The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers ds-2

by Angie Fox

  I inspected my hands, stomach tickling because I already knew what I’d find—not a scratch on them. Damn it.

  Focus on what you can control, which didn’t seem to be much at the moment.

  Before long, the back door clicked open. Ezra’s head popped out of the brick wall nearby. “This way. Quickly.”

  “Pirate!” I held open the Gucci bag and he scampered in without so much as a high-pitched doggie whine. It was exactly what I wanted—and it wasn’t. I felt like a stranger in my own skin. My dog of six years was afraid of me.

  At the same time, I was more powerful than I’d ever been. And I’d need every bit of strength in the battle ahead. The third demon slayer Truth bubbled to the top of my mind. Sacrifice yourself.

  I rubbed at the tears burning the back of my eyes. I hoped it would be worth it.

  The bag rustled as Pirate situated himself. You’d think with everyone and their brother craving my powers, I wouldn’t feel so alone all the time.

  The more I figured out, the more confused I was about what I was even doing here. Yeah, well that and fifty bucks might get me a bus ride out of town. In the meantime, I buried my emotions, drew back my shoulders and hustled for the red light illuminating the door at the back of the club.

  Inside, a dark purple hallway led endlessly to the right and to the left. A hard bass beat thumped from deep inside the building. In its stillness, the hallway felt like a harbor, a final refuge before the point of no return.

  A burning, twisting feeling seized my gut. There were demons in this club. I was so tired of running into demons. The sulfur burned clear over the combined stink of bleach and spilled beer.

  “You smell that?” I picked up on something else. A sweetness in the air, like seduction.

  My Gucci bag shifted and rattled. “Oh, Lizzie, I never thought I’d say this, but let’s just go home.” Pirate’s nose popped out of the bag, then an ear. “I want my bed and my squeaky frog. And I want to curl up on the couch and eat popcorn and watch girlie movies. I’ll even let you rent Beaches. Let’s go home. You and me.”

  I wanted that too. Now, more than anything. But… “It’s too late, Pirate.”

  Ezra’s face appeared, his eyes seeming to scan into the wall in front of me. “Hurry.” He shrank into a miniature orb. “Follow the hellhounds.”

  “Hell-what?” My voice caught in my throat as I made out a pair of ghostlike dogs far down the passageway. Three heads snarled from each sleek, coal black body. With long snouts and empty sockets for eyes, they almost seemed to wait for us.

  With effort, I summoned my voice. “They’re not guards, are they?” I asked, ready to trade Pirate for a switch star. For the first time, I was glad I had him trembling, safe in my bag.

  “Whenever I’ve seen them before, they’ve been omens,” Ezra said stiffly.

  “Well then,” I said, watching their doggie drool sizzle on the concrete floor, “I’m guessing they don’t foretell bright sunshiny days.” Good Lord, the paint started to bubble. Would it have been too much to ask to get a good omen once in a while?

  Ezra looked at me like I’d grown a second and third head.

  “They foretell events that impact all of mankind,” Ezra said.

  I nodded one too many times. My head hurt. I didn’t want to impact all of mankind. I came here to finagle my uncle out of a bad marriage. That’s all. We didn’t want a she-demon in the family. Instead, I’d gotten a devil’s mark, a potential showdown at the Hoover Dam and now this.

  Ezra couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the hellhounds. “Look at those teeth. Some ghosts go their entire existences without seeing one hellhound, much less two.”

  “Lucky you,” I said, wondering how I’d save the world when I wasn’t quite sure I had a handle on what was happening in this second-rate nightclub. I wondered if this is where the succubi had been luring men and killing them. It was remote enough.

  The dogs seemed to be waiting for us. Sure enough, when we moved, they did too. They kept a steady pace in front of us, never even looking back, as we followed them down the left corridor. The beat of the music grew stronger and so did the sulfuric stench of demons. The final turn landed us behind a red curtain as a performer on stage crooned the first words to “Mi Amor.”

  I need you. I want you. Wrap my world around you.

  The three-headed dogs turned in circles and dashed off into thin air.

  “Where’d they go?” I asked, as disturbed by their disappearance as I was by seeing them in the first place.

  Ezra shook his head. “Not good,” he said, almost to himself.

  I glanced toward the stage curtain. The singer belted out a set of lyrics I knew all too well.

  Take me. Please me. You know you need me.

  Ricardo Zarro, the King of Love? I couldn’t believe it. I’d seen Ricardo Zarro performing “Mi Amor” on The Tonight Show last week. The man was famous for singing the kind of songs that put people in the mood. He lived at the top of the Billboard charts. And he looked quite striking in person, like a young Elvis.

  But why would he sing in such a dinky club?

  As quickly as I dared, I inched over to stage right and pulled back the side curtain. He’d tucked a yellow silk club shirt into buttery leather pants that (I’d be willing to bet) had never seen the hard seat of a hog. Zarro twitched his hips and belted out the lyrics.

  Take me. Have me. Put your arms around me.

  Sweat glistened on his brow, against the shock of black hair tossed artfully over his forehead. He grinned at the nonexistent audience, showing off a set of perfectly capped teeth.

  I tried to understand exactly why he’d be performing here. Half the people in Vegas probably didn’t even know about this place.

  Then it hit me—privacy. The succubi were working on something.

  A demonic presence floated up the empty staircase leading under the stage.

  “Back!” I reached for Ezra and came up with a handful of frigid air. “This way!” I motioned to him as I darted behind a stack of black-light boxes. Sure he could go invisible. But dang it, I needed him around and it would be nice to have a clue where to find him.

  Feet clomped up the staircase like the next invasion of the heavens.

  “Excellent,” said a scratchy voice, a demonic one. I knew it as sure as I had to fight the overwhelming urge to attack it. “And tomorrow, the crew knows when to cut the lights.”

  Serena cackled. Serena? I fought the urge to thrust my head around the side of the black-light boxes.

  “We’re set to take over all major network and cable stations. According to the Nielsen ratings, we’ll get about thirty million viewers on the West Coast. Ricardo will handle the audience. I’ll give the signal to trigger the blackout,” Serena said. “Then it’s up to America to take the hint.”

  The demon snickered, the ruby in her ear casting brilliant light. “I don’t think they’ll have any trouble. Zarro could put a nun in the mood. Kill the lights, and it’ll be like Sodom and Gomorrah all over again. Without the donkey shit.”

  The footsteps halted. “Harness the power well,” the demon warned. “I want the final six hundred and forty-two sisters out of hell in one glorious wave.”

  That would put them at six hundred sixty-six demons. I glanced at the dark mark on my hand. Not a good number.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem,” Serena said, nails clacking against the hardwood as they began walking again. “Every freak in hell knows that once we get all our girls here, they can follow.”

  Sweet heavens. I couldn’t fight the demons we had in Vegas now, much less the rest of hell.

  I risked a peek around the boxes and nearly fell over backwards. The succubi didn’t even try to look human. They loped like blackened orangutans, with rough, cracked skin hanging from their scraggly frames and cadaver-like skulls. Serena was taller than her companion, broader. Hair sprouted in wiry clumps from Serena’s chin and above her clawlike hands. I’d never seen anything like her and I ne
ver wanted to again.

  They had my uncle to sabotage the power systems. They had Ricardo Zarro to trigger a massive, power-inducing lovefest. Would sex be enough? Could it really beat killing? I didn’t want to find out. Because if they got to six hundred sixty-six, I had a feeling their “killer prize” was Armageddon.

  The creature hissed a trail of yellow sulfur.

  “I hear Satan himself is monitoring our progress,” the shorter one told Serena. “Promotions all around, I’m sure.”

  Their voices faded until the only thing I could hear was Ricardo’s voice pounding out “Long, Hot Lovin’.”

  “Did you see that?” I whispered into thin air.

  Ezra didn’t answer. Bless him, he must be following the diabolical duo. I didn’t envy the ghost one bit. The air felt positively electric and they’d only walked past.

  I reached inside the Gucci bag and scratched Pirate’s head. “What are we going to do?”

  Pirate exhaled, a warm doggie sniff where he’d wedged his head into the corner of the bag. “I just want to go home.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  As Pirate and I lurked behind the light boxes, waiting for Ezra’s report, a terrible thought hit me. The demons should have sensed me.

  When I’d gone to hell last week, when I’d followed Max down into the basement of the old prison a few nights ago, the demons had clamored for me. They knew. I couldn’t think of one solid reason why they wouldn’t swarm me now except—my entire body recoiled at the thought—I’d somehow blended with them.

  Whoever said keep your friends close and your enemies closer was out of his mind.

  “Okay then,” I said, standing tall. I refused to go down cowering behind light boxes.

  “Wait. Where we going?” Pirate asked, as I scooped him out of the bag.

  If I was really going to do this, controlling my dog would be the least of my problems. Pirate would need to be able to move.

  “We’re going to figure out what the heck is wrong with me,” I said, setting him down. “And we’re going to learn what in Hades is going on here,” I added as Ricardo Zarro hit a high note.

  Pirate eyed me warily. “O, biscuits,” he said, his collar tinkling as he shook off.

  “Come on,” I said, looking Pirate square in the eye. “Let’s show these creatures what happens when they mess with a terrier.”

  “That wasn’t very smart of them, was it?” Pirate said, his ears pricking. “And too bad for them, I think I’ve got some Great Dane in me too.” He snarled.

  “I always suspected rottweiler,” I said as we crept down the stairway and under the stage. I braced a hand against the low ceiling as I took the steep, narrow stairs. The wooden beams of the stage hung low over the cavelike room. Extra props, junk and costume racks crowded the space.

  This place felt wrong. I stood at the bottom of the staircase, unwilling to go farther, the excess energy from the demons prickling my skin. No way a couple of powerful succubi had any need for anything down here. There were no other exits. I wasn’t a gambler, but I’d be willing to bet we’d found their portal.

  The small room under the stage reeked of sulfur. Miscellaneous stage gear crowded the place, stacked to the ceiling in some areas. We made our way past a cluster of microphone stands and around a pile of half-assembled scaffolding before I spotted the portal, shimmering among a collection of silk scarves.

  No bigger than a soap bubble, the illicit pathway churned dark and menacing as a black hole.

  I rubbed Pirate’s head as I gathered my courage.

  “Oh, Lizzie. Oh, Pup-peroni.” Pirate’s claws clickety clacked on the hardwood floor. “I’d eat it if I didn’t think it’d try to eat me first.”

  “You’re not doing anything, baby dog. You wait for me here.”

  Pirate sniffed. “You know I’ll guard it for you. Shoot. That’s what guard dogs do.”

  I braced myself. I had to see if this was our link to purgatory or hell or whatever held back the succubi. You’d think the 1936 handbook could have mentioned that. I held my breath and the bubble stretched as I stepped through.

  Heat gripped me. It was ten times worse than sliding into a hot car on a hundred-degree day, but that’s all I could think of as I slogged through the ovenlike tunnel.

  Steamy air scorching my lungs.

  In an instant, I’d stepped out of the portal and straight into a world of ice. My sweat gelled instantly as frigid winds buffeted me. I stood in the middle of a maze of ice, the sheer white walls towering in every direction. Creatures moved behind the opaque barriers, their claws scratching into the frost.

  My heart stuttered. I’d been here before. “Welcome to the first layer of hell.”

  The portal spit fire and I leapt out of the way.

  “It’s around the corner,” a voice hissed.

  I ducked down the nearest passageway. Oh cripes. Last time, I hadn’t even gotten my feet cold before a demon sensed me. I glanced over my shoulder. The creatures in the ice had attacked me last time. They looked like white-scaled lizards and they could bite. Hard. No way I was going through that again.

  Dimitri’s emerald flashed a brilliant green, and I nearly jumped with shock. “What the… ?” I held it away from my chest, but it had already faded to dull again.

  Around the corner, a demon received her instructions.

  “Assemble your team. Remain here until the portal turns blue. Then it’ll be cold enough to pass.”

  I fought a shiver. They had entire invasion teams ready.

  The portal crackled with energy, like a sadistic bug zapper that was somehow churning out superlocusts.

  They had to sense me on their home turf. Unhitching a switch star, I braced for the attack of the remaining demon, hoping to heck the ice creature didn’t decide to charge at the same time.

  I waited, ready, until my elbow stiffened and my fingers cramped around my switch star. “What the… ?” I ducked my head around the corner and found the portal deserted.

  How would the demon let me go? Why? I’d never heard of a demon slayer walking around in hell and nobody noticing.

  Unless… I sheathed my switch star and stared at the 6-6-6 glowing on my palm—I somehow belonged here now.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I was done blending. I wrapped my arms around my chest, braced myself and charged back through the portal. The heat clawed at me. This time, I didn’t care. Standing it, enduring it meant I had something good in me. That meant I didn’t belong in hell, even if the demons seemed to think so.

  In less than a minute, I was back into the costume room and into a mess.

  I could tell in an instant that the demons had left the building, yet Pirate crouched in attack mode, stranded on top of an overturned trash can, his tail quivering. The hellhounds paced back and forth in front of Pirate’s makeshift island, glowering at him.

  “And those grizzly bears knew there was no shame in running away,” Pirate said, his nails scratching at the slick plastic, “on account of my utter fierceness.”

  The trash can rocked as I scooped Pirate into my arms. The creatures didn’t stalk me, like they had Pirate. They darted back to the stairs—our only exit—and crouched, fangs bared, their saliva hissing as it oozed onto the floor.

  “It’s bad, Lizzie. Bad, I tell you.” Pirate clung to me, shaking, his nails biting into my skin. “You disappeared and a minute later—zing—hellhounds. They don’t talk, they don’t sniff. And if you ask me, that’s just creepy.”

  My breath hitched. “Something must have brought them back.”

  As if I hadn’t endured enough surprises in the last five minutes, Dimitri charged down the stairs. He wore faded jeans and a clean black T-shirt, his hair still slick from a shower. “I don’t believe this, Lizzie.” He looked at me like this was somehow my fault.

  “I told you to stay away.”

  “And the emerald told me differently,” he said, his eyes catching the dead stone at my neck.

  Lovely.
It was too weak to protect me, strong enough to tell on me.

  Dimitri towered at the edge of the stairs. “Exactly what have you been doing?”

  “I’m surviving,” I said. And I’d continue to do so because it was the only thing I could do at this point.

  Still, in spite of his accusation and, well, everything—I was glad to see him and reassured that no matter what it cost him, it seemed Dimitri would always be there for me.

  The hellhounds glared at us, their eye sockets glowing yellow. I felt my pulse speed up. Omens or not, these things smelled evil. The one on the left wheezed out a breath of frigid air as Dimitri drew way too close.

  The beasts snapped and Dimitri leapt back.

  Pirate tried to clamber up to my shoulders and I pulled him down. “Easy, guy.”

  Pirate whipped his head around. “Easy?” He snorted, peppering my shoulder with doggie snot. “You want me to take it easy? Because frankly, I don’t know what there is to relax about. We got demons after us and we’re trapped down in this room and you have a glowy hand and then you leave me alone with hell dogs.” Pirate managed a weak bark in their direction before he nuzzled his nose under the crook of my arm. “I thought they were going to eat me whole and use my toenails for toothpicks.”

  Poor Pirate. He didn’t deserve any of this. I rubbed him on the head and stuffed him under my other arm to free up my switch star hand. The acrid scent of demons hung heavy in the air.

  We had to get past these things.

  The hellhound on the left snarled, baring row after row of sharp yellow teeth. Dimitri thought he was being subtle, but I saw the calculated way he’d moved to their flank.

  Fine. We’d deal with them together. “What do they want?” According to Ezra, these things were omens, not attack beasts.

  Dimitri double-checked his weapons like a lieutenant preparing to lead his troops into battle. It had to have cost him a lot of energy to be so close to the portal, but he didn’t let on. His wide chest heaved, on full alert as he positioned himself in front of the beasts. “It looks like we’re altering someone’s fate.”