If you kill me, we’ll all be weaker. We’ll never defeat this.”

  She shook her head, her pain on display. “We can’t defeat it. It’s over. After this, I’ll infect my sister.” Her voice quivered. “I know where she is.” Her hand shook, still holding the star, ready to fire. “Mags will kill me. Then she’ll die.”

  No. We had to fight. “We can stop the one who started this, and the dreg will die. You can save your sister.” And yourself.

  “Stay back,” she ordered as the crowd approached behind her. Then to me, she asked, desperate, “How do you know?”

  “I survived the dreg. You and your sister can too,” I added, hoping I was right.

  The weakness I felt had turned into an intense, knife-like throbbing. It was as if my entire body had lost circulation and was now coming back.

  A massive griffin swooped overhead. Dimitri. His immense lion’s claws gleamed against the setting sun as he prepared to dive.

  Don’t. I lifted my hand.

  Please. He couldn’t stop her. I could.

  She saw. “Touch me and the slayer dies!”

  Dimitri dove low on colorful wings, his claws scraping the air inches from her head as he took to the air once more.

  “How did you survive the dreg?” She demanded. “You should be mad with the compulsion.”

  I tried to sit up, my arms screaming in protest. “I was made, not born,” I said through gritted teeth.

  She stared at me for a long moment. “So you’re the one.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She holstered her star and held out a hand. “Roxie.”

  I took it, still on the ground, giving her the limpest handshake in history. “Lizzie.” I grunted as I sat up. “Thanks for not killing me.”

  She stared at me. “The day’s not over yet.”

  Oh lordy.

  She stood over me, tense. “I’m fighting this as hard as I can. I don’t know how long I can last.”

  “Let’s figure this out,” I said, staggering to my feet.

  “Lizzie!” Pirate ran at me so fast he smacked up against my shin. He bounced off, scrambled to his feet and leapt up against my leg, his claws scratching.

  “Lizzie! I was trying to get to you and Bob held me down and I couldn’t get out of his lap and I saw you needed me” - he didn’t even pause when I scooped him up under the tummy - “I barked and then I barked and I barked.” He twisted around to face me. “Are you okay because you don’t look so good.”

  I nuzzled against his warm doggie neck, keeping an eye on Roxie the entire time. “I’m just fine.” For now. I wasn’t about to let my guard down around a demon slayer with a death wish.

  Dimitri landed a short distance away and began to shift. Feathers in blue, green and purple folded over on themselves. He fairly shimmered as his lion’s body morphed to reveal a broad, muscled back, lean legs and oh my word we were going to have a naked griffin on our hands in a couple of minutes.

  Make that an angry, naked griffin.

  I knew Dimitri would be pissed. He got that way when people shot at me.

  On this occasion, however, we needed to use some restraint. I’d finally gotten Roxie talking instead of attacking. We had to keep her engaged, learn what she knew and figure out what in bloody Hades we were going to do next.

  Grandma pushed through the advancing crowd of biker witches, a red jar in her hand.

  It was a death spell. She marched up to Roxie, chin thrust up and fire in her eyes. “Give me one good reason why I don’t bust a cap in your ass right now.”

  Roxie drew a switch star.

  “Stop it,” I said. Needles of pain shot down my legs as I forced them to start working. Crab walking, I insert
ed myself between them. “Cut it out.” The weight of Pirate got to be too much and I set him down.

  “I need a minute!” I said to Grandma, to Neal who had somehow produced a shotgun (what about hippies and peace?), to the witches who had gathered behind Grandma, jelly jars ready to fire.

  “The fight is over. We’re talking now.” I sure hoped Roxie didn’t recognize the jars as weapons or our tête-à-tête could be finished before it started.

  Even my fingertips tingled. Wincing, I pointed to the chewed up wreck behind me.

  “Give us five minutes in this bus,” I said, knowing they’d give me about two.

  Frieda chewed her gum. “Yeah, uh, that’s my bus and you ripped the side out.”

  “Use mine,” Grandma said, watching us with cold calculation. She knew that I needed time with Roxie. She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood.

  “Explain it to Dimitri,” I said, limping toward Grandma’s bus, happy for once to give someone else an impossible job.

  My legs had turned to rubber. I hoped I wouldn’t trip over a clump of scrub, or fall in a hole. A demon slayer has to keep up appearances.

  Roxie fell into step next to me. “You have some strange friends.”

  I sized her up. “And even stranger enemies.”

  Danged if she didn’t look like a 1950s Hollywood starlet, or a Banana Republic model. Not bad for a girl who had to be at least 112 years old.

  What was she anyway?

  It bothered me to no end that figuring it out wasn’t even on my top-ten list of things to do today.

  So you’re some kind of supernatural creature. So what? We have work to do.

  Grandma’s yellow school bus shifted as we climbed the stairs. Privacy, at last. I wrinkled my nose at the smell – dust, mildew and spiced orange incense.

  If Grandma thought her Wild Ass Gertie’s Citrus Combustion sticks were covering anything up, she needed to re-tool her sniffer. I held a blue and yellow tie-dyed curtain back for Roxie.

  She paused. A furrow creased the perfectly smooth skin between her eyebrows. And dang, that woman had the longest, thickest eyelashes I’d ever seen. “You first,” she said, peering into the bus, switch star drawn.