Beverly Hills Demon Slayer

by Angie Fox

  She'd tied her hair up in a messy ponytail and flour dusted one of her cheekbones. "I suppose," Shiloh said, both hands digging into a bowl. Her voice kicked an octave higher, her movements stressed. "No more creatures, no more threats." She held up her dough-caked hands. "I'm making homemade dog treats." She broke out into a genuine smile.

  "Because I'm special," Pirate added, practically sitting on her feet. Oh my Lord, Pirate wore a sweater. Yellow and pink squiggly stripes, with four legs and a tail hole.

  It was flat-out ridiculous. Which was when I decided Shiloh's culinary way of coping had to be better than her knitting a matching sweater for me.

  I bent down and held a hand out to my dog. "Hey, remember me? The one that feeds you?"

  "Yeah. Science Delight Light." He reluctantly dashed over for a quick pat on the head. "That stuff is better when I hide it under the couch for a week, but it's still nasty."

  "What are you storing under my couch?" I asked, but he'd already returned to his sugar mama. I saw how it was.

  Dimitri, on the other hand, looked like he was about to start laughing. I didn't get it. This was serious here. I had a demon issue and, it seemed, some housekeeping problems as well. He opened his mouth, closed it, all the while taking a few steps backward. "Why don't you stay and talk to Shiloh?"

  "Oh, come on." I wasn't looking forward to asking her to get more involved. Besides, as soon as Frieda assembled the witches, we were out of here.

  But Dimitri was already moving toward the sliding glass door off the deck. "I'm going to do a quick perimeter check," he said, flicking the lock, "just to make sure."

  Um-hum. "You do that." I was all for a walk around, but let's be honest—I could hear him bust out laughing the minute he slid the door closed.

  And, geez Louise—the fenris was eating one of my sunflower dishtowels.

  I went to take it away from her when I noticed one of my cobalt-blue mixing bowls—another wedding present—licked clean next to the massive wolflike creature.

  "I thought Babydoll was supposed to eat hay," I said, recovering the bowl. On second thought, she could keep the dish towel.

  "I made her a special nutrient mix," Shiloh said, glancing over her shoulder at the beast. "It'll help her feel better. Pretty soon, she'll be running all over the place."

  Oh, boy. "That sounds terrific."

  Shiloh nodded, but as she worked the dough, I could see tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "Hey," I said, wanting to get closer, but not so sure if I had the right. "What's wrong?"

  She shook her head, even as the tears grew fatter. "Nothing. I hope." She swiped at her eyes with a flour-dusted forearm. "It's silly, really."

  "Is it?" I highly doubted that.

  She tried to smile and hiccuped instead. "My husband and I have a standing call. Whenever he's on the road, even if he's deep undercover, he calls me on Saturday nights." Every word held the weight of her worry. "Last night, he didn't call."

  That was bad. Truth be told, though, it could be any number of things. She'd said her husband was working on a classified project. "Maybe he had an emergency."

  She tried to look hopeful and failed. "When that happens, he always sends a text."

  I didn't know their dynamic. I just knew that it would be hard for me to make a calling commitment to someone. Life had a way of altering your schedule when you were a demon slayer. "What was he working on?" Maybe they sent him someplace where he couldn't catch a signal.

  She shook her head. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

  "Right." I planted my hands on my hips. This actually fit into what I wanted to talk to her about. I wished I could figure out a way to cage it, but my mind drew a blank, so I just said it. "I'm going to be meeting with the Red Skull witches."

  Shiloh let out an involuntary gasp.

  I pushed on. "It turns out you were right about the church and the tomb."

  She drew her doughy hands up over the periwinkle apron at her chest, her eyes red-rimmed and frightened. "This is terrible. Do you understand how bad this is?"

  I did. But we couldn't afford for her to lock up. We had to press on. "The witches excel at seeing the truth in situations." It was as good an explanation as any for the crazy-ass ceremony we were about to do. "Come with me. You can help us learn more."

  Her hands were shaking. "I told you what I know."

  I didn't sugarcoat it. "We could use you to connect to that succubus seer energy." There. I said it. "We'll also ask about your husband."

  She chewed on her lip. I really hated to bribe her like that, but I wasn't about to lie to her about what we were getting into. Besides, if there was any chance she could make a difference, we had to do it.

  She nodded weakly. "I'll go."

  "Good girl," I said, wishing I could pat her on the shoulder, not so sure I should.

  A flash of surprise crossed her dainty features. "Nobody's ever called me that."

  I shot her a grin. "There's a first time for everything, right?" At least there was in my line of work.

  My iPhone chirped and I fished it out of my coat pocket. A text from Frieda popped up.

  Witches out and about. No idea where. Let's meet/plan at first light tomorrow.

  "No," I snapped at my phone. Pirate's ears pricked. "Not you," I said to him in a gentler voice as I typed a response:

  Get the witches NOW.

  I had Shiloh. I had a bead on my dad. What part of demon infestation didn't these people understand?

  I scraped my hair away from my face with my free hand. And truly, if we were going to wait forever and a day, couldn't we set a time that had more to do with clocks instead of sun schedules? This wasn't the Middle Ages.

  Shiloh shook her head. "I need a drink. You want one?" She opened my lower cabinet and pulled out my blender. "I can make piña coladas, rum runners"—she planted the blender on the counter—"watermelon daiquiri?"

  She had to be kidding. "I thought you were ignoring your vices."

  Her perfectly white teeth found her plump bottom lip. "Mostly."

  My phone chimed as Frieda's return text came through:

  Nobody here. Tomorrow at sunup. I'm turning off my phone.

  Of all the… My fingers tightened on my own phone. "She can't do that."

  My father was in league with a demon. I'd destroyed the Tomb of Kebechet. We were in fricking emergency mode here. Frieda and the biker witches had been on my team from the start and no way I would accept "tomorrow" as an answer. I hit redial and found she had indeed turned off her phone.

  Grandma did too.

  And Ant Eater.

  And every other witch I had on speed dial.

  "Son of a…" I saw Pirate, looking up at me with big, innocent doggy eyes. "…biscuit eater." No sense corrupting the dog.

  Still, what could possibly be more important than this?

  I shoved the phone into my pocket.

  The witches had better be mixing a batch of volatile spells or battling a legion of dark wizards or rescuing kittens. I didn't know what else would make them unavailable. They'd never ignored my call to arms before.

  "Drinks it is," Shiloh said, moving to the cabinets near the refrigerator. "Where do you keep your alcohol?"

  I leaned a hip against the counter. "If I haven't yet, I wanted to thank you for telling me about the moon symbols and the tomb." Shiloh dug through my cabinets as I talked. "You were right on both counts." I crossed my arms over my chest. Of course it appeared as if we weren't going to discover anything else until tomorrow morning.

  She turned around, rum bottle in hand. "Did you see a line in the sand?" She focused on the over-tight lid to the bottle, as if she were afraid of my answer.

  "No," but now that she mentioned it, I wondered if the ultimatum I gave my father was the line in the sand.

  Shiloh headed for the blender and nearly stepped on Pirate, who was right at her feet. "Oh my…"

  He jumped back. "Hey. Whoa! A little warning, please."

  Her fac
e fell. "Ohmigosh!" she said, completely ignoring Pirate's role in getting stepped on. She planted the rum bottle on the counter and went for her mixing bowls. "I'm so sorry, sweetie!" She dug out a heaping scoop of doggy biscuit dough and fed it to him.

  He ate it happily, and quickly—considering she'd given him about two biscuits worth.

  "If you're going to do everything my dog wants, we have a whole other kind of danger on our hands," I remarked.

  Shiloh gave a faint smile. She wiped her hands on a towel. "Do you really think the witches can help me find out if Damien is safe?"

  "Yes." I wouldn't have told her if I didn't believe it.

  Shiloh gave a simple nod.

  Dimitri slid open the glass door. "Everything looks good out there," he said, wiping at the corner of his eyes. "Flappy hasn't seen any action on the portal."

  "It went dark about a half hour after you left," Shiloh said.

  "At least it's safe for the neighbors." I didn't like introducing too many supernatural elements to the block, said the woman with the half demon and the fenris in her kitchen.

  Shiloh abandoned the rum and retreated back to her cooking while I told Dimitri about our delay with the witches.

  He groaned and glared at the floor, before he brought his gaze back up to mine. "Fine. I believe things happen for a reason." He held up a hand. "And not because the witches are out to drive you crazy."

  Funny. That would have been my assumption.

  Shiloh made dog biscuit dough circles. She placed each one on a wax paper-lined cookie sheet. "Actually, you know, that means maybe we could go to the party," she said, feigning innocence.

  Now? Hardly. "Where'd you get that idea?"

  Shiloh placed the new batch of biscuits in the oven. "While you were gone, a very nice lady named Sarayh stopped by. She said to tell you that you were welcome to bring a girlfriend to the bonfire on the beach." She gave a small shrug. "It would be more fun than drinking by ourselves."

  I'd forgotten about that. With very good reason.

  "You should go," Dimitri said, in that tone that suggested he was up to something. "You could stand to relax."

  That was rich. "You want me to dance around a bonfire while a demon rises up in Beverly Hills?"

  Shiloh squealed. "There's going to be dancing?"

  I turned to her. "That's what you choose to focus on?"

  "Think about it," Dimitri prodded, in that annoyingly logical way of his. "There's nothing else you can do tonight. You need to take a step back, or you're not going to be as good when we do need your head in the game."

  Maybe so, but one of my strengths was that I was on-target 100 percent of the time. I lived for it.

  Shiloh stood in front of the oven, absently playing with her wedding ring. "Sarayh seemed very nice. She invited me, too. You know, in case you felt more comfortable with a friend along."

  Sure. The she-demon had offered me booze and now she wanted to go to a party. I didn't feel comfortable at all. Besides, Shiloh wasn't my friend. She was technically a creature of the night.

  She dropped the act. "I could use this, Lizzie. I really could. It'll help me focus better tomorrow."

  So we'd moved from bribery to blackmail.

  Dimitri placed a hand on my shoulder. "Relax. Be with the normal people." I felt myself stiffen at his words. "Just because you're different doesn't mean you can't have fun. We made a lot of headway today." He gave me a light squeeze. "If a crisis comes up, we'll handle it. But for now"—he shrugged, as if he couldn't figure out why I found it so hard— "go make some friends."

  "It'll make you feel better," Shiloh agreed. She took a few steps toward me, and then stopped. "I could use some human contact, too," she added.

  Now I knew her angle. "Don't you dare feed off those people," I warned her.

  Her forehead pinched. "I can get a lift from happiness as well," she said, an edge of defensiveness in her voice, "just like anybody else."

  Pirate nosed around my legs and I picked him up. I couldn't believe I was even considering this.

  A quick glance out the window showed they were already setting up for tonight's party. Sarayh and some of the girls from the homeowners' association were out there, stacking wood for a bonfire. Other women in bright shorts and festive skirts were carrying orange and green coolers down onto the beach. And it appeared as if they had some wireless speakers out there as well.

  Shiloh washed and dried her hands, making extra sure she got all the dough out of her ring. "Come on. I have an extra sundress. We'll get you changed."

  "I don't want to change." If these people wanted to get to know me, then they were going to meet a leather-clad goddess.

  Girl power.

  "Ever get sand inside of leather?" Shiloh asked.

  "Yes. This morning." And it hadn't been comfortable. I ran my hands down my rather tight bustier. I didn't want to ruin more cowhide. Not to mention the fact that my heeled boots would sink into the beach like tent stakes. "Fine. I'll go put on something else," I told her, "but I'm wearing my own clothes." I didn't need help fitting in. There were bound to be some of my old dresses in the spare bedroom.

  The sun had begun to set.

  "Come on," Shiloh said, directing a dazzling smile at my husband. "Let's get cleaned up. Dimitri can handle the kitchen."

  He shook his head. "You know what, I will," he said, in the miracle of the year. He must really want me to go have fun. I glanced back at my hunk of a husband, standing in our disaster of a kitchen, giving me the shoo motion.

  Pirate stared up at him, no doubt willing to clean up any mess that fell onto the floor.

  Let's face it: I was outnumbered. I took a quick shower and spent a few extra minutes drying and curling my hair. I wasn't sure whom I was trying to impress, but I found a cute strappy sundress in the spare closet. My mother had picked it out and brought it along for the week of my wedding festivities. I think she'd worried about me not having anything properly feminine—her definition, of course. In this case, it had been nice to have her take charge. I'd always liked the simple yellow dress.

  I made it downstairs as Shiloh leashed up a drooling, excited fenris. "Let's take Babydoll. She could use a run."

  The beast's nails scrabbled against our hardwood floors, reminding me once again why we'd kept her in the kitchen.

  "Pirate can stay with me," Dimitri said. "We can have a boys' night."

  My dog's ears perked up. "Will you let me bark at the dishwasher?"

  "Sure, buddy," my husband said. "We can also order a pizza."

  "Yes!" Pirate spun hard, and almost hit the side of the counter.

  "He's so cute," Shiloh cooed.

  I may have grunted. I reached down to pet Pirate and got a wet nose instead. At least someone was going to have a good time.

  Dimitri had already started on the dishes. I gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

  "Have fun," he said.

  "I'll try," I said, leaving.

  Shiloh was already out on the deck. I was bringing a half succubus and a fenris to a bonfire on the beach. With alcohol. While the Earl of Hell planned a second coming.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  "Just watch it," I told Shiloh. She seemed to have a handle on the overgrown brute, but it made me uneasy all the same.

  Waves pounded the beach. The night was clear and warm, beautiful really.

  Babydoll raced out as far as she could without strangling herself on the leash. Still, she half dragged Shiloh as we made our way to the path leading down to the water. The sun had just begun to set over the ocean, casting gorgeous pinks, oranges, and blues over the horizon.

  Shiloh took a deep breath and then glanced at me. "Do you even know how to have a good time?"

  Ouch. "Yes." My girlfriends and I used to go out all the time. Of course I hadn't seen them since I'd become a demon slayer, and now I wouldn't even know what to say. It's not as if I could admit what I was. They'd never believe it. And even if they did, I'd just be putting
them in danger.

  The last few years hadn't exactly been full of free time for hanging out with the girls anyway. Truly, there had to be about a hundred better ways for me to spend my time. I could be mapping out Beverly Hills, maybe researching moon temples or Egyptian mythology. Old stories had a strange way of pulling from fact. Or maybe they'd started off true and—

  "No offense, but you remind me of a demon I knew once."

  "Except I'm good," I reminded her.

  "Well, yes," she said, "but the point is, the guy is a serious workaholic. If he has a project, that's all he thinks about."

  "Then he's smart," I told her. Which is why I had to work just as hard. Chances were, I'd face him eventually.

  She stole a glance at me and quickly looked out toward the beach. "That's the thing." I could hear her cringe. "He thinks he's being smart, but he's not. If you can't take a second and pull back—breathe—then you don't have the perspective you need to really see a situation for what it is."

  Oh Lordy. "Can you at least pretend you're still talking about your friend the demon?"

  "Fine," she snapped. "In case you're wondering, I'm trying to help you. Obsession isn't good."

  "Thanks, Dr. Phil."

  At least nothing had come out of the portal. Flappy sat on the beach, in front of where the gateway had gone dark. Babydoll reached him first. Her cold nose found the dragon's backside, causing the adolescent dragon to jump.

  The dragon let out a rwaaar. Smoke curled from his nostrils. Babydoll slunk behind Shiloh.

  "That's not nice," she told the dragon.

  Flappy snorted, but he didn't attack.

  Oh, look—progress.

  I reached up to pat his head, but he wasn't interested. He blew a few small flames out his nose and tossed his head at a group of ladies in possession of a bowl of popcorn. Lucky for the ladies and their snacks, Flappy wouldn't leave his post.

  "Watch this," Shiloh said, tossing a stick into the water. She cut Babydoll loose and the crazy animal dashed into the waves.

  "Stay away from the portal," I warned.

  "I thought it was closed," she said, as the fenris ran back to us, wet and happy.

  Didn't mean it would stay that way.

  Babydoll shook off, hitting us with a spray of water. I ducked as it hit my cheek. Shiloh laughed.