ADS 03 - A Tale of Two Demon Slayers ds-3

by Angie Fox

  The table grew silent. I was tempted, so tempted to tell her I didn’t need her, that I’d never accept help from someone like her. But I didn’t.

  No matter how much she taunted me or smirked. Despite the insinuations or the attitude, I’m a demon slayer and sometimes my life wasn’t pretty. In fact, it could be downright disturbing. I didn’t have the luxury to pick and choose who came to my aid. She could plant a stripper pole in the middle of the table and start gyrating and I still wouldn’t back down and refuse the help I needed.

  I would choose to take the high road when it came to griffins like Amara. Better yet, I could hope the low road would lead her straight over a cliff.

  I ignored the way she leaned over the table so that her boobs practically fell out of her dress. “I understand you’re psychic,” I said to her.

  She treated me to a smirk. “I’ve been known to sense things from time to time.”

  Okay. I’d play. “You knew to get out of the house before the imps came calling today.”

  Her eyes held mine. “Sometimes, I can see things coming. Today smelled like sulfur and demons.”

  Dyonne huffed. “A warning would have been nice.”

  “It could have been anything,” she said with the shrug of a well-sculpted shoulder, going back to her meal. “Migrating harpies or a lost manticore. One of the furies might have gotten out again. ASPCC usually has a handle on it.”

  Diana nudged me. “The All-Species for the Prevention of Cruelty to Creatures.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, but it was time to cut to the chase. “Can you help us retrieve the contents of Dimitri’s light box?” I asked. “You’re aware the magic he used to trace me has been stolen.”

  She raised her chin. “I was told.” She glanced at Dimitri. “And, yes, I will see what I can do.”

  “But will you really help?” Dyonne interjected.

  “Yes,” Dimitri answered, “she will. Because Amara knows that if my magic falls into the wrong hands, it will hurt me too.” He leveled a warning glance that none of us missed.

  Amara flushed. “While I can’t say I approve of your…choice of lifestyle, I am bound by the pact our families made to protect each other. And, besides,” she said, the guile lifting from her face, “I’d never let anything happen to you, Dimitri. You have to know that.”

  Dimitri studied her and we all watched as something passed between them. “I know, Mara.”

  A dull thud formed in the center of my back.

  Mara? So now it was Mara?

  She gave a small smile. “Then let me begin right away.” She lowered her fork. No wonder the woman was skinny. She hadn’t eaten more than two grapes.

  “It will take a few minutes to prepare,” Amara said as she slid away from the table. “You finish your dinners.” She eased behind Dimitri, her hand barely grazing his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the gardens in half an hour. And Lizzie,” she said, curling a perfectly manicured finger in my direction, “I need you to come with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  She led me out the back door of the house and onto a large patio covered by a redwood pergola. Yellow and white roses scented the air and tangled over the latticed timbers. Cotton panels billowed in the cooling evening breeze. In the distance, past the gardens, I could see vineyards stretching up the base of a large hill.

  It was like stepping out onto a page of Better Homes & Gardens, the kind of spread that looked amazing, but still you wondered if anybody really lived like that.

  Amara turned to me, lips pursed, and ruined the image. “Before we go any farther, I want to get one thing straight.”

  I braced myself. “Shoot.”

  “I’m not doing this for you.”

  I studied her for a second, the crease in her forehead, the spit in her eye. “I figured that part out.” I didn’t need her affection, just her talent.

  Too bad for Amara, she couldn’t come to Dimitri’s rescue without helping me too. It was clear from the way her face twisted how much she despised the situation. The wind blew her wavy black hair around her shoulders, yanking at a single silver feather she’d attached behind her ear with a beaded clip.

  “Come on,” I said, noticing the shadows growing long over the garden. “It’s getting late.” I didn’t relish the idea of being outside in the dark with only the ice queen for company. The quicker we had our part done, the sooner the others could join us.

  I made it down the steps and halfway to the garden before I realized she wasn’t following. I stopped and turned. “Amara?”

  She stood at the top of the steps, the edges of her mouth turned up into a hard smile. “Dimitri and I were promised at birth.”

  Oh geez Louise. “You might want to tell him that.”

  “I understand he’s been sidetracked. It takes an amazing man to do what he did for his sisters.” Her voice grew husky with pride. “And to succeed! To break a centuries-old curse.”

  If she started crying, I was going to shove that feather up her nose. I knew exactly what Dimitri had done. “I was there.”

  She looked at me like I was some kind of puppy that had followed Dimitri home. “Now he’s with you because of some kind of displaced loyalty.” She braced her hand on a porch support, thick with climbing vines. “You don’t belong here, Lizzie. Look at this place,” she said, plucking a yellow rose petal and rubbing it with her fingers. “Th is is his home. My home. Dimitri and I are of the same people. Surely you can see that.”

  Maybe, if I were as delusional as Amara.

  “Oh come on,” I said. The wind blew my hair into my eyes. I pulled it away and tucked it behind my ears. “Aren’t there any other nice griffins for you to date?” I asked, taking two steps back toward the porch. “You’re cute. You come from a good…clan,” I said, revising the rah-rah speech I’d given my single friends over the years. “It’s time for you to move on.”

  She practically snarled. “You may have helped him get those pain-in-the-ass sisters back”—she closed the distance between us, her chin quivering—“but now you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

  “Pain in the ass?” Interesting. They didn’t look like bosom buddies in there, but I hadn’t realized the venom ran so deep. I wondered if Dyonne and Diana knew.

  Amara towered a step above, looming like a spectre of Valentines past. “Dimitri doesn’t owe you his life, and I won’t have him giving up his pure-blood future on a whim.”

  Ah, so she hadn’t sensed the change in him, that I’d given him part of my demon slayer essence to save his life. We still didn’t know all of the ramifications from that par ticular move.

  She leaned closer, her eyes cold. I felt her breath on my cheek, like she expected me to back away. Little did she know, I was used to hanging out with biker witches named Ant Eater and Crazy Frieda.

  I sighed. If we hadn’t needed Amara, I’d have told her where to go. But since we didn’t have time to be standing around debating…

  “Can we just do what we came out here to do?”

  She stared at me, her face smooth, beautiful and uncomfortably close. I blinked, waiting. “Every minute you stand here is another minute you get to spend with me.”

  That did it. She lifted her chin. “Fine. Follow me.”

  Peonies and night-blossoming jasmine lined the wide garden path. We passed small ponds with big, fat fish. Up to our right, I could see a life-size statue of a naked man, turned to display an amazing backside. His bronze muscles stretched tight as he opened his arms to the sky. On top of his head, a stained-glass crown of orange and red caught the setting sun.

  “That’s Helios,” Amara said, as if she knew where my eyes had gone. “Ancient god of the sun.” She paused and bowed her head slightly, giving the statue more respect than she’d shown me, Diana and Dyonne combined. Helios was the namesake of Dimitri’s clan, not hers.

  I gave the statue another look. “Nice butt.” Although my own Helios man had a better one.

  “Helios married a minor water goddess,�
� Amara said, with a superior toss of her hair.

  She had to get that in there.

  I’d have admired her persis tence if it didn’t make me want to tip her into a nearby pond.

  When is she leaving again?

  Biting my lip, I fought back a whole string of Southern comebacks. I was raised better. Besides, I had bigger things to worry about—like the part of me that had gone missing.

  I plucked a fat leaf off the next bush we passed. It snapped thick and sticky under my fingers as I shredded it. Of course, the sooner we could get on with the ceremony and hustle Amara out of here, the better.

  “Are we almost there?” I asked, my sandals crunching on the rock path.

  Amara hummed, clearly in her own little world.

  After a few more minutes of walking, she said, “Dimitri’s late father gifted me with my own meditation area in the main gazebo,” Amara said. “In time, I’d like to have it expanded and perhaps even have it enclosed. It would make a wonderful three-season room.”

  I ignored her. And for a second, I almost felt sorry for her. It would be horrible to plan your life around somebody who didn’t feel the same.

  We made our way past the last of the rosebushes and into a clearing where four paths converged around a gorgeous stone pavilion. It reminded me of a small, round version of a Greek temple. A series of white stone steps led to entrances on four sides. And at each point, sky blue pillars supported a high, domed ceiling.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  She nodded, opening a small outlet cover at the base and flipping switches until tiny white lights illuminated the structure inside and out. It gave it an otherworldly glow that made the growing dusk seem even darker. I straightened and looked out at the growing shadows of the garden. The insects seemed louder, the air heavier.

  “Come.” Amara smoothed her dress and ascended the stairs as if they were altar steps.

  The painted frescoes on the inside resembled a clear blue sky, with streaks of sun darting from the blaze of heat in the center. It was as if the Helios clan watched over this very spot. As we neared the top of the stairs, I saw painted waves cresting over the polished stone floor.

  “It’s a potent place for me,” Amara said.

  “Is it magical?” I asked.

  “Only to me. As you know, memories hold power.”

  She leaned back against a pillar and closed her eyes. “This is where Dimitri kissed me for the first time.”

  I couldn’t help it. I had to look away. I willed my stomach to unclench as I took the last few stairs with my eyes on my feet. My joints stiffened, but I kept going. I didn’t even want to imagine those two together. In fact, she needed to pack up and leave as soon as this ceremony was over.

  “So what exactly are we going to do here?” I asked, making my way away from her and the pillar. A large stone table looked as though it was permanently affixed at the midpoint of the circle. Stone dolphins frolicked at the base.

  She opened her eyes slowly. “I’m going to perform a ceremony that will link me to both you and Dimitri.”

  Apprehension snaked through my body. “Linked? How so?”

  She seemed lost in thought. “Think of it as a psychic tie. When I’m tuned into both you and Dimitri, I’ll be able to sense exactly what he took from you.”

  Amazing. Creepy, yet—I had to admit—exactly what we needed.

  I ran my hand along the cool stone of the table. This woman could sense a part of me I couldn’t even feel. She may not have had couth, but she had talent. And if Dimitri trusted her, I had no choice but to do the same.

  Amara leaned against the pillar and stared out into the garden. “His magic will feel like him,” she said, with a little too much relish for my taste. “I’ll know it instantly. Once I get a handle on his protective magic—and the part of you it holds—we can trace the individual who has stolen it.”

  “Kind of like following psychic bread crumbs,” I said.

  She gave me a withering look. “You Americans are so crass.”

  “But am I right?”

  “Yes, that’s an accurate enough way of describing what you can’t hope to understand.”

  I leaned against the table, arms crossed. “I’m going to be so glad when you’re gone.”

  “Likewise,” she said. “Now if you will be seated.” Amara moved to a small armoire on the far end and unlocked it. “We’ll prepare.”

  The coolness of the stone bench seeped through me as Amara placed several objects on the table. A small painted urn, an assortment of shells and—

  “A bronze knife?”

  “You are familiar with griffin magic?” she asked. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

  She filled seven crystal bowls with clear water and arranged them in a circle. Smirking, she placed an eighth bowl in front of me. This one was metal and banged up a bit. Next to it, she placed the longest, sharpest pair of scissors I’d ever seen. And for the crowning glory? A razor.

  “You’ll have to use soap,” she said, turning back to her supply closet. “I don’t keep shaving cream out here.”

  Dread swelled in my stomach. “Exactly what am I shaving?”

  She turned to me, positively radiant. “Why, your head of course.”

  I about tipped over sideways. “Oh no.”

  “And your arms and your legs if you have any stubble,” she said, wrinkling her nose as if I were some kind of scraggly thing. “I need you completely hair free.”

  I didn’t get it. “How does hair get in the way of magic?”

  Granted, I’d only seen magic through the eyes of Grandma and the Red Skull witches. They were hairy. They also did a lot of strange things with ingredients I didn’t want to keep in my backyard, much less in a spell cabinet. But the Red Skulls had one big thing going for them—deep down, I knew without a doubt they cared about me. Amara would just as soon throw me under a bus.

  “I’m not doing it,” I told her. Not without a lot more explanation.

  Her eyes widened. “We have to do it. For Dimitri.”

  There had been one other time where I’d refused to do something during a magical ceremony. That had come back to bite me. Hard. But that was a long time ago, at least in terms of my demon slayer training. Things had changed. I’d changed. I was no longer on the outside of the magical world, looking in. I’d been to hell and back. Twice. I’d honed my skills and my natural feelings, and right now my instincts were telling me no.

  “I knew it,” she said. “I knew you didn’t really love him!” I saw the fear in her eyes but something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  It put me right into teacher mode. Eight years of dealing with preschoolers will teach you a thing or two about when somebody is fudging.

  And how to flip it right back on them.

  I dug into the pocket of my sundress and pulled out my cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?” she demanded.

  “The Red Skulls,” I said calmly, hoping Amara didn’t know my phone was not international. Heck, after the long flight here, I doubted it was even charged. “My grandmother is a powerful witch. I’d like to get a second opinion.”

  Amara pursed her lips as I dialed.

  “Of course, if you’re lying,” I added, doing my best to act unconcerned, “I know a couple of sisters who wouldn’t mind holding you down while I shaved your head.”

  Okay, that was pushing it, but I had a hunch Diana and Dyonne would back me up.

  Amara seemed to feel the same way. “Fine,” she hissed. “No shaving.” Color dotted her cheeks. “I need a snippet of your hair and your name on a piece of paper.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” I said, flipping my phone closed. I needed a trim anyway.

  “Do it now,” she said, shoving the scissors at me. “It needs to soak for at least a half hour.”

  I drew my black hair over my shoulder, noting some split ends. It’s not like I’d had time for a proper trim since I became a demon slayer. Saving the world had com
e first.

  When I’d snipped away at least some of my split ends, I sprinkled them into each of the seven bowls.

  Amara followed me, plunking royal blue stones into each dish. I could feel her watching me. When we were finished, she handed me a crystal fountain pen.

  “He needs me,” she said, almost under her breath.

  I eyed her as I scratched out my name on a section of thick parchment. “Look, as much as I’d like to debate with you about my relationship, the fact of the matter is that I love Dimitri and he loves me.” I handed her the paper.

  She began shaking her head slowly, but I forged on. “I can understand your not wanting to be around us, and that’s fine. I’m glad you stayed and I’m very glad you can help us with the missing magic. After that, you’re going to have to let go.”

  “I’m not helping you, Lizzie,” she said slowly, folding the parchment into teeny tiny pieces. “You are a side effect. I’m helping Dimitri. I love Dimitri. As misguided as he is, I wouldn’t be able to bear it if something happened to him—especially because of you.” She pinched the paper tight. “Retrieving the magic he used to find you will be the last step in his mission to save his annoying sisters. I’m honored to have a part in this final chapter,” she said, eyes blazing. “Years from now, he’s going to love me for it.”

  I didn’t bother responding. It wouldn’t matter to her, and besides, I could see Dimitri walking out of the darkness of the garden.

  Amara smoothed her dress. “Please,” she said, motioning to the table.

  I sat facing Amara, and Dimitri slid onto the seat next to me, his thigh coming to rest against mine. “Where are your sisters?” I asked. Or for that matter, Amara’s brother.

  “They’re back at the house,” he said. “Unlike your family’s magic, which seems to thrive on chaos, our clan works best when we focus our energies.”

  I nodded. It made sense. Yet as I looked out into the blackness of the gardens, I couldn’t help feeling a little exposed.

  When my hair had soaked in the bowls and Amara had sung a lilting melody in Greek, we were finally ready.

  “Quiet now.” She stood opposite us and held her hands over the table. “I call to my spirit guides. To Maia. To Aethra. I call to those who can see the yet unseen.” A soft wind scattered her hair about her face as she closed her eyes, transfixed. The water in the bowls began to bubble softly.