The Last of the Demon Slayers

by Angie Fox

  In short, it was pretty safe to assume Flappy had been the runt of the litter, abandoned by a sleeker, sparkly clan. We had no clue which because as far as anyone knew, there were no white dragons.

  I’d rescued Flappy from the side of a cliff while he was still in the egg. At the time, I hadn’t planned on adopting a dragon. Of course plans change. I should know that by now.

  The dragon let out a juvenile skreeek as the Red Skulls began cranking up their bikes.

  “Oh yeah,” Pirate hollered, “you like to ride, now don’t you Flappy?”

  Teeth-rattling engines roared on all sides as I made sure Pirate was strapped in safe and made a final check on my helmet.

  My bike wobbled slightly as we revved out of the battered driveway and toward a series of side roads that would take us to Nether Wallup Way.

  Sid and Ant Eater led the group, followed by Dimitri, Pirate and me. Grandma took up the rear position, with Flappy above her. I snuck a glance past the line of bikers behind us to the hulking mess of Big Nose Kate’s.

  It still didn’t look like much from the outside. The witches warded it extra tight this time, careful not to leave any live spells behind. As the morning mists rose off the woods, I could feel the comforting whispers of the magic we’d left in our wake.

  Every single witch had chosen to come with us. It was a humbling show of support – one that I would never take for granted. I just hoped that sooner rather than later, the Red Skulls could return. They deserved a place to call home.

  Right now, it was probably better we were leaving. I doubted they wanted their home overrun by banshees. Just the thought of tangling with them again made my stomach clench. The fairy paths would protect us only for so long.

  We cruised up Service Road D until Sid called us to a halt on a dirt shoulder littered with rusty soda cans and holes. A wooden fence twined with barbed wire ran the length of the road, separating us from an empty farm field. The shorn stalks of last year’s crop huddled close to the ground as far as the eye could see.

  My front tire caught on an extra deep rut and I started skidding sideways. I caught myself – barely.

  Meanwhile Frieda had run her sidecar into a prickly bush. “Sorry, Bob!” She winced at her passenger.

  Bob put a leather clad shoulder to the worst of the brambles. “What’s the idea, Sid?”

  “A thousand apologies, mister prickly pants.” Sid lumbered off his bike. “Next time, I’ll make sure the fairies in these parts landscape the highway entrances. What else do they have to do? Maybe they’ll plant some petunias or lay out pillows for you guys.” He rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

  Sid planted both hands on a section of the fence. He spread his fingers, making sure he had a solid grip.

  “Nether Wallup Way,” he said, laying on the Jersey twang, “land of fairies. Path of fae.” He scowled with his entire round body, daring me to so much as crack a smile. “Release the latch upon this door. That we may wend forth evermore.”

  The fence cracked open to form a door. Green grass spilled out, inching out over barren rocks and dirt.

  “What?” Sid waved his arm. “Are you just going to stand there?”

  Ant Eater and I slid off our bikes and helped him pull the heavy gate back. Sunshine flooded out, warming my hands and face.

  Where there had been dead grass, a rich black road wound its way through a canopy of trees. Tiny purple flowers cropped up in the grass on either side of the path and around the low stone wall mounded on either side. The flat rocks – stacked as if laid by hand - formed intricate patterns. Ivy climbed the trunks and moss dripped from immense green conifers.

  The air smelled sweet, although not in a nature-type way but in a bakery way.

  Amazing.

  I’d had a fairy godfather once. When I first met him, I imagined him showing me hidden fairy places like this. He’d died before I could even get to know him. As strange as it sounded, I felt Uncle Phil here. Seeing this trail, this fairy magic, made me feel closer to him somehow.

  Too bad opening the path hadn’t affected Sid in the least. “Lookie here,” he said, “a demon slayer with nothing to talk about. You’d better get a move on. I can’t keep this thing open all day.”

  The witches grinned at each other as they revved their bikes and took off down the fairy trail. I cranked my motorcycle and joined them. As soon as my bike hit Nether Wallup Way, it picked up speed. Trees whizzed by. The road was so smooth it felt like glass under my tires.

  “Yyy-yes!” Pirate whooped.

  My dog had a need for speed.

  I tried to slow down, but it was no use. We zoomed straight for a slate stone fairy bridge. I detected a slight sizzle of energy as we passed up and over a deep, narrow creek.

  Riding a Harley is the nearest most of us get to flying, but in this case, I could feel my tires lift from the ground.

  My stomach dipped and I held on tighter.

  We made it through Tennessee and into Arkansas and Oklahoma. Now and again, we’d pass a minivan load of fairies, or fairies on ten-speed bikes. They flew past in a blur of color, light, and I brake for squirrels bumper stickers.

  You’d think someone could have mentioned fairy paths were faster than regular roads. Sometimes, I think they just liked to see me squirm.

  We passed a pair of fairies on rollerblades, headed the other way. No one blinked an eye at Flappy. And we didn’t even have to stop for gas.

  I couldn’t help but think of what fairy paths could do for the energy crisis. If only the fairies would be willing to come out of the closet.

  Maybe I’d have a talk with Sid when this was over.

  As evening neared, we stopped in Colfax, New Mexico, which blew my mind because we’d basically covered half of the United States in a day. One day. My route would have taken at least three times that long.

  Sid had us pull over in an abandoned heap of a town just north of Cimarron. It sat on a grassy plain with a spectacular view of red mountains in the distance. The sun was beginning to set, which meant the Red Skull’s magic would be the strongest if they wanted to set up wards around here.

  Then again, maybe they shouldn’t because, er, this place was a dump.

  Sid eased his bike to a stop outside the Colfax Hotel, a two-story wood structure with a second-floor balcony overhanging a wide porch.

  A plaque on the side of The Colfax said it had been built in 1872. I didn’t doubt that for a second. From the look of the place, it was being held up by fairy magic and good intentions.

  Half the white paint had chipped off and where it was missing, rotted gray wood lay exposed to the elements. The front bay window sported several broken panes of glass and the dented front door knob held on by a single rusty screw. A wooden half-circle sign on the roof read Hotel in faded block letters.

  Grandma and Dimitri eased their bikes onto the dirt patch that passed for a parking lot and we shut off our engines.

  “So this is it?” Grandma scowled, not taking off her helmet. The dust of the town swirled around us.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Dimitri said, easing one long leg over the seat of his bike.

  Of course, we’d all seen worse. We’d been to hell.

  Then again, this place probably had cockroaches the size of demons.

  “I told you to trust me,” Sid said, with no small amount of pride. “You wanted to make good time and we did. You want a place guaranteed to be free of people in case we get the banshees, here you go.”

  “Ohhh…” Pirate trembled in his harness, his tail thumping against my chest. “It looks like a ghost town!”

  “That’s because it is a ghost town,” Sid said. “Well, a fairy town. Intra Magical Matters Charter number Five-o-Three says we can take over if nobody else is using the place.”

  “I wonder if they have an ice cream parlor!” Pirate said, struggling against his carrier and making it quite clear he was a bit hazy on the details of a ghost town.

  Sid led us up the cr
umbling brick steps of the Colfax Hotel. He paused in front of the rough wood door, hunting in his pocket until he pulled out a handful of what looked like dirt.

  “Do you mind?” He glared at us.

  We stepped back and Sid stuffed a pinch of dirt into the rusty lock and muttered a low chant.

  “Cow's beestheens, nettles, tweenies and twine, ye be to open and be mine.” The door clicked open.

  “Let me down,” Pirate said, scrambling against his doggie carrier.

  “We could have just busted it,” Grandma said, first in the door.

  “Just a sec,” I said, reaching for the flashlight on my demon slayer utility belt.

  But there was no need. Gas lamps shed warm light over a turn-of-the-century lobby. Rich floral wallpaper in pinks and greens gave way to high plaster ceilings. Padded benches and intimate seating areas were clustered throughout the cozy room. A boxy piano in the back began to play Down By The Old Mill Stream.

  “Welcome home, girls,” Sid said, with no small amount of glee.

  “They could have better taste in music,” Grandma said, hands on her hips as she eyed the place, “but I’ll take this over Motel 6.”

  “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” Ant Eater said, pinching Sid on the bottom.

  I didn’t doubt it.

  “So this is normal,” I said to no one in particular.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I was content to open up an old biker bar. Now I’d carted my half-angel self to fairy town. I shuddered to think what tomorrow would bring.

  “I’ve heard of fairy hideaways,” Dimitri said, unclipping a grateful Pirate and tucking my dog under his arm. “I never thought I’d see one.”

  “This doesn’t feel like a hollow,” I said, running a boot over the polished wood floor.

  “That’s just a term.” Dimitri inspected the room, rubbing Pirate’s back as we took it in. “It’s more of a window to the past. Fairies can call up wooden structures if there is enough left.”

  “How much?”

  “Depends on the fairy.”

  I knew this place didn’t really exist, but darned if it didn’t look comfortable. And safe.

  My protective necklace hung warm and steady against my neck.

  Grandma had found a crystal bowl of peppermints and held it out to me.

  “No thanks,” I said.

  Who knew how old those were?

  She popped one in her mouth. “I think we put some miles between us and those banshees.”

  Grandma was right. I could feel the weight of the threat easing. Still, we were stopping and I didn’t think the ancient minions of evil would be kicking back for the evening.

  “Maybe we should keep going,” I said to Dimitri as we made our way past the lobby to a hallway in the back.

  “It’s not safe,” he said. “We can’t drive for two days straight, even on fairy paths. We need to be alert if something decides to jump us.” He glanced back at the witches rearranging the lobby. “Besides, the Red Skulls aren’t as young as they look.”

  Good point.

  He slipped his hand over mine and gave a tug. “Come on, angel.”

  I couldn’t help grinning at his comment and at the sight of his butt in blue jeans as we went to explore the back hallway. That man was temptation in the flesh.

  We counted a dozen rooms in the back, which should be enough if we doubled up. That way everyone was on the ground floor, bikes at the ready in case we needed to make a quick escape.

  There was no dining room, so we ate our MRE’s out on the front porch. I didn’t bother heating my beef ravioli. Pirate talked his way into my toaster pastry. I never understood why they put Pop-Tarts in with Italian food anyway. Pirate, the charmer, also managed to snag Dimitri’s peanut butter crackers and Sidecar Bob’s maple muffin top.

  “I’ll take first shift,” Dimitri said as we wound down for the night.

  “I have second.” I volunteered fast, before Grandma or Frieda tried to stay up. It’s not that I didn’t want them to help, but I’d feel better tonight if they left it up to me and Dimitri.

  Heaven knew we’d both slept soundly enough after our encounter the night before. I wanted to fan myself just thinking about what that man could do with his hands, among other things.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, Dimitri kissed me lightly on the nose. “Scram. I have work to do.”

  “Yes, sir, your manliness.”

  I left him to scout out a perimeter location while I walked back inside with the witches. He wouldn’t want me to hover.

  “Well, then I’m sleeping with Bob again,” Pirate announced, accepting yet another peanut butter cracker.

  I would have felt sorry for my dog if both of us didn’t have it so good.

  My cell phone rang as I watched Pirate retreat. “Electric Avenue” pulsed through the Wild West hotel. The biker witches groaned at my ring tone as I dug in the back of my utility belt.

  Hillary Brown. My mom.

  Well, the mom who had wanted me.

  My thumb clicked it over to voicemail.

  I wanted to answer her. I did.

  I hadn’t called Hillary since Greece, when I’d had to make up a story about traveling to find myself. I couldn’t tell her I was dating a griffin or hanging out with biker witches. I didn’t want to explain that yes, I was back in the States, but I had more important things to do than return to my old life in Atlanta.

  Still, she called every other Sunday.

  I watered your plants.

  I planted your bulbs.

  I took a look at that statement from your bill paying service, although I don’t know why you pay for cable when you never watch it.

  She was waiting for me to come back to a life that didn’t exist anymore and I really didn’t know how to tell her that while standing in a fairy hollow.

  I stuffed the phone back into my utility belt and eased down into a wing-backed chair close to the bay window. I could see Dimitri’s shadow as he inspected the remains of a building across the street. It was just the foundation, really. He looked fine and I didn’t sense any evil in this place.

  Yet something didn’t feel right.

  Let it go.

  We set up the guard so that we’d each take a four-hour shift. I checked my watch. It was not even ten. Dimitri would be on until 2:00 a.m. I’d take over until dawn.

  I was probably just being jumpy. Maybe it was fairy magic messing with my demon-slayer sense, but it felt as if I was waiting for something to go wrong.

  It began as a tingling in my stomach and spread until my whole body practically vibrated with it.

  I walked out to the porch and listened to the night. Cars zipped by in the distance, but other than that, silence.

  Dimitri stood with one foot on the ruined foundation across the way.

  “You okay?” I called to him, just to be sure.

  “Go to bed,” he chided.

  I braced a hand on the door frame. He probably assumed I was having a hard time going to sleep without him.

  He was right.

  Maybe I was suffering from a case of nerves. I walked back through the comfortable lobby of the hotel, looking both ways before I eased into the back hallway.

  It paid to be careful. I unhitched a switch star as I turned the key to room 113.

  “Scree!” Frigid air blasted out of the dark. Claws seized my shoulders.

  “Holy Hades!” I thrust my switch star up into leathery skin.

  Claws scrambled before the thing hit the floor with a dull thud.

  Heart racing, I pounded on the lights. A shadow of a creature curled on the floor. It resembled a snake with legs, only as seconds passed it seemed to be made of black smoke more than anything else.

  It had been solid. I’d felt it.

  It wound its neck back and smirked at me with glowing red eyes. “That wasn’t smart, Lizzie,” it cackled as it dissolved into thin air.

  I hit it with a switch star to the chest.

  “Too
late,” it crooned as my switch star buried itself into the floor, “too late.”

  I stood, shocked and sweating and shivering.

  It knew my name.

  And it was gone. I dug my switch star out of the floor, the pink blades still churning.

  It looked like some new kind of an imp. I’d never seen one that could speak before. At least, none had chosen to talk to me. The way it leered at me left me feeling very uncomfortable. It wanted to call me out, threaten me. With its dying breath, it wanted me to be very afraid.

  It had worked.

  A door opened down the hall to the right. “You okay?” Grandma called.

  “Yes,” I said, straightening. Holding my switch star against my left leg.

  Grandma narrowed her eyes at me.

  I shivered despite myself. “It was just a bug,” I assured her.

  “You and your bugs.” She shook her head, her gray hair tangling around her shoulders as she closed the door behind her.

  I turned back to the charred spot on the floor.

  Grandma might have been able to tell me more about this imp, but I doubted it. I was getting pretty good at spotting evil. She and the others needed their sleep. The last thing I wanted was a biker witch meeting about a creature I’d already eliminated.

  Besides, it hadn’t been after them. It had called me by name. This thing had waited for me alone. I just needed to find out why.

  Chapter Seven

  I tried to get a few hours sleep before it was my turn to stand watch, but it was no use. It’s hard to close your eyes when the rug smells like burnt minion.

  With the sigh of a true martyr, I stuffed a pillow under my lumpy demon-slayer utility belt and studied the outline of the iron chandelier hanging above my bed.

  Why was I even trying to take it easy?

  I blew out a breath. Because I needed to rest or I wouldn’t be good for anyone.

  Dimitri was standing guard. He wouldn’t let the boogeyman in. I should be able to close my eyes. Every time I did, the smell of bitter ashes grew from acrid to overpowering.