My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding ds-5

by Angie Fox

  “Dive in front of them,” I said, finishing his thought.

  He at least had the courtesy to look properly chastened. “I was betting they didn’t want me.”

  “That’s a big bet.” One that could have left me without a fiancé. “I’m glad it worked out.”

  He shook his head. “You and me both.”

  Someone wanted me bad.

  Ant Eater shook her head. “I’ll let your Grandma Gertie know.”

  “They were in the pink box with the doves.” I glanced at my mom. “Did you see who put that one in the pile?”

  Her eyes were wide as she shook her head, ‘no.’ I wasn’t surprised. The person who wanted me dead wasn’t stupid, just determined.

  Dimitri hefted the armor from me as the griffins gathered around it. Griffins were known for their loyalty, as well as their strong and ancient protective magic. I was incredibly grateful for both.

  Ophelia led the pack, clucking over the damaged armor. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I am so very glad you could use your wedding gift.”

  I supposed that was the ultimate goal.

  She ran a hand over the damaged bronze, careful not to touch the curses. “Do not worry, momo. We will fix this up so you can wear it on your wedding night.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not about to argue.

  Dimitri stumbled backward, and it took both Diana and Dyonne to keep him upright. Darn it. He was hurt worse than we’d thought. His shoulder was bloody and he looked pale. Ophelia rushed to him and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Those vile creatures did not waste their stingers on you, but it seems they robbed some of your energy. It’s best you rest.”

  Dimitri locked eyes with me.

  “I’m not going to do anything risky without you,” I said quickly.

  “Famous last words,” he answered, without a trace of humor. Okay, so he had too much experience dealing with me.

  “I know I need you,” I added. “At full strength.”

  I smoothed back his hair and went to give him a sweet kiss on the forehead. He dipped his head and countered with a blazing kiss that rocketed through me.

  It was exactly what I needed after the horror of the evening. All too soon, he broke away with a saucy grin. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Too late,” I muttered to myself, he walked up to his room, on his own power.

  This entire week had been a mistake. I never should have placed everyone I loved in one location. It was easy pickings for a demon. I didn’t know what I was thinking.

  That was the problem. I wasn’t thinking. Instead, I was trying to have a normal life, to pretend I wasn’t charged with killing the spawn of Satan. Now it had come back to bite me. I was the Demon Slayer of Dalea, whether I liked it or not. There were some luxuries I simply couldn’t afford anymore.

  My mom let out a gasp behind us, and we all turned. But it wasn’t another attack. She drew a silk dress mannequin upright and about cried when she saw what remained of the wedding dress she’d displayed—her dress. The skirt was ripped down the middle. It had burn marks from the battle. Glass from several spell jars had ripped holes through the delicate fabric.

  “It’s ruined,” she sobbed.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” I said. Even though I never would have worn that dress, I hadn’t wanted it to end like this.

  Mom nodded, wiping at her tears. “If this is the worst that happened…” she trailed off, unable to say anymore.

  I knew. We all did.

  Frieda stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the mess. “Now we really need to go into the Cave of Visions.”

  It appeared as if she’d been working hard on it. Her lemon yellow jeans were dirty at the knees and she wore her hair tied back in a scarf.

  “When will it be ready?” I asked.

  Frieda gave a desperate sigh. “Come on. I’ll show you,” she said.

  We headed out into the hall and back toward the kitchen. “Now mind you,” she said, “there’s no pet store within fifty miles, so I suggested we catch lizards.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to catch a lizard?”

  I didn’t even want to know.

  “How long of a walk do we have?” I asked, hoping it was a good distance.

  I should have specified that we be far, far from the evil center of the property. I hadn’t. I’d overlooked that part. Still, even if the witches didn’t know about the dark mark inside the house, I had to believe they’d feel the disturbance on some level and choose to avoid it.

  We stepped out onto the back porch, and Frieda led me around the side, toward several trellises of purple rose bushes.

  “Here we are!” She said, stopping at the entrance to an old root cellar that led directly into the basement.

  “Oh, frick.” I didn’t need to crack open my powers to know this felt wrong.

  Frieda’s face fell. “It feels dark, doesn’t it?” She glanced down at the hole. The weathered wooden doors had been thrown open, and we could see several witches down in the pit, weaving wards. Frieda shook her head. “I told Grandma. Ant Eater said it. Hell, I think we all said it at one point.” She trailed her hand over the quartz crystal choker at her neck. “Still, you know your Grandma has the final word.”

  As if she’d heard her name, Grandma began climbing the old wooden ladder out of the cellar. “Limit those wards,” she said to the witches still inside. “I don’t want you to interfere too much with what needs to come through.”

  “I’m all for some limits,” I said, especially after what had happened at the shower.

  The Red Skulls were usually more cautious.

  Grandma shook out her shoulders like a cage fighter before a match. “I can handle it.”

  Maybe she could, maybe she couldn’t. It didn’t matter. “I’m going down first,” I told her, daring her to argue.

  Grandma looked me up and down. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “She got caught in a curse attack,” Frieda answered.

  Grandma’s eyes narrowed, and I shot a glare at Frieda. “Thanks for ratting me out.”

  “Yeah, because you were going to hide that,” the blonde witch shot back. She must be stressed. It was rare for Frieda to lose her cool. “You know as well as I do that the Cave is dangerous,” she spoke to the group, while her gaze remained fixed on me. “You can’t go in rattled or injured.”

  “I’m fine.” I snapped. Because I wasn’t, not really. But I didn’t have a choice.

  The remaining witches climbed out of the hole while Grandma gave me the stink eye. “You think this is fucking easy?”

  “I know it’s not.” I’d been once before. It sucked. But it was what I had to do to get answers, and I was prepared to brave it.

  Grandma began running her hands through her long gray hair before, dropping them. “We don’t even have any animals.”

  It took me a moment to realize what she was saying, until Ant Eater walked up next to her and solemnly handed her a Ziploc bag containing three live crickets.

  “That’s it?” I asked. The biker witches usually used guppies. They were enchanted so that the demon would take the life of the fish as it reached for the soul of the person in the Cave of Visions. You had three guppies, and when they were dead, you’d better run like hell.

  Ant Eater didn’t look happy. “We should put this off.”

  “No,” Grandma said quickly. “It’s ready now.” She said the next part under her breath, but we all heard. “We might not have the magic to fire it up again.”

  Great. We had one shot, and it was already screwed up.

  Still, I’d moved ahead under worse circumstances. I wasn’t crazy about heading down there with bugs for protection, but if Grandma was going for it, I didn’t want her doing anything without me.

  The sun had begun to set over the ocean cliffs, leaving the rest of the world in a twilight haze. The witches began lighting candles while I rested my hand on the Maglite at my waist. I had more
going for me than I gave myself credit for. I had my weapons, my wits. A fair amount of desperation.

  The ladder leading up from the cellar sizzled with an unearthly blue current. A blaze of blue smoke trailed up into the night sky and—jumping Jesus on a pogo stick—pearly white snakes as long as my arm slithered from underneath the cellar doors. Large, flat heads thrust from both ends of the creatures as they hissed, spewing bursts of flame at each other and anyone else that wandered too close.

  Damn it. “You’re using cold magic again, aren’t you?” It was stronger, harder to control.

  Great at isolating demonic magic.

  “Let me guess. You’re the expert because you saw me do it once.” Grandma leaned in close, her face flushed. “I’m using everything I’ve got right now. This entire place gives me the creeps.”

  That was saying something.

  The urge to explore the cellar clawed at me, which was an awful sign. My powers were insanely attracted to things that wanted to eat me, possess me or chop me in half.

  “Get everybody assembled,” Grandma said, once the sun had dipped under the horizon.

  We still hadn’t decided who was heading up this little party. “I’m going in,” I said.

  She cursed under her breath.

  The witches formed a semi-circle around us. They moved with military precision, dozens of Red Skulls carrying blue and silver candles.

  Grandma handed me the bag of crickets as the circle closed behind us. I felt the energy build. Along with it, evil pricked over my skin.

  Dimitri was going to kill me for going down there, but it’s not like he could help me anyway. I had to do it alone.

  “Link hands,” Grandma ordered the witches. The power intensified. She stood between me and the entrance, as if she could shield me from what I’d find. “You know what to do, right?”

  “Yes.” Mostly. We both knew this wasn’t an exact science. The last time Grandma tried it, she ended up in the first layer of hell.

  “Trust the snakes,” she said, as we stepped over one. It hissed and singed my boot. “Watch the crickets.” A glow formed along the circle of witches surrounding us. I saw Creely, Ant Eater, Sidecar Bob. “Use the goat skull.”

  “Aunt Evie’s?” She was the previous slayer, and we sometimes used things of hers, objects that held another generation of strong magic.

  Grandma nodded. “It’ll help you focus your strength.”

  An eerie blue layer of smoke collected at the edge of the pit. I looked down into the darkness.

  Grandma stood next to me. “Light a candle. Focus on the demon and watch the crickets.”

  “Okay.” Piece of cake. I tucked the edge of the cricket bag under my belt and tried not to notice as the creatures struggled to escape. It was too late—for them and for me.

  Grandma watched me, stone faced. “If it grabs you, run. Try to get it off first. We don’t want it following you.” Practical until the end. She drew a necklace out of her shirt. Attached was a Ziploc with a twirling silver spell. “I’ve got the queen of anti-demonic spells here, but without any wards set up, it’s worse than tossing a pop tart at a pissed off lion.”

  “You won’t need it,” I said. I could handle it.

  I placed a foot on the top rung of the ladder and wished Dimitri was here. Times like this, I needed his strength, his protection and support more than anything. It would have been nice if I’d had my necklace to protect me as well. I clutched the ladder tighter and began my descent into the freezing cellar.

  Hell was cold. It was the absence of love and light. And I felt every bit of it as the pit swallowed me up. The air grew heavier. The cold, colder.

  My breath puffed out in front of me. The place smelled like raw dirt.

  Halfway down, I drew my Maglite out of my belt and shone it down onto the floor below. The skull had been placed a short distance, away, near a stone wall that formed the foundation of the house. The other three walls were made of packed Earth.

  I placed the candle in the center of the narrow space, with the crickets next to it. They leapt and struggled against the bag.

  Focus. If I panicked, I was done.

  I lowered myself onto the floor and sat cross-legged in front of the gnarly-looking goat skull and the red candle.

  Now or never. I struck a match and lit the wick. A bright blue flame shot up, dancing off the walls of the cellar. It felt like I was in a tomb. A trickle of sweat snaked down my back. The rest of me shivered.

  I’d said I could do this and I would.

  The Red Skulls murmured chants over me, their words mingling with the dancing flame of the candle.

  I purposely removed my hand from my switch stars, where it always rested when I was nervous. Instead, I focused on the three markers I’d found. I pictured the one deep in the old observatory, surrounded by faceless statues. I pictured the marker that had been carved out of the garden, the one that had swallowed me whole. And I thought about the marker carved into the black altar itself, the one that stood on the other side of this wall, hidden in the basement of the house.

  The back of my neck pricked and my breath came in starts. I pushed the air in and out of my lungs like it had gone liquid. My nerves thrummed and my body stiffened as an image formed in front of me.

  It was the ghost. She lay chained to the black altar, arching away from it as the dark mark churned under her like a saw blade. It caught her back, sucking her down. She screamed as her body changed from solid to ghostly. I watched as the dark mark devoured her whole.

  I shot to my feet, every instinct screaming for me to turn away, to run, to try and save her.

  I am the virgin sacrifice. Free me.

  “How?” I pleaded.

  Holy hell. The ghost’s soul was powering the markers. I had to free her. I had to end this.

  You are the final sacrifice.

  What? I turned away, the shock of it ripping me from the vision. No! “Wait. Hold up.” I didn’t understand.

  I turned back toward the flame, stumbled when I almost stepped on the bag of crickets. I shouldn’t have bothered. They were all dead.

  My time was up.

  Forget it. I needed to break through. I could not fail. But it didn’t make any sense. The ghost powered the portal, not me.

  Unless…

  She thrashed again against the power of the dark alter, her agony and death on a constant loop.

  My throat was dry, my voice hoarse, as I asked the most important question of all. “If I die, what happens?”

  The dark marks churned, black magic sizzled, a violent storm ready to unleash itself on everyone I loved.

  Then I saw Zatar, Earl of Hell.

  He had the scaled body of a lizard and the face of an angel. His features were striking, beautiful. He must have been a heart-stopper before his fall. His hair was long and golden and he wore the silver and white wings of an angel.

  “You—” I began, shocked. I’d locked Zatar away. There was no way he could touch me.

  Unless he did it through someone I loved.

  “Who did you take?” I demanded, ready to bargain, to force, to do anything I could to get answers.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. His voice was like music and the wind, haunting and beautiful. It was like nothing I’d heard before. I had to force myself to stand my ground. “I have you.”

  A blast of power knocked me off my feet.

  I hit him with a switch star, then another, then another. They barely slowed him down as he reached for me.

  Holy mother. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was in hell. For as long as I lived and breathed.

  Which at this rate…don’t think about it.

  There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  I dropped my switch stars and drew deep down inside myself. I needed more. I was half angel, a detail most people, including myself, overlooked. Angel power didn’t come with nifty weapons or a gang of biker witches, but it did come with something else.

  I let it bu
ild inside me, trusted it even as the Earl bore down on me, I focused every bit of light and goodness I had and blasted him backward, straight through the stone wall and back to hell where he’d come from.

  Shocked and shaking, I remained rooted in place as the air warmed around me. The candle crackled, and for the first time, I dared to look upward. The storm doors had been blasted completely off. Stars shone in the night sky.

  “Okay,” I said, knees still a little too wobbly to attempt a climb. Still, I knew what to do. It may be crazy, and it may get me killed, but at least I had a plan.

  Chapter Twenty

  I climbed out of the cellar and stalked past the startled witches.

  “What did you see?” Grandma demanded, grabbing my arm. I shook her off.

  “Zatar.” My worst nightmare. I hadn’t been able to beat him before. I’d thought it would be enough to lock him away in hell.

  Fat load of good that had done.

  Creely grabbed a spell jar, ready to attack. Only we didn’t have an enemy. Not in the flesh.

  “Lizzie—” she began.

  I didn’t hear the rest. I needed to focus. “I think I’m onto something,” I said. If what I had planned would even work…

  Frieda moved to block my path. I dodged her.

  I opened the door to the kitchen and let it slam behind me, knowing they’d follow. I didn’t have time to spell it out. I had to get the necklace with the grave dirt. Somehow, I had to free the ghost and disable the marks before the demon got his claws in me or anyone else.

  Now that I was on to him, he’d move fast. I didn’t know how much time we had.

  I stalked down the hall and up the stairs, my mind tumbling over itself. Looking back, there had been a reason why I’d felt compelled to grab the grave dirt. Sometimes, I just knew. Hadn’t the necklace clung to it? It had actively fought me when I’d tried to take my only connection to the ghost and dump it out over the ocean. It was still protecting me.

  If I’d been thinking that way, I would have realized something was up when Pirate hadn’t been able to see the dead bride. Pirate loved ghosts. He played with them. But we weren’t dealing with a soul who was free to strike up a game of Parcheesi. The woman was trapped, and Pirate had lacked the connection to the locket, and the grave dirt inside.