The Last of the Demon Slayers

by Angie Fox

  I didn’t know much about supernatural soot, but I’d seen it come back to life in a jar. Why not on a carpet?

  That was it. Wrestling with the covers, I scrambled out of bed. I turned on the light and stared at the charred Aztec carpet. I was tempted to toss it into the hall, or even out the window. If we’d been staying in a regular hotel, I would have.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I would have taken it to the dry cleaners. But that was beside the point.

  There was nothing I could do in an enchanted hotel. It was hard to know what gave power to these kinds of places or what would upset it. We had enough trouble.

  I needed to get some sleep. If it was going to come back to life, it would have by now.

  Right?

  I sat with my back to the headboard, a hand on my switch stars, as the snake-like creature tap-tap-tapped its stubby end against the top of the jar.

  The glass jar rattled on top of the dresser.

  “I’m not letting you out, you know.”

  He responded with a tap-tap-a-tap.

  “You’re like a woodpecker.”

  Maybe I should call him Woody.

  No. I would not name it.

  I wouldn’t even think about it – or my dad, or what it meant to be a half-angel or what could happen if we didn’t make it to California in time.

  And so I waited.

  I supposed it was a positive sign that I couldn’t just ignore my zombie friend, or skewer a smoky imp and then go right to sleep with potentially enchanted ashes on the rug. If I wasn’t on edge, I wouldn’t be good at my job. I just wished demon slaying powers came with a little peace – or at least a vacation. Maybe even a date.

  It wasn’t happening tonight.

  Relief swamped me when my watch alarm beeped at 1:30 a.m. By that time, I was groggy and stiff. I sat up and planted my feet on the floor. What little rest I’d gotten was more of a tease than a refresher.

  Sometimes it’s better not to sleep at all. I’d just have to let my fear of the unknown keep me alert.

  After what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, it wouldn’t be hard.

  “What do you think?” I asked my undead buddy, wincing as I turned on the light. “You want to go on guard duty?”

  I wasn’t leaving it alone.

  Letting my eyes adjust, I ran my toes along the floor, searching for my boots. They’d been the only thing I felt comfortable removing.

  I pulled them on, checked my switch stars and one yawn later, was ready to go.

  “Come on,” I said, stuffing the jar into a holder on the side of my utility belt. I was going to clank like a biker witch. And I really shouldn’t be talking to a piece of zombie rope. Call it a habit. I missed my dog.

  Pirate was still there for me, of course. He always would be. Yet over the last year, he’d also become a part of the Red Skulls. He was the coven’s dog too. It made me grateful and a touch sad.

  At least he hadn’t been with me when I arrived at my room tonight. I paused over the charred remains of the Aztec rug. Pirate was always the first one in the door. Even if he had to wait for me to turn the lock, he’d squeeze past as soon as it cracked an inch.

  He would have run straight into my attacker.

  I shuddered, locking my room behind me. I should have listened to my instincts tonight. I’d known something was wrong. That churning in my stomach, that heaviness in the air, it told me I was in deep trouble.

  I’d felt it before we’d walked out to see the banshee too.

  Hold on a minute.

  My mentor told me I needed to get out of my own way and let my abilities surface. I had more power than I could imagine, confined only by what my mind could see. I’d spent my life knowing my limits, making sure not to cross the line.

  What if I had the ability to sense attacks before they happened?

  My heart swelled. Finally, something that could help keep the people I loved safe.

  I strode through the darkened lobby with a new purpose. Maybe I really could change things. I at least had to try.

  The heavy front door squeaked as I opened it. Dimitri stood where I’d left him on the ruins of the building across the street. The bright moon outlined his form—and that of another.

  I stiffened. He was arguing with a man. Both were obviously agitated and equally large. The stranger gestured wildly, making some kind of a threat.

  My feet hardly touched the stairs. “Dimitri!”

  Both of them turned.

  “Lizzie,” he said, not at all welcoming as he stepped away from the stranger.

  I hurried across the dirt road.

  The man watched me with glowing yellow eyes. He wasn’t human.

  Then again, I’d stopped expecting it.

  “What’s going on here? You have a problem?” I asked, ready to draw weapons. Dimitri’s adversary faced me. Oh my word. He was stark naked. He didn’t even seem to care. A long collar of red jewels set in gold hung low on his muscled chest.

  He turned back to Dimitri. “Think about the stakes,” he said, with a heavy Greek accent that punched every word.

  My griffin glared at him and I realized that I wasn’t helping. I was interrupting.

  The other man practically snarled, his bare shoulders quivering with tension. A tattoo of a gold sword wrapped in fire wound up his neck and disappeared underneath his shaggy black hair. “My terms are non-negotiable,” he said, low and menacing. “You know it is the only way.”

  He turned his back on both of us, bent his head and shifted.

  Feathers cascaded down his back, catching in the moonlight, shining eerie shades of gold and red. Claws erupted out of his hands and feet, and thick lion’s fur raced up his arms. Bones snapped and reformed as his body expanded. An immense set of wings unfolded from his back.

  I’d seen griffins shift before – from men and women into creatures with the bodies of lions and the heads and wings of eagles. It was a powerful, awesome sight to watch these beasts emerge.

  The stranger took off on a massive set of wings. He flew east, toward the coast, calling out like a giant predator.

  “Damned fire griffins,” Dimitri muttered.

  “Who was he? What did he want?” I asked, realizing I’d been holding my breath.

  “He’s a pain in my ass.” Dimitri clenched his jaw as he watched the griffin fade into the night. “You’re early.”

  Ha. “You’re surprised?”

  He checked his watch. “I shouldn’t be.”

  It was a half hour before I was set to relieve him, which was early even by my standards. I usually arrived only twenty minutes before schedule.

  “Look, you don’t have to give me details if you don’t want, but I really would like to know who just flew away.”

  It was important to know who was venturing in and out of camp, even if I didn’t want to be reminded of Dimitri’s obligations to the griffins.

  I touched his arm. Warm muscle flexed under my fingers. “I know you’ve had to make compromises.”

  “Rest assured,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, “it’s not a sacrifice.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second.

  Of course I liked to think I was worth a few risks. What Dimitri and I had was amazing – and rare. But I wasn’t naïve enough to think love conquered all.

  It didn’t change the fact that Dimitri was needed in Greece. He’d spend most of his life trying to ensure his family’s health and stability. He’d saved his clan, but he’d barely reached out to the griffin community before Grandma and the Red Skulls had grown restless. We’d stayed on Santorini a scant four months before we’d returned to the States.

  He’d have to return home eventually.

  Dimitri had work to do. He loved his home and his sisters. One of these days, I was going to be brave enough to let him leave and fulfill his own destiny.

  We stood side-by-side, watching the moon. “Any sign of banshees?” I asked, moving on to a more pleasant topic, or at least one
that was not so explosive.

  We at least had clear answers on evil creatures. You saw them. You killed them. End of story.

  “Nothing yet,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and drawing me closer.

  I reached up and kissed him, for comfort really. I loved the feel of his chest and the rub of his leather coat on my skin. I eased into the jacket, careful for his injured side, and savored his warmth.

  I’d take this man for as long as I could have him.

  He deepened the kiss. Hallelujah. Heat shot straight to my toes – and other parts - before I was able to gather my wits and pull away. The stubble on his chin scratched my cheek.

  I caught myself before I leaned in for more. “I’ll meet you after guard duty,” I whispered.

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep now.” His voice sounded rough.

  He cleared his throat. “I did some investigating while I was out here. We’re standing over the ruins of a church. There isn’t much left, but I’m assuming it’s blessed ground. It should be easier to defend if anything comes calling.”

  My opinion of Sid clicked up a few notches.

  “The hotel backs up to a cliff, plus your Grandma had enough leftover ingredients to ward it pretty well. Flappy is trying to contribute, or maybe he just likes the smell of turtle knees and swamp mud. Either way, he’s perched out there on the edge of the canyon. I’ve been basing myself here, and then doing a full lap every few minutes.”

  “Okay,” I said, scanning the area. The plains surrounding our location would help me spot anything before it arrived. Unless it came out of thin air – or a wall of flame – but I had to think I’d feel it first. I’d pay special attention to my instincts tonight.

  “One more thing,” Dimitri said.

  “Yes?” I tried to ignore the thump of the glass jar against my leg. The zombie rope was getting restless.

  “I love you.”

  Did my boyfriend know how to give a briefing or what?

  He gave me a lingering kiss before heading back inside. Mmm…that would keep me warm.

  The night was chilly and clear. After watching Dimitri walk back to the hotel – What can I say? The man could certainly fill out a pair of blue jeans. - I gave my dad’s gift a place of honor on a broken out window ledge.

  I had to give Sid credit. He’d not only gotten a coven of biker witches halfway across the country in a day, he’d also found a relatively secure place to spend the night. I’d make sure it stayed that way.

  My belly quivered. It wasn’t quite into threat mode. In fact, my stomach reminded me quite heartily that I probably should not have given my Pop-Tarts to Pirate. Yet I could tell something in the night air had shifted since I came outside.

  Unhitching a switch star, I decided to circle the hotel and investigate.

  Halfway around, just as Dimitri had predicted, I found an immense dragon. Flappy sat watch over the canyon like a great sphinx. His mottled white scales looked gray in the moonlight.

  He whipped his massive head and his black button eyes lit up when he saw me. “Rrr-yow!” He huffed out a billow of smoke.

  “Hiya, Flap.”

  Rocks crunched under his scales as he rolled onto his back and arched his tummy.

  “This isn’t a social visit,” I said, reaching up to scratch him across the leathery plates of his stomach. “You see anything strange out here?”

  He lolled his head back and began kicking his left rear leg. “Urfle.”

  “Yeah. You like that.”

  “Grrr…” Smoke trailed from one nostril.

  “You gonna eat some banshees if they come calling?”

  “Grrr…”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” instead of ‘please keep petting me and I’ll agree to anything you say.’”

  Flappy was shameless when it came to tummy rubs, same as another four-legged creature I knew.

  I just hoped the dragon could take care of himself. “Keep an eye out.” The air had grown heavier in the few minutes I’d stood with Flappy. I could sense the storm moving in.

  “You see something, you come get me.” I strolled up to his head and gave him a scratch behind the ears, just to see. Wouldn’t you know it? Tiny feathers prickled against my fingers. “Don’t be a hero.”

  I’d already been attacked once this evening. And my enemies tended to be persistent.

  The dragon sat up and shook the dirt out of his wings as he watched me walk away.

  I was glad he didn’t try to follow. I needed an extra set of eyes at the back.

  A smoky, burning presence weaved its way around the front of the hotel. Blackness shrouded the road and the desert beyond. My insides tightened.

  “Dad?” I stepped into the darkness. It smelled of rot and death. “Dad, are you out there?”

  I didn’t dare move farther forward or go back. I paced at the edge of the sinister cloud, listening to the wind swirling over dried grass, the occasional call of coyotes.

  My boots crunched against the sandy soil as wisps of black, darker than night, curled around my ankles. Something was out there.

  Whatever it was, I knew without a doubt it wanted me.

  The ground was rougher than it looked. Crab grass sprouted in tufts. Every few feet, a hidden dip threatened to trip me. Stiff grass and nettles brushed my ankles.

  The black silence crawled up my spine and settled behind my shoulders.

  “Show yourself,” I called out into the night.

  Let’s do this.

  A wave of banshees screeched straight for my head. “Flappy!” I screamed as I hit one with a switch star. It flew backward as another banshee knocked me to the ground. Breath whooshed out of me as I hit hard sand and dirt. Razor sharp jaws thrashed, acidic spittle rained down as I took out the one on top of me, my switch star propelling it back into at least two more.

  I scrambled to my feet and saw that Flappy had one in his jaws like a chew toy. The creature shrieked as the dragon bit it in half. I knocked out the last two with switch stars to the head while they tried to scramble away from Flappy, who’d chomped another one.

  He tossed the creature out into the night. “Rrr-yee!” Flappy called, triumphant.

  Biker witches poured out of the hotel, Grandma in the lead. I could tell it was her by her lavender housecoat, flapping behind her as she ran.

  “Now they come,” I said, out of breath, turning a circle to make sure we didn’t miss any bad ass creatures of the night.

  One of my pant legs sizzled with toxic banshee spit. Just when I was about to try and find a rock to scrape it with, Flappy licked it off.

  “Thanks,” I said slowly, waiting to see if I had to take care of a sick dragon.

  Flappy panted, his breath hot and wet against my shoulder as he watched me.

  “Dimitri was right. You are a fighter.” I reached up to pet the dragon behind an ear, flicking my wrist to avoid a glowing red moth that wanted to land there.

  Fairy moth?

  “Shoo,” I brushed it off my shoulder and cringed as it landed on my neck.

  It chomped down. Hard. “Ow!”

  I grabbed it. That’s when, to my horror, I saw it was missing half a wing. Its entire body was rumpled, as if it had been smashed and its eyes were milky white.

  It was a zombie bug.

  Sweet Mary.

  It zipped away as I went for a switch star. Jagged teeth sprang from a bulbous, larvae-like body. It reached for me with countless scarlet tentacles.

  I tried to dodge sideways, but it crashed down on my leg. Before I could say demon-insect-from-hell, it bit a hole in my pants and sunk its teeth into my thigh.

  “Ow!” I recoiled as it dug its fangs into my flesh. Pain seized me as it burrowed its head into my skin.

  In a panic, I pulled at the creature’s fat body as it sank, fraction by fraction into my flesh. I could feel it biting, wriggling inside of me.

  My mind went foggy and I had an insane desire to stand up and run – to where, I had no
idea.

  I screamed like a banshee, or so I was told.

  The biker witches propped me up. My mind was numb, shocked as I tried to pull the creature away from me, watching it move under my skin.

  “Kill it!” Grandma hollered.

  Flashlights blinded me.

  “No,” Dimitri ordered. “Put it to sleep.”

  Glass broke over my leg and a cold spell oozed down my pants. My entire leg went dead.

  “I’ve got you, Lizzie,” Dimitri said, his words clipped and crisp. I closed my eyes and focused on his voice. “Slowly. We want to get it all.”

  I squeezed my eyes tighter. My head pounded. I was burning from the inside out.

  Slowly, Dimitri pulled the hot agony out of my body through the hole in my leg. It felt like he was taking part of me with it. Sweating, I ventured a look. My thigh was laid open and bloody as Dimitri worked the fat pulp of the creature out by the neck.

  I leaned my head back against Grandma. “Oh, ick.”

  Dimitri grunted and plunked something into a jar. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  A few minutes later, I hunkered in one of the wing-backed chairs by the window with my leg propped up on the opposite chair. My brain was starting to clear, the muddiness replaced by a throbbing ache at the base of my skull.

  I looked around to Grandma, Dimitri and about a dozen or so biker witches.

  “How’s your leg?” Dimitri asked, inspecting the bandage.

  “The feeling is starting to come back,” I said, the greatest understatement of the year. My entire leg burned from the knee up. It was like coming off a giant dose of Novocaine.

  The insect snarled inside a jar on the side table. The zombie rope had disintegrated to ash along the bottom, no doubt trying to hide. “Any theories on what this is?” I asked.

  “It’s a pressure bug,” Grandma said. “I’d never seen one, but I’ve read about them. They try to get under your skin. Literally. Then they hijack your free will.”

  No kidding.

  “What is Dad caught up in? This was worse than the banshees.” And here I thought a mini-horde of acid spitting creatures was my problem.

  Ant Eater held up the jar, watching the bug slam against the glass. “No angel, fallen or otherwise would have access to something like this.” She gave me a stern look. “It has demon written all over it.”