Angie Fox -The Accidental Demon Slayer

by The Accidental Demon Slayer (lit)

  "Yeah," I said, enjoying the moment.

  Grandma said it herself. The last slayer had the power to lock Vald away. I had the power to destroy him.

  "Vald wants you," Ant Eater said.

  I knew it.

  "If he finds you before you're ready," she said, "he could kill you. Or worse."

  "Thanks for the pep talk."

  "Candy ass."

  "Road bitch."

  She took a deep breath, then blew it out, watching the bobbing lights in and around the far trailers as the Red Skulls prepared to flee. "I'd slit my wrists if any­thing happened to the coven."

  "Go."

  She shoved herself away from the rusting hippie van. Before she could get far, I reached out and snapped her bra. She didn't turn around, but I heard her chuck­ling as she jogged out into the night.

  Fang and about a dozen werewolves led me down a nar­row path into the woods. Dozens of flashlights bounced off the darkened trees. I didn't miss the two large bodyguards who slipped behind me, cutting off any hope of escape. I kept my focus on the trail.

  Show no fear.

  It would have been nice to have some warning, es­pecially since Dimitri knew about JR. Then again, what could I have done?

  Gee, Lizzie. I hope you get this demon slayer thing down soon because my friend JR is possessed and his dad, the alpha wolf, is going to kill you if you don't fix it. Oh, and Rex might kill you anyway. If he doesn't sell you out to Vald, the fifth-level demon, instead.

  And where was Dimitri? With JR, I hoped. We'd been walking for about a half hour, deeper and deeper into the woods. I knew we were getting close. I could touch the fear sizzling in the air like an angry mob clamoring for release. I chewed at my lip, every nerve on high alert. It felt like we were walking into an ambush.

  The path opened up on an isolated cemetery. These were old graves, or at least they'd seen better days. Mausoleums scattered across the wide open ground, topped with crosses, angels and crescent moons. Many of the wolves bowed their heads as they passed through the iron gates.

  Rex did not.

  A stream must have run nearby. I could smell damp­ness. The crickets and other creatures of the night seemed to have abandoned this place. The air felt heavy and foreboding.

  I didn't like it one bit.

  A hollow pounding tore through the night, like a cannon firing on sheet metal. I swallowed my fear and jogged past a series of low graves, toward the source of the noise. Past an altar to the full moon, I saw it—a shadow deep in the cemetery.

  On high alert, I traveled around a cluster of silo-shaped mausoleums beyond the altar. These graves held the remains of several alphas and their families. Crowned half moons carved in stone topped each tomb. I ran my fingers along the inscription, common to each round mausoleum. Never backed into a corner. Glad they didn't have that problem. I sure did.

  At least a dozen werewolves massed behind me. As I came closer to the source of the noise, I could see a dented horse trailer chained to a thick tree. It shook on its hinges like the Tasmanian Devil himself whirled around inside.

  Now what was I supposed to do with that?

  A hairy, clawed hand tore at the tiny window at the top. A snout followed—pulsing as it sucked air.

  I turned to a scowling werewolf behind me. "Don't tell me that's—"

  We heard a high-pitched whir, like eighty blenders grinding ice.

  The ground shook. Dimitri shot out from behind the trailer, waving his hands as he made a mad dash for us. "Back! Back! Back!" He grabbed me and we tumbled behind the closest alpha tomb.

  Red-hot air shot past us and the sickening smell of sulfur assaulted my nose. I was smushed between Dimitri's warm body and a slightly wet patch of grass, but frankly, I didn't care about the cold seeping through my khakis. His weight on top of me, though slightly suffo­cating, was at the same time solidly comforting. He didn't know how glad I was to see him. I clutched him tight, closed my eyes and focused on his deep, heavy breaths and clean scent. It felt good to have an ally.

  Before I knew it, Dimitri stood. He reached a hand down to help me to my feet as he squinted against the dust in the air. Every single werewolf, in front of us and behind, lay scattered in the grass.

  'They're stunned." Dimitri blew out a breath. "I hope. Anyhow, we have to focus on JR. It'll take him a few minutes to build up his strength again."

  We made a beeline for the trailer. His fingers danced over the locks as he yanked them open, one by one.

  Um. Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea.

  Dimitri tilted his head back at the crippled wolves. "Same thing happened to me when we found JR at the Red Skull. One second I had him cornered in the kitchen, and the next I was flat on my back with my friend ready to rip my head off."

  I wished I'd been further along in my training that morning so I could have gone back with him. I hated to think what he'd risked for his friend. "Is there any­thing left of JR in there?"

  "Right now? I don't know." He glanced at me. "I like to think something held him back before Scarlet threw her paralyzing spell." He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memory. "It took four jars to pull him down. Even then, we hardly got the silver chains on him before he went crazy."

  That might have been the last time I saw Dimitri alive. "Sorry I chased you across the parking lot."

  "I'm not." The corner of his mouth almost twisted into a grin. "All things considered, that was the best part of my day." He yanked open the last lock. "You ready to see this?"

  Ready as I'd ever be. Trust yourself, Lizzie.

  Dimitri threw open the door. JR lurched for me like a feral animal. The man was built like a linebacker. He'd regained his human form, but there was no hu­manity left in his red eyes. JR's midnight black hair shone with sweat as he yanked against his chains, his meaty hands and feet, his wide chest bloody from the struggle. It didn't even seem like he felt the pain. What would we do if he changed back into a wolf? Would the chains hold him?

  I felt the familiar urge to run like hell. Call it self-preservation.

  Sacrifice yourself.

  I soooo hated that last demon slayer Truth.

  JR panted like he'd just eaten an entire village. Ev­ery time he exhaled, a thousand tiny needles pricked my skin. In his chest, I could feel them swirling. Doz­ens upon dozens. I couldn't get my head around how many black souls churned inside him. They were so angry. They needed a place to be; they missed their bodies. And they wanted him, bad.

  "Lizzie?" Dimitri touched my shoulder.

  "I don't know what to do," I whispered.

  When I'd faced Xerxes in my bathroom, I had no choice but to fight him. It was self-defense, pure and simple. But now, I could feel JR slipping away. He shouldn't have lasted this long. Dimitri's friend was a fighter. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know if what I was about to do would save him or kill him.

  Sacrifice yourself.

  "Down, boy," I said, easing myself into the trailer. His chains rattled as he whipped his head from side to side—fighting to control his raging body. "Work with me, JR."

  I reached out to touch his heaving chest and his hands flew to my wrists, trapping them. He could snap my bones without thinking. "Easy," I told him, feeling anything but. "Easy," I repeated. I inched his hands and mine toward his chest. "See, JR? We can do this."

  As long as you don't eat me.

  The moment my hand touched the hot, flushed skin over JR's heart, I felt a jolt, like I'd wrapped my hand around a live wire. His hands flew back, freeing my wrists. Look to the outside. I let the hum of his body wash over me as I inched my fingernails into his chest. The skin crumpled back like wet newspapers and I could smell his coppery blood. I dug farther, pushing past muscle. I dug through bone. The cracking of his ribs sounded like a batch of popcorn on the stove.

  At last, my fingers whispered over his beating heart.

  Please, don't let me hurt him.

  I stared down at my wrist, embedded in his chest.


  Please don't let me hurt him worse.

  I could tear his heart out of his chest like an Aztec nightmare. It would be over before any of us could stop it. My fingers slipped over the pulsing muscle.

  JR stared at me, eyes as wide as the full moon. I caught a glimmer of recognition.

  Help me.

  "Oh God, JR. I'm trying."

  He groaned in pain as tiny knots bubbled in his heart. They felt like marbles. I coaxed the largest one to the surface and pulled it free. It almost slipped from my hand. "Shit!"

  I almost lost it. And if I couldn't even keep hold of One ... I fought back a wave of panic. Sacrifice yourself. I took a deep breath, opened my mind, forced myself to relax and release whatever power I had. The thing wobbled in my palm.

  Holy Hades. It sucked me down. As if in a dream, I watched a pretty brunette swimming in a lake at sun­set. No. Not swimming—drowning. Do something! I clutched the edge of the boat.

  I didn't push her. She fell!

  But we didn't do anything to save her. Save her! She choked on the water, her eyes pleading.

  No! She's a whore. Let her get what's coming to her. I loved her! Can't anyone understand that? I loved her. But I won't have my children growing up with a slut for a mother. She deserves to die.

  It was in the past, a memory of the black soul I held in my hand. I felt its agony and its pleasure as the woman fought the water, gasped for her life. We ached and we laughed, as we watched the woman slip under the waves.

  Holy moley. I gripped the black soul in my palm. There were more. I heard their faint screams, watched them bubble in JR's heart. I didn't know how either of us was going to survive this one.

  "Heaven help us, JR."

  I inched my other hand inside his chest—past flesh, muscle, ribs. Slowly, deliberately, I eased the lumps up from his heart and plucked them like weeds. Every one I touched wanted to penetrate me. Wanted me.

  They deserved to die.

  I was following orders.

  No one will ever know.

  They screamed for release.

  I gripped them hard as they surged through me.

  "Lizzie!" Dimitri's voice came from another universe.

  Swallowing, I tried to answer. I felt like I was moving through water as I pulled my hands from JR's body.

  JR panted hard, his eyes unfocused. There should have been enough blood on the floor to fill a bathtub, but when I pulled free, the wound closed as if it had never been there.

  My mind swam. They'd left him. They were mine now. And I wanted them.

  "Let them go," Dimitri was saying.

  My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

  "Lizzie!" he demanded.

  I was weak. All my life I'd been weak. I'd been a sucker, always doing what people expected. Good Lizzie. Perfect Lizzie. Now, with these souls at my command, I felt powerful. And I didn't need Dimitri or anybody else telling me what to do.

  "Back off." I shoved Dimitri as hard as I could. He crashed against the wall of the trailer. Good.

  I had to get the souls inside me. I brought them to my chest, willing them. Please. I felt their power.

  "Damn it, Lizzie!" Dimitri yanked my hands from my chest.

  He was turning into a real pain in the ass. I won­dered how hard it would be to kill him. He pulled me against him and the souls surged.

  Another body!

  He's mine! Mine!

  Get away!

  I felt myself sway. The negativity, the greed—it wasn't me. This wasn't me! I fought for control. I'd opened myself too far. I started slamming the doors in my mind as Dimitri's power poured into me. I didn't care what he was doing or how he was doing it.

  Dimitri's hands warmed mine and through the clamor of the black souls, I felt... peace. I remem­bered flying. Flying? Not in an airplane, but like I had wings. High above cornfields and cotton, soaring with the wind in my face. Happy. I saw a family with twin girls. Dimitri's sisters. I didn't know how I knew, I just did. They laughed together, their noses almost touch­ing. I felt the love. It reminded me of how I always hoped my real family would be, if I ever found them.

  Pirate, think of Pirate. He was my family—Grandma too. I couldn't lose her—or myself. Not now.

  Dimitri gripped my hands tighter. Once again, I was flying. A mix of feelings slammed into me. I felt his red-hot desire, his churning doubt. And deception? I couldn't go there. Not now.

  I took those feelings and swallowed them deep down inside. Then together, we pushed them up, up, as I opened my palms and let the souls rise up like fireflies, through the ceiling of the rusty trailer and out into the universe.

  The sudden emptiness overwhelmed me. Worse, I knew what had almost happened. Dimitri pulled me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms as far as they would go around his broad back. I clung to him for a few long moments, terrified of what I'd come close to becoming. Those black souls wanted me, and I wanted to go with them. I'd learned how to open myself, to sacrifice myself, but I knew nothing about limits. It scared me to think about how good it felt to be with them. I felt powerful, alive.

  What had JR felt? The werewolf's breathing had steadied, but he was still horribly pale.

  Dimitri checked on him while I leaned my back against the wall of the trailer and fought the urge to close my eyes. The black souls had exhausted me. No wonder JR could barely move. He'd been possessed for days. I'd held the souls for minutes and I wanted to sleep for a year.

  Just then my mind pricked. I felt a strange stirring outside. When I peered out of the trailer, an army of ghosts swirled past the tombs. People, werewolves, and—holy smokes—creatures I didn't even know the names for. "I see—"

  What did I see?

  Dimitri moved behind me. "They're called mne­monics," he said against my ear.

  "Can you see them?"

  "Sometimes," he said, simply. "Your experience with death opened you to new worlds."

  They glided through the cemetery, unaware of each other, or of us.

  Dimitri's voice ground near my ear, flooding my body with warmth. "Mnemonics are memories, noth­ing more. Their souls have moved on."

  I leaned back against him and wrapped his arms around me. He felt solid. Good. I didn't know what I would have done without him tonight, or any other night for that matter. He caught his breath as I nuzzled against him.

  "Okay, coach," I said, turning toward him, "how do you know so much?"

  I about melted at the intensity in his dark eyes.

  "I've spent my life looking for a slayer. You. Then I met you and—" He lowered his lips to mine and I sank into his kiss.

  What started out gentle turned into a heady, powerful rush of pleasure as his mouth ravaged mine. Sweet switch stars. I needed this. I needed him. His hands moved up my sides, caressed the undersides of my breasts, and I nearly combusted.

  This is what it felt like to be alive.

  My whole body tightened. The man was darned lucky we were smack-dab in the middle of a werewolf cemetery or I might have lost all control. Then again, something told me he wouldn't mind.

  I pulled back and he nuzzled at my neck, sending a whole new wave of sensations barreling through me. "You do have a way of welcoming a girl back from the almost-dead."

  "Promise you'll never do that again," he said against my collarbone.

  I kissed him on the nose, trying to hide my worry. "Promise." I hoped. I still didn't know how I'd lost control of the black souls. Dimitri, through his sheer goodness, had pulled me back. I held on to him, savor­ing his warmth. "Who were the girls I saw in your memories?"

  "My twin sisters." He lifted his head, grief written all over his face. 'Taken by Vald. He wiped out my entire family."

  I couldn't imagine his pain. "I'm so sorry," I said, knowing words could never be enough.

  Dimitri reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, velvet bag. He tipped it and slid an intricately woven hairpin into his palm. At its tip, a gold griffin snarled, its orange eyes flashi
ng in the moonlight. "This was my sister Diana's."

  My fingers hovered above the griffin.

  "Touch it," he said, his voice husky.

  "Does it hold any kind of power?" I asked, remem­bering his teardrop emerald.

  "For me." He turned it over in his hands. "Take it," he said, his fingers caressing as he wove it into my hair. "Diana would want you to have it."

  I touched the jewel in my hair.

  Smiling, I pulled him back to me. The kiss was warm, demanding, almost a promise. I could save what re­mained of my family, try to ease Dimitri's pain too. With his arms wrapped around me, at that moment, it seemed like there was nothing I couldn't do.

  A cold wind blasted us apart. Fang crashed down on us. He lashed at us with clawlike hands. His anguished roar tore through the trailer. With a start, I realized it wasn't Fang. It was his spirit. He hunkered briefly over his son. With a wail, he launched up through the roof of the trailer and into the night.

  I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. "Who killed Fang?" I asked, already knowing.

  Dimitri scrambled out of the trailer and I followed a breath behind. The werewolves sprawled over the grass. Save one.

  Rex stood over Fang's bloody body, knife in hand. "You did."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rex dropped the knife and drew his shotgun, the double barrel aimed at my chest. I hurled a switch star without even thinking about it. It fired through the air like a rocket and cleaved Rex's skull down the middle. The mur­derous werewolf didn't even know what hit him.

  The two halves of Rex's head smoked as his body fell to the ground. His blood pooled in dark circles on the grass. There wasn't much. The switch star had cau­terized the wounds, leaving his head neatly sliced.

  My stomach squinched. Yick. The smell of scorched flesh and hair made me want to gag. I rested my hands on my knees while I caught up with the adrenaline surging through me. I'd killed him.

  I had to kill him. He would have shot us. But how I'd done it—clean through the skull—was awful. I clutched the switch star in my right hand. It had boomeranged back to me, not a drop of blood on it.

  Dimitri took a deep breath, his gun cocked and ready. "We have to go."