My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding (A Biker Witches Novel)

by Angie Fox

  He had classic good looks and thick, flawlessly styled silver hair. He winked at me as we approached. “Nice belt.”

  “Don’t ask,” Hillary said, taking her clipboard from him.

  “Good to see you, sweetheart,” he said to me. Then to Hillary, “The guests are all seated. Dimitri came down a minute ago. He should be out there.” He glanced at me. “I strapped a ring pillow to your dog,” he said, as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d done that.

  It had been their only concession to me. A dog laden with fake jewelry. Well, before mom found out I was a demon slayer.

  I briefly wondered how she’d break it to dad, or if she’d want me to do it. This was the woman who took two days to tell dad she’d scratched his Mercedes.

  “It’s your big day,” Dad said fondly.

  If he only knew.

  I opened up my demon slayer senses to detect any sort of irregularity. There were energies bouncing around this place like crazy. I tried to hone in on the worst of them, the most lethal. But nothing was standing out.

  Not yet, at least.

  Mom and Grandma had gone ahead, leaving Dad and me in the kitchen.

  “Pretty day,” he mused.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of conversation to make, so I peeked out the back door. The late morning sun shone warmly over the grounds. Hillary had set up chairs and a pretty archway overlooking the herb garden. It seemed she hadn’t quite had the time to make the rose beds as wedding-ready as she would have liked.

  Welcome to my world.

  Don’t let anything eat you.

  The thought sobered me immediately because, around here, things would.

  “You always were curious,” Dad remarked.

  Little had I known.

  I watched as Mr. Rodgerson walked my mom down the aisle. Strange how I’d never missed the absence of close family until I’d met the biker witches. Then again, my parents had their friends, which I supposed was nice. If this was any other wedding.

  The catering staff had set up to the left of the herb garden, far enough back that I could see the roof of the tent on the other side of a small arbor. Pretty.

  Dad squeezed my arm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. Your mom said you had a busy a week.”

  “It was something,” I agreed.

  I admit I got a little misty eyed when Pirate trotted out last. He had a ring pillow on his back and little tux cuffs above each of his four paws. I saw my mom’s handiwork all over it, and I loved her for it.

  He greeted several of the biker witches he passed, and stopped for a few pets from the Greeks and even one society lady. Bless her.

  Everyone was gathered here for me. The emotion of it struck me in a raw, tense sort of way. I’d never liked to be the center of attention. And this?

  It felt so surreal. It felt off. Maybe it was because I’d never been about to walk down the aisle before.

  I realized I was nervous. Had some strange, hidden part of me wanted the show? Or was this simply because I knew Zatar could strike at any time? I tugged my right hand out of dad’s and let my fingers rest on my switch stars.

  “You’ll do fine,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.

  I was a nervous wreck.

  Once my mom had been seated, Dimitri emerged from the gardens to the left. He wore a classic black tux that set off his handsome, exotic features and made him look like a Greek James Bond. He was so going to wear that again for me.

  The groom’s side to the right of the aisle let out whoops and cheers, startling the bride’s side. Well, the society part at least. Grandma and the witches joined in the hollering. Aunt Ophelia practically yodeled. When the racket died down, the crowd waited expectantly.

  Dad took my arm in his, and I felt the emotion of the moment well up in me.

  Before I could let it get too out of hand, I slid out of his grip and moved to his right side.

  “Lizzie,” he tried to maneuver around me, “you’re doing it backward.”

  Yes, well, I needed my switch star arm free. “It’s an old horseback riding injury,” I lied, knowing he’d never paid attention enough to know the difference.

  “It won’t look good,” he warned, when I refused to let go of his right arm.

  Neither would a raging demon. I didn’t have time to argue. I couldn’t shake the sense that we were walking into a trap. I still had no idea who the demon was using. There was nothing to do except try to determine where the attack would come from.

  “Help me,” I murmured to the ghost whose dress I wore.

  A form shimmered at the edge of the aisle, between the porch and the back row. It was her! We wore matching wedding gowns. She became more solid, and I saw she was worn and tired. Heavy chains bound her wrists. Another chain wrapped around her neck and wrapped around her body. The chains at her wrists sliced her skin, drawing blood. They tortured her, bent her shoulders.

  My mouth went dry. The connection was tangible between us, so much stronger than before. It was as if an invisible cord linked me to her.

  “What do I need to see?” I whispered. Show me the evil.

  Her expression was stark, her face haunted. A trickled of blood ran from the corner of her mouth as she opened it to speak. “I will show you.”

  Holy frick. She’d spoken.

  I hated to do this to her, but, can you speed it up? I channeled to her, as my father led me out onto the porch and down the steps toward the white aisle runner.

  The dull thud in my stomach turned into a knot.

  “Come on, sweetie.” Dad nudged me toward her.

  I couldn’t even look at dad. I was focused on her. It almost looked like she wanted to tell me something else, only she couldn’t form the words.

  Maybe she was trying to warn me.

  The deceased Elizabeth acted as the energy behind the demon. She was the key, if I only knew how to use her. She watched me, her fear unmistakable as she held vigil. Behind her, sat rows and rows of my wedding guests, my loved ones.

  These people counted on me to keep them safe. It was my duty as a demon slayer to make this right.

  My dad led me straight to where she stood. I could have touched her. The air around her sizzled.

  Show me what’s wrong, I pleaded.

  She shook her head. Her fear turning to pleading. Look and you will see.

  I don’t get it. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t understand.

  A small quartet to the side began playing the first notes of Pachelbel's Canon.

  It was a haunting melody, a beautiful one. Chairs creaked as my guests stood and turned toward me.

  See, the ghost urged.

  I don’t— Holy hell. I gasped and would have taken a step back if my dad hadn’t held onto me so firmly. Row upon row of my friends and family stared at me unblinking, the whites of their eyes were huge and glaring, their pupils radiated a bright and deadly scarlet.

  They were possessed. Every last one of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Come on, hon,” Dad urged. I looked up at him. His eyes were blazing red as well.

  Fuck.

  His hand gripped my arm tighter. I couldn’t switch star him, or any of them. He pulled me forward, toward them. I could sense the demon’s fury. The malice of the crowd split the air. They were on a razor thin leash, a bloodthirsty horde, ready to attack.

  We passed by the ghost, and made our way slowly up each of the ten rows to the front, every devilish pair of eyes on me. I tried to tell myself that my friends and family were no different than they had been a few minutes ago. I could just see it now.

  It didn’t help.

  I pasted a smile on my face. I couldn’t let the demon know I’d seen through his ruse, if it was even possible to fool him at this point.

  Dimitri stood waiting for me at the front. His eyes were blessedly normal, from what I could see. We’d go down together.

  With each step I took, I was more and more consumed by their possessed stares, those unblinking
red eyes. They followed me all the way down the aisle. They waited for me as Pirate stood near the front row, his gaze glowing red as well.

  With each step I took toward my groom, they surrounded me.

  Slowly, deliberately, I took each horrifying step through the wedding crowd of the damned. If they attacked, I had no shot. I wasn’t an exorcist. And there were too many of them.

  Even if there had only been one, I had no idea how to toss demons out of a living soul. And I certainly couldn’t kill my mom or my Grandma, or even little Pirate.

  The demon had trapped me in the worst way possible.

  He’d set out to get me at my own wedding. He’d set a similar trap for the first bride. What I’d give for my necklace right now.

  I searched for Rachmort, who was officiating this monstrosity. He stood off to the side, wearing a black suit trimmed with gold. His eyes were pink, not as bad. Lord, who was I kidding? I didn’t know what pink meant.

  Dimitri was the only other one not exposed. Too bad he didn’t know what the hell was going on. His expression tightened, and I could see he felt my fear. It could have been from the way our powers had touched together, or simply because he knew me so well.

  Despite the fear, he kept stoic, and so did I as I placed one foot in front of the other. There was nothing else we could do.

  At last, I reached him at the ceremonial archway. He took my hands, his lips brushing my cheek.

  “Which one is possessed?” he asked, tightly, his breath warm against my ear.

  “All of them.” I said against his skin.

  His fingers tightened on my waist and cursed under his breath as we turned toward Rachmort.

  Dimitri’s expression betrayed nothing. “You need the emerald,” he said, low, so that only I could hear.

  No kidding. It held the kind of protection I’d need if a battle broke out here. That’s why one of these possessed people had stolen it.

  Rachmort strode forward, reaching into his pocket, going for God knew what. My hand itched to draw a switch star.

  He withdrew a piece of paper, along with a pair of gold reading glasses that he perched on the end of his nose. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

  “Welcome family and friends,” his voice boomed over the crowd. “We are here today…”

  Maybe I could call for the necklace. I closed my eyes and pictured the teardrop emerald. I imagined the weight of it, the size, like a large grape. It radiated heat when it was about to act. It vibrated with energy and power. Dimitri’s palm warmed against mine as I squeezed tight and let his strength merge with mine. I felt our connection like a physical entity. Dimitri and I were one. The stone was linked to both of us. It had been a gift from him, freely accepted, and meant to be mine.

  Mine. It hummed, responding to me like nothing else I’d ever owned. It called to me, wanted me. Come back. I pictured it whole and alive again, resting against my chest where it belonged.

  I could almost, almost feel it. And then, suddenly, I knew where it was.

  It was behind me, in the crowd. I turned as Rachmort began waxing poetic about love.

  Grandma sat in the front row, her hands folded over her loose orange tunic dress. She didn’t fidget or even blink. Next to her, my mom and dad remained equally distant and detached. It hurt to see the people I loved stare at me so coldly.

  Something had grabbed hold of them. The longer they sat in the garden, so close to the center marker, the worse it would get.

  I tunneled my thoughts, tried to bury my anxiety, quiet the ticking clock as I forced all of my thoughts, hope and energy toward the stone.

  Come to me.

  Grandma hissed as a lump formed on her shoulder. My first thought was that something was attacking her, hurting her. I rushed for her as she fought. Groaning and straining, fighting the emerald as it emerged from a hidden seam in her sleeve.

  “You took it?” I balked.

  The second’s hesitation cost me.

  She clutched the emerald, used her other hand to grab a live spell from her bra. Dimitri reached her before I did. She hurled the twisting silver spell at me. Dimitri blocked it, and it slammed into his shoulder. Screams erupted from the crowd as black smoke shot up. Dimitri gasped. Horrified, I saw the plume bury him in ash and vapor.

  “Dimitri!” I reached him too late. His limbs twitched and stiffened, and he froze solid where he was. She got him with a paralyzer. Damn it.

  I ran for Grandma, ready to tackle her if I had to. I couldn’t shoot her.

  Frieda tossed a spell jar that broke behind me as Grandma took off toward the center-most dark mark. Behind me, I heard my mom scream.

  “Go!” Rachmort hollered.

  Right. So he could attack her? I searched the crowd. Flappy snarled and beat his wings. Pirate was attacking the ring pillow on his back and mom glared at me with murder in her eyes. Cripes. I didn’t want to have to hurt her, or anybody I loved.

  Gertie was pushing seventy-seven, but the possessed could move fast. Not to mention the fact that she’d had a head start, and I was in heels. Not like I could take them off around here. I watched her disappear behind an overgrown hedge and ran headlong for that spot.

  It opened up onto an arched trellis, laden with vines. Dammit. I kept my hand on my switch stars and ran, my wedding gown catching against my legs, my mind racing to think of a way to take her down. I had crystals. Every stinking one of them was for healing only. I had the ghost, who had disappeared as soon as trouble started and was chained down herself. There was the creature that lived in the back of my utility belt, but I didn’t know what he could do, and I hadn’t even seen him in a month.

  The path curved once, twice. My rib cramped. How hard could it be to catch up to an old lady? One with super-human demon strength.

  Cripes.

  I saw the center clearing straight ahead. Grandma stood waiting for me, smiling. She held a silver paralyzing spell. It wiggled and curled around her thumb.

  I nearly tripped over my heels trying to slow down. She had me alone, in the center of the demon’s power zone. She wasn’t going to kill me. Not by a long shot. It was clear she wanted me for something far worse.

  My heart hammered against my chest, and my breath came in short pants. She merely waited. I couldn’t screw this up. Everyone was depending on me—Grandma most of all.

  Even if she was about to kick my ass.

  Birds screeched. A winged beast the size of a Clydesdale flew in from the west. It was a griffin, with the head of an eagle and the body of a lion. I desperately tried to see if its eyes were red, but it was impossible from this angle. It threw its head back and roared. The griffin’s tail swishing against the blue sky, it reached for us, claws outstretched, like a hungry bird of prey.

  Grandma threw herself to the ground, and I did, too, not sure who was attacking until I saw gold tips at the end of the wings. Dimitri! Grandma drew the same conclusion, rolling on to her back and hurling a red spell at his head. A death spell.

  It exploded against his chest.

  Ash and fire rained down. Grandma and I scrambled out of the way as Dimitri landed hard, rolling onto his side. His massive lion’s body shuddered, his eagle’s beak gaped. Death spells killed by strangulation.

  My throat itched, my breath came short as I breathed the putrid air. Or maybe because I was so closely tied to his life force. I rushed to him and tried to turn him over, but he was too heavy.

  He lowered his head, gasping as his muscles flexed. I felt the pain of it as his body forced a jarring shift. His wings shook and crumbled. The coarse lion’s fur retreated, his griffin form collapsed in on itself until I clutched a gasping, choking, naked human being. My beautiful husband.

  Grandma stood above us, smirking.

  “Reverse it!” I demanded. It came out as more of a desperate plea. This wasn’t a jar spell. I couldn’t control it with a counter-brew. If I even had one. No, this was a personal, live spell that would do her bidding and kill the man I lo
ved.

  She towered above me, her eyes glowing hot. “You will do as I say now,” she demanded, in a hollow voice. “It will be quicker if you are moving and acting freely.” She raised her hands and I watched as the sky above us darkened. The ground began to tremble.

  Sweet Jesus. “Grandma, push through this,” I implored. I needed her back. Desperately. If there was some trace of her inside this shell, I needed to see it. I needed to work with it. I had to find some way to save her, and Dimitri, and myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Earth gave a mighty jolt as Dimitri grasped for breath in my arms.

  The demon was coming.

  Grandma loomed above me, eyes burning, jaw clenched as she ripped away my slayer essence, channeling my power straight to hell. Holy mother. The last time a demon had tried to do this to me, I’d killed him by ripping his heart out. Could I really do the same to my own Grandmother?

  Yes. If it was the only way, I would.

  She wore my emerald around her neck, suspended by its delicate bronze chain. It pulsed as the demon drained it as well.

  My stomach clenched as the power was slashed from me, piece by horrifying piece. Knees weak, I tried to stand.

  “Stay with me,” I begged Dimitri.

  His face was flushed, his lips had turned blue. He was going to pass out, and in a few seconds, I wasn’t going to be able to do anything either. I felt my strength rush away from me in another terrifying throb, leaving me light-headed. I stumbled sideways.

  The ground jolted, and I pitched forward toward Grandma.

  She jerked sideways, smart enough to stay out of my reach. “What? Am I not draining you fast enough?” Her mouth set into a hard line as she upped the voltage. Pain seared through me, and I watched her shake and suffer as it stole her life force as well.

  Shit. She wasn’t going to draw this out. Unlike the demon I’d bested in hell, Grandma didn’t play. She knew me and was intimately aware of what I could do to her given half a chance.