by Angie Fox
Dimitri took to the shoulder to stay with Sid, which made for a teeth-rattling ride. It's like the man tried to hit every pothole and anthill.
We drove at butt-numbing speeds, veering off the highway and onto a series of smaller roads. Finally, we ended up on a dirt path leading to—according to the beat-up wooden sign—Rancho Verde. I'd believe it when I saw it.
The bike lurched and jarred behind Sid's aquamarine cab. And, phew, there was no escape from the massive dust cloud Sid's cab hurled at us. From the slight cotton-candy taste, I'd say he'd made it as large as he could. I closed my eyes against the grit and buried my head against Dimitri's back.
The bike jerked to a stop outside a series of rough wooden buildings. Moonshine Bart's Old West Town lay straight ahead, dark and silent. The Critter Corner Petting Zoo, lit with red and white holiday lights, veered off to the right, past a wooden bridge that looked like it belonged on a playground.
I yanked off my helmet. "Are you serious, Sid?"
The fairy leaned his head out the window, "Past the petting zoo and the Wild West restaurant."
Dimitri wrapped my hand in his. "Come on."
Pirate struggled against his doggie carrier as we jogged past clucking chickens, the fattest pig I'd ever seen, and an armadillo. Some zoo. Off a side path, we saw light coming from a series of low-slung wooden cabins. Horses whinnied in a pasture behind them. Other than that, I couldn't see much—except a certain witch barreling toward us, her flashlight bobbing in the dark. Ant Eater. She'd tried to kick my butt on several occasions—and nearly succeeded. That was before I drew a demon attack on the coven. Not that it was my fault, but coolheaded logic was not one of Ant Eater's strong suits.
"Before you say it—" I didn't have time to deal with her WWE people skills.
She lobbed the flashlight at my head and frowned when it whistled past my ear. "What the hell do you want?"
I swallowed down my annoyance and tried to look at the bright side. At least she hadn't kicked me in the shins. "I need to see my grandma."
She looked at me like I'd told her I wanted to eat the woman. "Screw you. She's busy."
Prickles ran from my marked hand up my arm. I found it easier and easier to feel the power from the mark. Not good.
"Can you just tell Grandma we're here?" I asked, fighting the urge to rub my hand up and down my leg.
Ant Eater planted her hands on her hips, her wide face twisting into a sneer. "You got about ten seconds to run—not walk—run back to your bike or I'm spelling your skinny ass to West Texas before this place blows up, too."
"You listen to me," I said, my finger bouncing against something hard and fluttery. I shoved it back at Ant Eater and she jumped sideways. That jerk had tried to sneak-spell me.
Quicker than I'd ever moved, I grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her. "Don't." I tightened my grip. "Screw. With. The demon slayer." I twisted her pinkie fingers, in case she hadn't quite gotten the point.
Ant Eater groaned. "Son of a bitch," she gasped. "Your left ball finally dropped." She flicked her head at the dirt path behind her. "Go."
I eased up and she stepped back, shaking out her hands, her eyes lingering on my devil's mark. "Third cabin from the right. Your grandma's brewing up some stealth technology in the bathtub."
I nodded. The tingling had grown worse, like my entire arm had fallen asleep. Dimitri fitted his hand into the small of my back. I could tell he sensed something was up. Bless him for letting me handle it my way. Together, we made our way toward the cabins.
"Another thing," Ant Eater hollered, still flexing her fingers. "Don't touch the door frame."
Of course not.
Since I knew better than to ask questions that I really didn't want answered, I made my way to see Grandma.
Chapter Twenty-two
I opened the door to a third-rate hotel room decorated in contemporary biker witch. Silver thumbtacks bit into the brown paneling on the walls, supporting long swaths of dental floss that crisscrossed the room like party lights. The floss sagged with the remains of a colorful quilt, butchered into long strips, hanging in jagged rainbows, dripping, well, who knew what. The place reeked of mildew and cherry Kool-Aid.
Covering my head, I ducked under the wilting jangle of sorcery and went to find Grandma.
It wasn't hard. I could hear her singing a Prince song from the bathroom.
"Grandma?" I desperately hoped we weren't walking into a Pretty Woman moment.
I exchanged a glance with Dimitri. His green eyes twinkled as he dodged a low-hanging string. Leave it to Dimitri to be amused.
Not to mention my dog. "Pirate, stop dancing."
Grandma began humming the melody and I heard something else—growling.
She'd better not have summoned any creatures in there. "Grandma." I banged on the door, leaping sideways as a scalding drip caught me right in the forehead. "Son of a mother!"
"Lizzie!" Dimitri rushed for me, rubbing the acid away with his bare fingers. "Are you okay?"
"Are you?" I asked, trying to get a grip as the pain subsided into a dull throb. "I'm fine," I said, when I realized he wasn't going to stop inspecting me.
Dimitri planted a swift kiss on my forehead. "Step back." He leaned against the old brown door, ready to force it when it flew open on its own.
Grandma stood with a drafting pencil tucked behind her ear and a towel bar under her arm. Chunks of drywall clung to each curved end of the bar. She'd tied reddened quilt strips to her wrists like poor man's sweatbands and had even fashioned a homemade necklace out of the things. "You're late," she said, ushering us into the tiny bathroom with peeling cowboy wallpaper and an extra toilet bowl propped up against a 1970s yellow tub. It had to be at least ten degrees hotter in here—and muggy. I don't know why we always had to end up in the bathroom.
"Now where are my barriers?" Grandma muttered, digging through the cabinet under the sink. She peered into the bottom of a pink and brown crocheted tissue holder. "I had some dry ones…"
Pirate stuck his head under the sink with Grandma, while I worked my way past their protruding behinds and next to my agile, yet admittedly smushed griffin. He tried to make room for me and accidentally stepped on the furry red tail of a fox. The animal screeched and darted behind a stained wicker trash can.
"Argh." Grandma handed Dimitri the towel bar and went digging for the fox. "I need the toenails of a happy fox, which is hard enough because foxes hate having their toenails clipped." She bent down and wrangled the animal into her arms. "That'a boy," she cooed, stroking the fox. "Yes. You're all right, Zippy."
"Zippy?" Pirate tilted his head.
Grandma rubbed her fingers into the downy white fur under the fox's neck. "Yeah, well the gal who runs this place is a little zippity-do-dah herself. But I ain't complaining, seeing as the DIP office gave us a place to stay while we clear out some of the gargoyles."
"Gargoyles?" I instinctively checked the high corners of the bathroom. No gargoyles. Just lots of flaking paint.
"Well, yeah. You can keep a few to ward off the evil spirits, but the things breed like rabbits." Grandma scratched Zippy under his chin and he started growling again. Or, I supposed, purring. "Believe me, we're taking our time. The longer this place is shut down, the better. You know how hard it'd be to spot a demon in a Wild West town full of tourists?"
I shuddered to think.
Dimitri inspected the tub. "Mind telling me what you're brewing, Gertie?" A pale red liquid filled the lower third. In it floated tree bark, some kind of flowers and, I assumed, fox toenails. He dipped a finger into the gunk and held it up to the light, his features clouding as he took stock of Grandma's scowl.
"No time, Sherlock. We gotta get you protected." She tucked the fox under her arm and hauled an old trash can full of quilt guts from under the sink.
Dimitri frowned at her back. At least they weren't fighting.
"Mmm," Pirate scampered up on his hind legs to see inside the tub. "Smells like strawberries and lea
fy bits."
Dimitri removed Pirate gently, while aiming a hard stare at Grandma. "You'd better not be brewing up any Mind Bender spells in here. Even if you could generate enough firepower to bend a demon, you don't have the equipment or the proper ventilation."
"I know that." Grandma shot back. "We almost blew up Scarlet's cabin trying. That there's an invisibility spell, so the demons can't get an aura-lock on the coven."
She checked the medicine cabinet on the wall. "Well, I don't see any dry barriers. Bob must've used 'em. Wanted one for every spoke on his wheelchair." Grandma let the fox curl up on a bed of towels and motioned for us to clear out of the bathroom. "Now hurry up or I might as well paint a big target on your foreheads."
I touched her arm. The stress of the trip had gotten to her. She had dark circles under her eyes and a fatigue about her that wasn't there before. "I'm sorry for what happened at the hotel."
She shrugged. "Past is past," she said, shoving me out the door. "Truth be told, I didn't mind you showing a little backbone."
She led us into the drippy room. "Grab some barriers," Grandma plucked a handful of sodden quilt strips from a line above her head and shoved them at Dimitri. "The demons won't be able to detect you until they see you. Tie them at your pulse points, where your blood flows the hottest. Grab extras, as many as you can carry."
I hoped these things had cooled off a bit. I grabbed the end of a strip and felt like I'd dunked my fingers in a pot of liquid nitrogen. "Son of a daisy eater!" I yanked my hand back. There went my Wicked in Westchester fingernail polish, along with the first layer of skin. Holy hoo-doo. "What did you put in these things?"
Grandma's lack of reaction betrayed her as much as the flush that crept up her neck. "I used an antidemonic spell."
"Oh hell." Fighting not to cringe, I turned my palms up.
Grandma ignored the angry red burns on my fingertips as she gripped my wrist and studied my marked palm. The swirling 6-6-6 had eaten its way deep into my skin, like a heavy scar, the edges still wrinkled and pink.
"You knew about this?" she shot at Dimitri.
The muscles in his jaw worked. "Of course I knew," he said, his voice clipped. "I stayed with Lizzie."
"Tell me about the mark," I said, before this turned into a boxing match. "I'm counting on you to be straight."
Her fingers bit into mine. "You want straight?" Her blue eyes burned hot and angry. "Here's straight. What the fuck were you thinking?"
I snatched my hand away. "I didn't do this."
Grandma searched my face. "You sure?"
I held my palm over her, daring her to push me. "I think I would know if I chose to absorb demon powers or a devil's mark or whatever the frick is happening to me."
She shoved her chin forward, glaring at my upturned palm.
Grandma pursed her lips, blowing a long breath out of her nose. "I can't believe I'm saying this to my grandbaby." She shook her head, her anger draining. "I don't know how or why you did it, but facts are facts. You opened a pathway."
"There's no way to prove that," Dimitri countered. "We don't know they've tagged her."
Grandma raised a brow. "She reacted to my spell."
"I'm also invisible to demons now," I said, remembering the way they couldn't detect me when they hadn't seen me in the theater.
Grandma backed off like a doctor after a physical. She reached for a handful of Kool-Aid red quilt strips and scrubbed her hands. "When were you going to tell me about this?"
Like my favorite learn-on-the-job witch was going to tell me anything. Besides, I'd been trying to get her away from me, not involved more.
"Look, we aren't here for protection." At least I wasn't. I glanced over at Dimitri, tying strips of fabric to each of Pirate's legs. Something inside me fractured a little. I couldn't even help my dog. "We need to channel Phil."
"Ha! Is that all?" She tossed the strips onto the bed. "Can't do it. Not after what happened when we called up Bloody Mary. They can see us," she snorted, "me, anyway. It'd be suicide."
Maybe she could teach me. I wouldn't normally risk it, but we were running out of options here. "The demons are gathering because they have a portal open. They're planning a power surge tomorrow night."
Surprise brushed across her features. "You don't know that," she said, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
"Lizzie heard it herself," Dimitri said, tying a strip to Pirate's tail for extra protection. "Once they have six hundred sixty-six demons here, they'll be able to open the portal wide. All hell's going to break loose."
Dimitri shoved a handful of strips into his pocket and sat next to Grandma on the drippy bed. "Phil is the key to stopping the demons tomorrow night. We need to find him."
Her eyes widened. "And Pop said he'd never amount to anything," she said, almost to herself. " 'Course that was the day he took apart Dad's barbecue pit to make me a suit of armor. Kids can be cruel, 'cept for your Uncle Phil." Grandma gave an uncharacteristic sniff, buried in a cough.
We'd get him back. "I have the focus object," I said pulling out the bow tie we'd used in our disaster of a ceremony at the Paradise hotel.
Grandma took it, careful not to touch me. "Don't I wish we could make use of this again," she said, twirling it around her finger. "Still, you know what happened when I tried to channel Phil the last time. Serena spotted me faster than green grass through a goose."
Sure, we failed before, but that was before I had my mark. What good would my extra power be if I didn't use it? "I can do it."
"What?" Grandma and Dimitri said in unison. Oh good. They finally agreed.
It made perfect sense. "The demons can't see me." Grandma could tell me what to do. I was the only one who could do it.
Dimitri looked like he wanted to clamp his hand over my mouth. "It's too dangerous," he told Grandma. "We don't even understand the mark."
She nodded. "And Lizzie's not a witch."
Hello? Over here. "You let me in the coven."
Grandma looked me up and down. "You're too young," she said.
"I'm thirty."
"You don't know how," Dimitri added.
"Grandma can teach me."
"Lizzie—" Dimitri began.
Enough. "Will you two stop agreeing? We know we have to act soon or we're fried. Now is the time. Phil needs us. Dimitri, you need this."
He shot off the bed. "Don't you even think about sacrificing yourself for me."
Mistake. "Okay, what about Vegas? The West Coast? The entire planet is screwed if they get that portal all the way open. This isn't going away on its own and I—me—I have the power to stop it."
Grandma raked the quilt strips through her hands.
"You know I'm right," I said.
"Six hundred sixty-six. All coming tomorrow night." Grandma had gone completely still. "Damned if I ever thought I'd see the day." She swiped at the corners of her eyes. "Fine. We'll do it your way. But you have to do exactly what I say."
Chapter Twenty-three
With a grunt, Grandma launched herself off the bed and yanked open the outside door. "Frieda!" she hollered. The blonde witch rushed up in a jangle of plastic jewelry. "Get Scarlet." She glanced back at me. "Prep the Cave of Visions. Have Sidecar Bob fetch up those armadillos from last night. We're doing a channeling."
Relief surged through me, mixed with acute paralyzing fear.
How was a demon slayer on a permit supposed to stop Armageddon?
Dimitri looked as though he'd been punched in the stomach.
Grandma turned to us. "I wish I knew how to find some help for you, sport, but you're it." She checked her watch. "Ceremony starts at nine o'clock."
That gave us an hour and a half to get ready. "Is that a magic time?" I asked.
"No. That's about how long it'll take Frieda to get to Wal-Mart and back."
"Lizzie." Dimitri touched me and I pulled back. Something bad was happening to me. Back on the bike, he hadn't been able to drain me, but what if I could do it to him now?
<
br /> The hurt registered in his eyes.
Grandma watched our exchange with an inscrutable expression.
Ant Eater ducked her head in the door. "Scarlet needs the skull for the cave, Frieda wants to know how many guppies you need, and—wait," she leaned her head out the door, "and if you want fancy or plain guppies, and Sidecar Bob needs Pirate to help him unwrap eighteen dozen Twinkies."
My dog hopped up like the place was on fire. "Twinkies? I can help with the Twinkies! I know all about snack cakes."
"Fine. I'll be there in a second," Grandma said. "Now you two get."
"Come on." Dimitri took my hand and led me outside.
The warm desert air felt wonderful, especially after the antidemonic stench in Grandma's cabin. I could still smell the acid of the protection strips Dimitri carried in his front pocket.
He tugged me onto a rocky trail that ran alongside the stables. Horses whinnied beyond the age-stained walls and the odor of fresh manure ran strong. Gargoyles circled in the moonlit sky, their staccato calls piercing the night.
"You need to be as powerful as you can for the channeling," Dimitri stated, as if he was telling me to eat my vegetables.
I nodded. I knew I'd need everything I had.
"If I can take from you, I can give to you."
"What?" I stammered. No way was I going to be like the succubi draining him, even if we could find a way for it to work.
"I'm a griffin. We are protectors. What good am I if I can't protect what's mine?"
I wasn't going to debate the "mine" part, just the obvious point. "I'm not taking anything from you," I said, running a hand along the rough-hewn boards as we walked.
"Regardless of what you think of me now," Dimitri said, "I came here to help you. You need to learn how to accept it." Dimitri scanned the horizon. "And me."
"I don't know, Dimitri." He'd already risked too much.
"You created the connection when you gave me part of your essence. Now that I know it's there, I can feel it. Trust me, Lizzie. Let me redeem myself." I felt for the raw spot between us as he tugged me into his arms. "Let me save us." His voice rumbled with promise.
