by Angie Fox
Grandma whistled under her breath. “How long did the demon have you?” she asked Rachmort.
He tugged at his goatee. “What month is it?”
She raised her brows. “March.”
“Two months then.” He blew out a breath.
Wow. He’d been taken almost the moment he’d left us in Greece.
He waved off our concern. “There’s no time for that. Although I will thank you, Lizzie. And you, Xavier, for rescuing me. That was a fine piece of work. Most impressive.” He winked. “Now.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “The demon wants you dead, Lizzie. I heard him talking. He’s made it his mission to eliminate the slayers.”
Thanks for the reminder. “Roxie and I figured that out.”
“Roxie?” He beamed with surprise. “She’s alive?”
That’s right. He didn’t know. “I’m not the last demon slayer.” To see his expression you would have thought it was Christmas morning, Easter and his birthday wrapped into one.
“There are six others,” I told him, “including Roxie. They went into hiding.”
“Brilliant!” He beamed. “I knew I trained them well.”
Yeah, well training only got you so far. “We have a problem. Roxie’s infected with a dreg. She’s afraid she’s going to pass it on to her sister.”
“Yes, yes,” he said. You could see the wheels turning in his mind. “We’ll protect them. We’ll make it our mission to stop the dregs and eliminate Zatar.”
Dad started coughing. Hard.
“Are you all right?” He looked terrible. His eyes had gone glassy, his breathing was shallow and the cuts on his chest had begun to ooze.
“I’ll take him back,” Neal slipped an arm under Dad’s uninjured shoulder. “We’ll snap that joint back into place too. Come on, buddy.” The Bohemian bane of my existence was actually quite gentle as he helped my dad back to his feet. Neal didn’t even flinch at the blood or the smell. He gave Dad a reassuring smile. “We’ll find you a comfortable spot on your very own bus.”
“I’ll come check on you,” I called after them, grateful for once to have Neal around.
Grandma whistled under her breath. “That man has the finest ass.”
And I was grateful no longer.
“Okay,” I said to Grandma and Rachmort, “let’s plan our attack here. We need to get rid of the dregs and get Zatar off our backs. Let’s think of a way to do it.”
I didn’t know if I was strong enough to kill Zatar, but I was positive I didn’t have a clue about how to eliminate a dreg.
“We can do what Evie did,” Grandma said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“How do you know what Evie did?” My Great Great Great Aunt Evie might have been one of the greatest demon slayers of all time, but she died in 1883.
Grandma thwacked me on the arm. “Roxie came back here after you went to purgatory without her. She’s pissed about that, by the way. But she brought with her that diary you found.”
“So Evangeline was Evie.”
I’d hoped, but I hadn’t been able to take a long enough look at the book to be sure. Talk about knowledge. This could change everything. I wondered what my Dad had planned to do with Evie’s diary – and how he came across the book in the first place.
“I was reading it when Neal suggested a walk.”
Among other things.
“Lizzie, pay attention,” Grandma ordered.
“I am paying attention,” I snapped.
“Old people have sex,” Grandma said.
Oh my god.
“Yes, they do!” Rachmort added.
“Please. Stop. Let’s just talk about the diary.”
Grandma huffed. “Exactly. I didn’t memorize the details, but I know Evie could create a portal so specific to a demon that it stripped him of the magic things he had with him.”
Wait. “I thought necromancers created portals.”
“We do.” He began polishing his glasses on his gold waistcoat. “In fact, it’s much easier for someone like me to bridge the gaps between the worlds of the living and the dead. Part of the job, you could say.” He held his glasses up to the moonlight. “But it’s not impossible for you. Not at all. I tried to teach Evie portals. Years ago. Didn’t know it took.” He leaned close. “If you can re-create Evie’s portal, you could banish Zatar and force him to release his dregs.”
Hope blossomed. “I can do that? I could eliminate the dregs?”
“It sure sounds like it!” Rachmort exclaimed with no small amount of glee. He grew somber. “Of course, we’d have to catch them.”
Great. Dregs on the loose. Provided I could even pull this off. I hoped Dimitri was ready. And still talking to me.
Rachmort put on his glasses and blinked a few times, testing them. “Your great aunt was a feisty one, always trying to improve on things. She exploded my hand-cranked Demon Duster. Kaboom! You should have seen it,” he mused. “She sent my canoe to Hades… But I never knew she’d caught on.” Rachmort clapped his hands, delighted. “Evie was special. Just like you.”
“Ah, so now it’s tradition.” I kind of liked that. And it would be fun to create the kind of portal that could strip Zatar of those dregs and any other magic he happened to be holding.
“Where do you think we should send him?” I asked. “Personally, I’d prefer to impale him on one of the ice peaks of Hades.”
“Excellent idea,” Rachmort boomed. “Drag him deeper than you’ve ever gone.”
How could I send him to a place I’d never even seen?
“This is starting to sound more and more impossible.” My brain started to buzz, like it always did when I was thinking about the details upon details involved in pulling off an insurmountable task.
“Just remember the demon slayer truths, Lizzie!” Rachmort said.
Accept the Universe. Look to the Outside. Sacrifice Yourself.
I knew Rachmort was trying to be helpful, but truly, he was directing this. He wasn’t the one who was going to stand toe-to-toe with a creature that wanted to kill him and try to use magic he’d never known existed until now, with oh wait – about three hours to prepare.
Hells bells. My head was starting to hurt. “You know what? While I’m at it, let’s strip Zatar of his power and kill him too.”
“No,” Rachmort, “let’s not innovate. We know this works. We have to count on what we know.”
Oh, please. “I was joking.”
Rachmort didn’t get it. “This feels like old times,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I always enjoy spending time with demon slayers.”
Glad one of us was having fun.
He caught my dirty look. “What? Will grumbling help us trap Zatar?”
No, but at least I understood it.
Grandma tapped her silver ringed fingers together. “Now, what about the dreg in Roxie?”
“Well,” I considered, “what if I make a smaller portal? We could toss her across the field and pull the dreg out?”
“Yes, yes,” Rachmort mumbled, tugging at his mustache.
“It’ll be a test run,” I said. And I needed all the practice I could get.
Rachmort nodded. “It will also help us determine what to do with a live dreg.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “As long as you keep Max away from it.”
“Dimitri can handle it,” Grandma said. “He seemed to take care of the last dreg pretty well.”
I nodded, my stomach flip flopping at the thought – Dimitri. He was going to kill me for running out on him like I had.
“Okay, so we use Evie’s formula to create demon-sucking portals,” Rachmort said. “Lizzie flings Zatar to hell and Dimitri helps us clean up the dregs.”
“My dad also has something called demon dust.”
Rachmort tapped his glasses against his chin. “Hmm…not much use outside of purgatory, but it might help keep Zatar in one spot. We’ll have to see.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “We’d be
tter get moving.” We had less than three hours.
“I’ll go find Roxie,” Rachmort offered.
Grandma grinned. “I’ll convene the biker witches.”
Rachmort leaned way too close into my personal space. “Leave it to Evie to think of something like this. She was always surprisingly practical. Just like you.” He slapped me on the back and headed off.
“Wait,” I called after him. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No worries,” he called, “I can find Roxie.”
“He’s a pistol,” Grandma said almost to herself. Then to me, “I’ll drop you off at the cemetery.”
“Excuse me?”
“To get Evie’s main ingredient. You have to do it since you’re the slayer.”
“This better not take long.” I cringed at what kind of an ingredient we’d find in a graveyard. “What am I looking for?”
“A single white rose mallow,” Grandma instructed.
“Ah yes.” I nodded. “What?”
“The soul flower,” she explained, leading me farther into the scrub desert. “It blooms over graves that a contented spirit has recently visited. Believe me you’ll know it when you see it.”
“I didn’t think ghosts in graveyards were content.”
“These aren’t ghosts. These are souls who watch over their loved ones, and us. The soul flower is simply a gesture to show they’ve checked up on us.”
I didn’t get it. “There’s power in a gesture?”
“Of course there is, Lizzie.”
If she didn’t stop grinning, I was going to smack her.
“What if there aren’t any of these flowers?” What if the souls were busy?
We needed a soul flower now. Preferably in the next five minutes.
Grandma tisked. “This is the Aquarius Ranch we’re talking about. You can practically feel the love.”
The most annoying thing about it was that Grandma was right. I knew she was talking about Neal. But it was true that the Aquarius Ranch held positive energy. I could feel the power and the influence of those who had lived and worked here, especially as we climbed up a low slope and stood on a small overlook at the edge of the mountain.
The moon was bright tonight, shining over the gravestones scattered across the scrubby field. Some were traditional upright tombstones. Other graves were marked with chunks of sandstone or painted rock. Twirling fish, peace signs and even a set of large red lips decorated the graves. It was a place of remembrance and celebration rather than mourning.
Someone had even carved a large totem, with fish and birds and topped by a blazing sun.
“The older, pioneer graves are on the far end,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll make it that far, though. These hippies like to wander, but they always come back.”
“Gotcha,” I said, already looking for the white soul flower.
“I’ll gather the rest of the ingredients. Rachmort will definitely handle Roxie. Let’s meet back at the buses in an hour. If I need you sooner, I’ll send up a red flare. Head straight this way,” she pointed toward the direction Rachmort had headed, “and you’ll be back at camp in five minutes.”
“Sounds good,” I said, moving on to another painted tomb rock.
So it all came down to this – my ancestor and her ability to discover new things and write them down. I vowed to keep adding chapters to the manual I’d begun.
“Thanks, Evie,” I murmured. “If you could stick around to help with the actual portal, I’d be even more grateful.”
I weaved in and out of the tombs, nudging the scrub brush with my Birkenstock sandal, hoping to find the elusive white flower.
It felt surreal to be in a place of positive energy and beauty when so recently I’d been in the gray world of purgatory. In a way, I was glad I’d been sucked down. It was one more world I’d beaten, one more thing I’d survived.
If I could handle myself against Zatar once, maybe I could do it again. Maybe I really could fling a portal at him that would send him to hell for eternity.
I knew I had to try.
Weaving in and out of the graves, I read the inscriptions, loving words about people who had lived good lives.
You saw the positive.
You loved us all.
And on a grave painted with rainbows. You opened your heart.
That last one stung. I wished I could be that way. I didn’t want to be scared. But with all of the pain and suffering in our world – and in others – how could a person open their heart without getting it ripped out?
I bent down to caress a dried flower on the rainbow grave when I heard Dimitri behind me.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Chapter Twenty
Dimitri towered over me, more furious than I’d ever seen him. His shoulders shook and the edge of his jaw could split rocks. “Banshee got your tongue? You had to know I’d come looking for you.” He ground out every word. “Now why the hell did you leave?”
Like he was one to talk. “I had things to do.” He had to understand what was going on here. I couldn’t wait around for Dimitri, not when griffin politics trumped getting my dad out of a bad situation. “Face it. We’re going in two different directions right now.”
His eyes flared. “That’s your decision.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious. “You think I have a choice in this?”
If I’d had my say, I’d be on a sunny beach in Greece with Dimitri. He’d be rubbing suntan oil on my back…and perhaps a few other places. But no. I was standing here in a hippie graveyard looking for a flower I’d never heard of in order to send demons to hell using a spell that we weren’t even sure worked.
Which was just lovely because Zatar was on his way no matter what.
“This is bigger than us,” I snapped. “In fact, I don’t even know why I’m standing here talking to you when I have a flower to find.”
Dimitri about fell over. “I’m worried sick about you and you’re out here looking for flowers?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this without you.” But now I couldn’t seem to stop.
He sighed. “What do we need?”
A white soul flower.”
“This had better be important,” he said, scanning the ground at his feet.
Yeah, I’d already looked there. “It is.”
“Grandma again?”
“Something like that.”
I kept my eyes on the ground as we walked through the motley collection of graves. I didn’t own my time. We were on a countdown to a demon attack. Dimitri was the leader of his griffin clan and he couldn’t fritter around either – tonight or any other night. The stakes were huge and that meant we didn’t have the kind of choices other people did.
Dimitri moved so close to me we were practically touching. He’d found another shirt. So now we were both wearing a large black T-shirt, although I had to admit he wore it a lot better. “I can’t do this if you’re not going to let me be your partner.”
“Why do you even want to be my partner? You don’t belong here.”
I saw the hurt in his eyes, and I wanted to take it back. But I couldn’t. It was true.
Didn’t he understand?
When I’d left him, I’d felt guilt down to my toes. Now? Maybe it was for the best.
Yes, we had something extraordinary. I’d never met anyone who could be so purely good and strong, or so loyal. But that didn’t mean he had to give up his life for me. His tie to me was making him blind to the differences between our two worlds.
He was here, in this graveyard, instead of taking care of the family who needed him.
He was a griffin, the leader of his clan and he had to be that. He couldn’t change or he wouldn’t be Dimitri. He was endangering himself and them by lingering here.
I was a demon slayer. I couldn’t back away from that, either. I wanted to be a slayer and a terrible, horrible, guilty part of me didn’t want to change any part of my role – even for Dimitri.
>
I needed to be true to myself. I had a history now, a tradition. My Great Great Great Aunt was a legendary slayer and that was something to live up to.
For the first time in my life I knew who I was, and I couldn’t give that up.
And thus, we were at a crossroads that neither of us wanted, neither of us planned. But we couldn’t deny the reality of it.
Dimitri knew. I could see the fear behind his fury, and the hurt that had kept him from saying anything else.
“Help me find a white flower,” I said, retreating farther into the cemetery. Grandma said I’d know it when I saw it.
We crunched through the scrub in silence. The graves were older back here. I saw the worn wooden tips of pioneer markers.
“Look,” I said, working to keep my voice steady, “I know you’re leaving.”
We were fooling ourselves if we thought this was going to last, really last.
I saw the shock in his eyes and quietly broke his gaze. It was too painful to see him like this. So instead I focused on the bright painted tombstones of people who had already lived fully and loved deeply.
My gut churned. It wasn’t always fun to be practical, to be able to recognize things for what they were. I wanted Dimitri with all my heart, but I could see the bare facts of the matter too.
As much as we don’t want to admit it to ourselves, sometimes love just isn’t enough.
I dropped my hands to my sides. “I love you, Dimitri.” He had to see that. I needed him to understand. “I’m not going to let you destroy your family for me.” His sisters deserved better. “I love them too much.”
He closed the space between us, his anger gone. “I love them too. And I don’t see why I have to choose.”
“You can’t have it both ways. You have to leave me.” I could feel his heat as he stared down at me. Shards of moonlight fell hard on the angles of his face.
He was so beautiful, so perfect it almost hurt. “I know you have to move on.”
People left. That was life. There was always a reason. I’d left my friends and my co-workers in Atlanta without a word, not a single goodbye, when I became a demon slayer. It was simply part of the price. My adoptive family dropped me to an every-other-Sunday obligation as soon as they realized I’d never turn into the perfect country-club daughter. My biological dad hadn’t even stuck around to see me come into this world before he’d bolted. Even if I could save him, I had no idea what that meant for my dad and me. No matter how much they were supposed to love you or how much they should be there – everyone left eventually.
