by Angie Fox
"What are you doing?"
"Basic fairy protection," he said, hurrying. "We use coins for good wishes, but the positive energy can also work against evil spirits, or any basic malicious entity."
Another dose of cold power blasted the stairs and more pennies scattered down the steps.
"Cripes. We're down seven," he said, lobbing them back up. He glanced over his shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra change, would you?"
I hitched my switch star and began digging in my pockets. "Two quarters and a dime."
His eyes lit up. "Oh yes. That's good. We like the big spenders."
I'd never been accused of that. "What is this?"
"Wish magic," he said, carefully arranging the coins on the bottom steps. "Only this is a lot more powerful that what you humans do when you throw pennies in the fountain at the park."
No kidding. "Is that where we got it?"
"Of course. Now aim for the top. As you throw it, wish for the darkness to fade. I want to get as many up there as I can."
"Okay," I said, stepping onto the bottom stair.
"Wait. No!" He grabbed for my arm and his fingers went straight through. "You'll be incinerated!"
"How?" I froze, one foot on the stairway, scattering change as I drew a switch star.
Phil's eyes had gone wide with shock. They darted to me, then down to my foot, then back up at me. "By stepping on the stair," he said slowly.
He gawked at me like I was the crazy part of this equation.
"Yes, well I suppose that's one advantage of being a demon slayer," I said, suddenly embarrassed. Of course there were a whole lot of disadvantages as well, one being whatever was waiting for me on the second floor.
"Keep up the magic down here," I said, double checking my switch stars, "I'm going to go see what's eating your quarters."
Phil's nostrils flared. I could see he was torn. "I can't protect you, Lizzie. Not up there."
"I know," I said, my hand hovering above his arm, wishing I could give him a little reassurance. "Maybe I can protect you."
Chapter 3
I took one step at a time, trying not to disturb the change, more for Phil's sake than my own. If I failed up here, he'd need the protection.
The coins were slick under my feet as I made my way upward.
The evil at the top of the stairs pulsed with energy. It called to me as the air temperature plummeted.
I blew out a breath and watched it cloud. Ice meant evil.
My fingers tightened in the handle of my switch star.
Focus.
This wasn't about me. It was about what needed to be done up here. I braced myself on the second to last step.
It was pitch black beyond the doorway. I could almost feel whatever-it-was breathing in the darkness. Adrenaline slammed through my veins.
I reached into the front left pocket of my weapons belt and drew out a Lamp Spell, a little something special Grandma had brewed up for me. It skittered across the floor and light burst from the broken gas lights along the walls of the second floor hallway.
It illuminated a narrow hallway and a portal unlike any I'd ever seen before.
H-e-double-hockey-sticks. It was as large as two people and glowed with an unearthly blue fire. Sparks scattered from it, charring the walls and floor. It thrummed, as if it were trying to grow.
My mouth went dry. I gripped the entry way as it slowly began to advance on me.
Could I switch star a portal?
I didn't know.
Portals thrived on energy. For all I knew, my switch star would be like hitting it with a power boost.
Hell.
"Grandma?" I called down the stairs. There was no response. Either she couldn't hear me or she couldn't get close. I wasn't about to turn my back on this thing to find out.
"Oh frick." I didn't have much of a choice here. I drew back, ready to fire.
"Wait!" A red headed witch stepped from behind the pulsing blue mass.
It hit me like a rock to the stomach. "Scarlet?"
She was supposed to have gone to the light. I wanted that for her, needed it. She'd died saving me. She deserved some peace.
But there she stood, in black leather pants and an emerald bustier. She flipped her long red hair behind her shoulder as she gathered her composure. I think she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
"They told me you'd moved on," I said.
"Not yet," she said, worry creasing her brow. "I can't leave everyone else here. They refuse to go," she said, as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"They need to leave," I said, thinking of the trashed Betty. "But you can't make that decision for them."
"Oh so you want me to abandon them here forever?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Typical, coming from you. Always the individual. You never thought about the group."
That wasn't true, but I wasn't about to get into it with her. I flinched as the portal spit a blue spark way too close to my arm. "Whatever you're working on here has gone bad." Besides, "I don't think our friends want to go." At least, not yet.
"Doesn't matter," she said, as if it were fact. "I'm going to save them whether they like it or not." She smiled, a sweet turn of the lips laced with venom. "So kindly keep your switch stars away from my portal."
I shook my head. "You're messing with free will, Scarlet." No wonder evil had seeped in. "This is a portal to a bad realm."
"Impossible," she said, her eyes widening as I drew back to fire. She rushed to stand in front of the pulsing blue mass, blocking me.
"Move aside," I ordered.
"No." She was frantic now. "It will go to the light. I'll make sure it does."
The portal was growing behind her. "You can't choose that for anyone but yourself, Scarlet." My fingers whitened on the grips of the switch star. "Now back away." I didn't want to take a chance on her getting hit, but I wasn't about to let this thing get any more out of hand than it was.
"Don't fuck this up, Lizzie. You can't fuck this up," she hollered, shaking, tears in her eyes as she scurried to the edge of the hissing portal. "I'm not going to leave them behind."
"Scarlet, no!" I drew back and fired as she shoved it straight for me.
Chapter 4
I dove to the floor as my switch star slammed into the portal. Energy shot out, singing my arms and numbing my teeth.
The brightness blinded me for a moment. I lay clutching the floor, blinking against the dots. Horrified, I saw the portal zoom straight over me and down the stairs.
"Son of a—" I took off after it, with Scarlet right behind.
She hit me with a blast of power as we dashed headlong for the runaway gateway to God-knew-what. I felt it like an electric punch to the back. Coins popped underfoot. I grabbed for the railing as she tried to throw me down the stairs.
"Duck!" I screamed at Phil, who hit the deck as it zoomed past him.
"Red Skulls! Defensive positions." Grandma hollered from behind him, her voice clear above the fray.
Witches dove under tables and behind the bar as the portal swooped low, zapping two outlaws, the stereo system and a cowboy strumming a guitar.
Phil was still on the floor. I dropped to my knees next to him. "What do we do?"
He swung a fist straight through me and into Scarlet. She went down in a heap. He sat up, breathing hard, grey hair wild. "I'd never hit a lady, but she was about to hex you."
"She's not a lady anymore," I said, urging him behind the nearest overturned table. "I don't know what she is anymore."
The portal zipped over the bar, shattering glasses and exploding the long gold mirror. A ghostly piano player plopped down on the bench and began playing the Wabash Cannonball as cowboys and outlaws went after the portal, guns blazing.
"Fire in the hole!" Grandma hollered as a wave of spell jars blasted the portal. It shimmered, turning purple and then back to blue.
Our biker witch reinforcements poured into the bar, led by Pirate.
"Let '
er rip!" Grandma hollered. This time, the portal shook under the onslaught.
Grandma dove behind our table. "Lizzie, we need one last blast of juice," she said, digging a jar out of her pack as the piano banged and witches scrambled to re-load.
"You ready?" she asked as I drew a switch star and focused all my energy, all my love, all my desire on blasting that deadly gate to hell where it belonged.
"Ready."
She gripped my shoulder. "Hold back until I tell you," she said, standing up. "And…fire!" She threw the jar like Roberto Clemente.
The portal shot sparks as each spell slammed into it.
"Go, Lizzie!" I threw and as the portal turned purple, my switch star tore a hole straight through it.
The biker witches and the outlaws cheered as it folded in on itself, sparking and hissing. It collapsed in on its own energy until it disappeared with a loud crack, sucked back to wherever it came.
I knelt on the floor, sweating as Phil and I stared at each other wide eyed.
"I'd say we did it," he said, in the understatement of the year.
I forgot and tried to embrace him. Naturally, I went straight through. "Damn it." The air was warm and smelled like bubblegum, which made me smile.
"Don't curse," he said, grinning as wide as I was.
Yeah, well I was hanging around the biker witches too much.
"Did we lose any?" Grandma asked, finger jabbing as she counted the witches. She exhaled. "We didn't lose anybody."
Just a few outlaws and the blackjack dealer. I clapped her on the shoulder, as relieved as she was. We always seemed to lose somebody.
The biker witches were dusting off, hugging, sharing whiskey bottles and greeting the reinforcements. It was a reunion all over again.
"Wait." I scanned the bar. "Where's Scarlet?"
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, Phil's coins sizzling on her ghostly flesh, a death spell in each hand.
I approached her slowly, one hand on my switch stars. But much of the fight had already gone out of her.
She stood, bewildered. "What happened to me?" she asked, almost to herself. "What did I do?"
"It's okay," I said, stopping a few feet away. "You're back with us now." I imagined a shimmering white tunnel above her head. I could feel it, open and ready.
"But," she stared at the path above her, torn.
"Go, Scarlet." She deserved warmth. She deserved peace. "Go to the light."
Fear glanced across her features, replaced with a firm resolve. She nodded to me, accepting at last. "Thanks, Lizzie."
"I'll never forget what you did for me," I said.
She smiled faintly and then tilted her face toward the light.
Scarlet rose up, becoming one with it, and at that moment, I too felt peaceful.
The bar had gone quiet as the biker witches, both alive and dead, stood watching.
"You should go too," I said to the rest of the ghosts.
They murmured among themselves, not moving. Carl shook his head slowly.
He walked up to me, the steel chains of his biker boots clinking with every step. "I wasn't lying when I said you needed us, Lizzie." He stopped, studying me. "There's a revolution brewing in hell."
"I know." I was going to have to face it. "But it's not your war."
He seemed surprised at that. "Of course it is. When each of us died, we were given a choice. Go to the light or wait to make a difference."
I stood, not sure what to say, as I looked out on the bar full of ghostly biker witches.
"We're your last line of defense," Carl continued, "and I don't mind saying, I think you're going to need our help."
"From ghost bikers?" I was still trying to wrap my head around it.
Grandma chuckled. "Is there any better kind?"
"What about them?" I asked, as a table full of cowboys broke out into an off-key rendition of The Yellow Rose of Texas.
One who could definitely use a shower and a shave guffawed. "Peace and light ain't what we're after."
Obviously. "Then what are the rest of you waiting for?"
"A good fight," said his buddy. The men at the table cheered and stomped their boots against the dusty wood floor.
Yeah, well I could probably arrange that.
A tussle broke out between the outlaws at the bar. "We'll just have a little fun here until you need us." Carl grinned as Betty handed him a shot.
"How will I know how to find you?" I looked out at the motley crew of outlaws and bikers. It wasn't like we'd be fighting demons in the middle of the desert.
"You'll find us," he said, toasting me before downing his whiskey. "You might not need us right away. But when the time comes, we'll be here."
"I'm glad," I said, and heaven help me—I was.
* * *
Enjoy more of Lizzie’s adventures with the biker witches in the Accidental Demon Slayer series by Angie Fox
Date With A Demon Slayer
Chapter 1
"What do you mean you sent my anniversary present back?" I stared at the silver haired biker witch. She wore chaps, a leather jacket with fringe, and had an obnoxious rhinestone skull do-rag knotted around her neck. Sue me when I felt the urge to yank it tighter.
Yes, my Grandmother's gang of witches was…unusual. Word had it, they'd been a regular coven before a demon had kept them on the run for thirty years. After that, they'd had to move fast, stay on the road. They'd started riding Harleys. Then came the biker nicknames, the tattoos, and boyfriends named Lizard Lips. The rest was history.
At the moment, I was tempted to call Ant Eater by her real name. Mildred.
Her eyes widened behind her green tinted hippie sunglasses as I glared at her. She held up her hands. "I'm telling you, Lizzie, it looked like another box of empty beer cans."
That got a definite frown from the hunky shape-shifting griffin to my right. "The package was addressed to me," he growled.
Damn. I always liked having him on my side. Luckily, I'd been smart enough to marry him. Dimitri stood a foot above the tallest one of us, a wall of muscle and grit. And I'd never get enough of my husband's lyrical Greek accent, even now, with Ant Eater pulling one of her stunts.
"Fairy mail usually requires a signature," I said.
Fae paths were strictly regulated. Reliable, too. Fairy postal workers could find anyone, anywhere in two to three business days. It was the best way to get things while we were on the road.
Ant Eater shook her head. "If you want to return something, you just gotta tell them it isn't for you." She blew out a breath. "I should have looked at the whole who it was addressed to thing," she said with a wince, which was as close to an apology as we'd get. She shot a glare at the blonde witch closing in on her left. "I was trying to save our asses. I don't care if Frieda collects what she drinks," she said, turning up the volume, "but if that woman doesn't stop ordering beer cans on eBay, we're going to be buried in rusty Schlitz cans."
"Those cans are vintage," Frieda said, as if we were dissing her children. "You show me a 1954 Schlitz that doesn't have rust." She brought a bright pink painted fingernail to her chin. "And if we're cleaning up, maybe I should toss all those bras you have hanging down by the creek."
That earned her a glare from Ant Eater. "Do it and you die."
"What the frick, people?" I asked. And when did this become my life?
Yes, I'd run off with my grandma's gang of biker witches. They'd taught me how to fulfill my destiny as a demon slayer. They'd also saved my butt more than once. In return, I'd hoped I could calm them down a little. I'd been a preschool teacher in my former life. I'd made my peace with chaos.
This was a whole new brand of it. And somewhere along the way, they'd gotten me into wearing leather pants. And bustiers.
I wasn't quite sure how that happened.
In any case, we didn't need to be fighting about beer cans. Or dirty undies. I got that riding Georgia's winding back roads could make a person spit dust, but, "No unpacking. We're only stopping for
dinner."
Frieda snorted. "Damn, I hope you get more than that."
"That's rude," I told her, ignoring Ant Eaters low chuckle. Although, frankly, I'd been hoping the same thing.
A year ago, on this very night, I'd married the mostly sweet and always sexy Dimitri Kallinikos. We'd said our 'I do's' at a gorgeous estate on the coast. Of course, the Earl of Hell crashed the wedding, but you know, these things happen.
This year, we found ourselves toning it down a little.
Okay, a lot.
As in right now, we were standing in a field off Route 9. We hadn't seen anyone for miles.
It was me, my sexy-as-sin husband and about thirty biker witches, who were busy tossing back beers, making campfires, and setting up dart boards against some pine trees by the creek.
I turned to Dimitri. "You want to help me with this one?"
But he'd retreated several steps and spoke urgently on his phone, tracking my present no doubt.
We were headed out of New Orleans after defeating a necromancer who'd had a hard time letting the dead stay that way. We'd earned a break. And when we saw a neat looking old restaurant, we stopped. Never mind that it didn't open for another hour. Or that chains blocked the driveway. No doubt they did that to keep out trespassers. It was no problem to park the biker witches in the woods next door.
The restaurant looked like it had been some kind of plantation house before. I loved the white columns out front, the long winding drive, the brick and iron entrance gates, dripping with lush green vines.
It was perfect for what I had in mind: a date night with my husband. Alone.
Frieda followed my gaze, which had pretty much moved to Dimitri's ass. "You think he got you some sexy lingerie?" she asked.
Little did she know I was already wearing a hot red number I'd picked up in Baton Rouge.
Ant Eater barked out a laugh. "He's got to do something to make up for the dinner." She nudged me. "A hoity-toity place like that is going to serve boring steak and chicken. They won't even have squirrel. Do you know how easy it is to hunt squirrel around here? Your grandma's already caught a half a dozen."