The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers ds-2

by Angie Fox

  He kept his eyes on the road, the lights of The Strip flicked over his face. Finally, he said, “Dimitri Kallinikos claims to be a griffin, noble no less. But he’s not.”

  “What?” I asked, not entirely understanding.

  Max shot a long look out of the corner of his eye, sizing me up. “Dimitri is not entirely griffin. He has some slayer in him. Of course, he denies it.”

  My body froze into a thick, heavy lump of dread right there in the passenger’s seat.

  Hadn’t I known there’d be consequences?

  I mashed my head back against the seat. I’d tried not to think about it since it had happened. Cripes, it had only been a week, but I couldn’t get the sight of Dimitri’s blood on my hands, or the gaping hole in his chest out of my mind. He fought so hard for me. I couldn’t let him die. I did what I had to do.

  “How do you know he has slayer?” I asked.

  My only other witness had been Grandma, She’d knelt beside me when I used part of my essence to save Dimitri’s life. Before I did it, she’d warned me nothing comes for free. At the time, I hadn’t cared.

  “I can feel it in him,” Max said, tilting his head as if he could read my secret simply by looking at me. “I’m sure it’s there. Just as I’m sure he’ll never be one of us.”

  No. Guilt crashed down on me in wave after suffocating wave. Of course Dimitri denied it. He didn’t know. His entire identity and future was wrapped in his heritage, the purity of his griffin ancestry.

  He’d bet his soul on it.

  I had to get him out of here. Tonight. Once I told him what I’d done, he’d probably want to leave.

  The entire time I’d known him, he’d been working to get back to Greece, to fulfill his destiny as a noble griffin.

  In one step, I’d taken that away from him.

  At the time, it seemed like a taste of my power would only serve to strengthen him. I hadn’t counted on the fact that it might open him up to a kind of danger he had no protection against.

  Max’s hands slid over the steering wheel, almost in a caress. His collar shifted, revealing a silver chain around his neck.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t sense the griffin’s slaying power, however minor.” Max said. “You knew me.”

  Did I ever.

  But of course I wouldn’t be able to feel Dimitri’s slayer essence. I didn’t sense myself. And that was what he had inside of him, a small part of my energy, a taste of my power—an indelible stain on the very thing that made him who he was.

  Forgive me, Dimitri.

  “He’s a liability,” Max stated. “He could have been a help if he were of pure griffin blood, like he claims. But his blood is tainted. Granted, it’s slayer blood, but not enough to make him useful. He’ll suck your energy dry trying to regain his strength.”

  “You mean like you did to that succubus?”

  A wicked laugh rumbled from his throat. “I don’t want or crave their essence. He wants yours, and he’ll take it.”

  The memory of it chilled me to the core. “How can you know he’d just take it?”

  Max locked me into a smoldering gaze. “Who wouldn’t?”

  We drove for a long time until Max finally stopped the car along the side of an abandoned prison thirty miles outside of Henderson. Gray metal guard towers flanked rusted fences. Barbed wire coiled along the tops, sagging in spots. Weeds littered the ground and sprouted between the concrete basketball courts in the yard. A dented sign read Southeast Nevada State Women’s Minimal Security Correctional Center. I wouldn’t want to recite that each time I answered the phone. And I wasn’t about to get out of the car, not until Max the hunter put my mind to rest about a few things.

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “You think I’m too stupid to live?”

  He seemed almost surprised. “Where did that come from?”

  Oh please. “Let’s see. Is it the dark, abandoned prison? Or the fact you could be a raving lunatic?” One who eats women. Okay, evil she-demons. But still…

  He considered the question. “You know I’m a hunter,” he said, eyeing me thoughtfully. “I’ve left you your weapons. My reaction time would have been pathetic if you’d decided to switch-star me on Highway 95.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, matching my stance. “You seem to be mated to a raging beast who could have killed me last night.”

  A smile tickled the sides of my lips. Go Dimitri.

  Max seemed less than amused. “And, Lizzie,” he said, abandoning pretext and leaning forward, his words clipped and biting, “if you don’t screw up and get yourself killed, you’re my secret weapon against an invasion of succubi the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

  Ice trickled through my veins. “What do you mean invasion?”

  I almost didn’t want him to answer. Because deep down, a part of me had already known.

  “Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you.”

  Excerpt from The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers:

  Demon Slayer: In our hands, switch stars kill demons. Demon Hunter: A different breed of demon-fighting warrior. Hunters have the strength to throw switch stars, but only to stun or wound. To make the kill requires them to give up a part of themselves to the demons. Beware of the darkness that enables a hunter to choose this type of killing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I could feel the demons the minute we slipped past a cut in the fence, near where we hid the car. There was no mistaking the pungent stench of sulfur in the night air. Along with it, the hint of rot, decay—of utter wrong in a place that hadn’t been quite right to begin with.

  They waited. For what, I could only guess.

  Being in the middle of the desert at night reminded me of the quiet after a storm. Back home in Atlanta, crickets, frogs and all sorts of nocturnal whatnots screamed until dawn. I’d always taken it for granted. Night = noisy. That was when I hardly believed in the devil, much less met one.

  The oppressive stillness was unsettling on a fundamental level. I couldn’t figure out why until my mind trickled back to the last time the silence of a place had swallowed me whole.

  I’d been with Dimitri in the wastelands of hell.

  Just where was Max taking me?

  Our dress shoes sounded like army boots as we crunched over the crumbling parking lot. Scraggly weeds scratched at my ankles and large cracks tore at my heels. Signs reserving spots for VIPs and visitors lolled drunkenly. The building itself hunkered like a large, dark beast, stark against the endless desert behind it.

  I wished we were alone, that I didn’t feel something watching us from behind the darkened windows.

  Reaching out with my mind, I tried to locate the diciest hot spots, or heck, anything that felt like attacking. I almost preferred a straight-out fight to sneaking around waiting for something bad to happen.

  The worst of the malevolence rested low in the building. And it was very, very angry.

  “What in the world happened here?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice above a whisper.

  “I came,” Max said, flatly.

  Sometimes, a half answer is worse than no answer at all.

  He led me behind a row of dead bushes at the edge of the parking lot and past an old prison cemetery on the side of the building. The chill of the desert sent goose bumps skittering up my skin. I hadn’t planned on exploring a demonic, abandoned penitentiary tonight or I would have worn something more than my purple silk dress.

  Max had talked about an invasion of succubi. Had the battle already begun?

  My throat caught at a blur of movement in one of the windows ahead of us. A dazzling red orb hovered behind the chain-linked safety glass.

  “Max. Look.”

  He followed the direction of my outstretched finger, alarmingly unconcerned. “That’s not one of ours.”

  I stiffened. “Ours?”

  He arched a brow. “You are a demon slayer, right?”

  Bad question. My reply hitched in my throat. It was just as well. It took me a m
oment to realize his attempt at a joke. Let him figure out later that I probably couldn’t kick his ass.

  Max clicked open the padlock on a side entrance and led me into a large industrial kitchen. I inhaled stale air, mixed with the last of the fresh as he eased the door closed. Darkness consumed us, save for the scarlet light of an orb as it hovered over the chef’s serving station.

  The thing practically pulsed with energy. “Is that the same one?” I asked.

  I stood in the dark and listened as Max locked us in. “Don’t waste your energy. Unless they attack.” He handed me a Mini Maglite. “Shine it down, away from the windows.”

  Annoyed, and more than a little scared, I flipped on my light. The beam, surprisingly strong, illuminated the black safety mat in front of me, as well as the giant ladles, serving spoons and tongs hanging over the metal counters on each side of us.

  My heart fluttered as the orb approached me low, like a mountain lion stalking its prey. I hadn’t even realized I stopped breathing until I started again with a gasp. It flared and circled around behind me, a glowing ball of malice off my left shoulder.

  Be strong.

  “Look to the Outside,” I said to myself, trying to find comfort in my Demon Slayer Truths. “Accept the Universe.” Okay, we could skip the last one—Sacrifice Yourself.

  “Be strong,” I repeated out loud.

  Because whether I liked it or not, my white knight was AWOL. I was the only one who could rescue me. And it was not the time to let Max know I was on a learner’s permit.

  “This way,” Max said, not even bothering to make sure I followed.

  His brisk, even stride forced me to jog a half step behind as we left the kitchen for a neglected service corridor. The orb matched my pace. I’d ignore it unless it attacked, which was easier said than done. It hovered at the edge of my vision, a constant threat.

  Our flashlights cast milky circles on the cement-block walls. I was hyperaware of every cell in my body as my heels clacked in a steady rhythm against the linoleum of the endless passageway. It was almost as if something waited for us to get closer, to cut ourselves off completely before it made itself known.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, when my light found a gaping stairwell, a scant few steps head. It led straight for the mass I’d felt.

  Max ignored me, rumbling down into the darkness.

  I’ve never been overly religious, but I made the sign of the cross anyway as I paused at the top. Now was not the time to give in to claustrophobia. Sulfur tingled my nose, along with the unmistakable rot in the air. Each step down into the dark abyss felt like sinking farther and farther into black water. Our lights barely penetrated the pitch dark of the place as we took the first stairway, the second, the third. The orb, if possible, seemed to glow brighter.

  “It’s a good repellent,” Max said, shattering the silence, nearly causing me to fall down the last six steps.

  “What?” I asked, grasping for the banister. “The flashlight?” If so, I wanted a bigger one.

  “The iron,” he said, as if I already knew.

  “Are we talking about demons?” I asked, reaching the concrete floor of the prison basement.

  Max flipped on the lights, blinding me with their brightness. “How much did you have to drink at that club, Lizzie?”

  “Geez, nothing!” I said, shielding my eyes, willing for them to adjust faster. I blinked several times while Max stood waiting, impatience written across his angled features.

  “What would we be discussing if it wasn’t demons?” He demanded.

  Evidently nothing, which was peachy with me.

  “Okay,” I said, giving my eyes a final rub, and the orb another check. It hovered off my right shoulder, eerily alive against the stained concrete walls. They’d been aqua once and still were in some places. In others, large chunks of paint peeled away like dead skin on the floor. A massive network of pipes loomed overhead. “Start from the top.”

  Max scowled. Thank goodness he assumed my ignorance in steel making rather than in demon slaying, because he said, “I’m talking about the steel in this place—the bars, the doors, the grates, the holding cells. Steel is made from iron.”

  “And iron repels succubi.” I tried to make a statement, rather than ask.

  “That I can guarantee,” he said, shooting me a look that told me he’d been starting to wonder.

  Join the club.

  “This way,” he said, leading me through what had been the kitchen laundry. The machines had been torn out of the walls long ago, leaving shadows of bare concrete and rusted pipes thrusting from the walls. “The older steel down here has an unusually low carbon count,” Max said over his shoulder. “It gives us an even higher concentration of iron. Believe me, we need it.”

  Iron repelled succubi. Nice to know. If we got out of here, I was going to order Uncle Phil a pair of iron underpants. Double thick.

  I watched Max’s wide back, the sliced shirt flowing against his muscles as he moved. Max could write The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers with his eyes closed. Of course, we’d have to rename it.

  Burying the urge to ask more, I followed him through the labyrinth. Too bad I needed him to think I was badder than I was. For now at least.

  But I couldn’t resist one giant presumption, based on the thick silver cross he wore. “And succubi are attracted to silver.”

  “No. Platinum.”

  “So that’s a platinum cross?”

  He stopped.

  “You have holes in your shirt,” I reminded him.

  His suspicion faded, but it didn’t leave entirely. “I find it’s easier when they come to me,” he said tightly.

  “Do they?” I asked, unable to imagine what a horrible life that would be.

  “Sometimes,” he replied.

  Max led me into another hallway, then stopped in front of a set of massive steel doors. In fact, I realized as I took in the whole of the place, the cramped hallway consisted of nothing but door upon door, at least twenty, down to a dead end. The overhead pipes didn’t even reach this far into the underbelly of the prison.

  “The hole,” he explained. “It was put out of commission long before they ever modernized the place. Lucky for me,” he said with a little too much relish. “Each of these babies is a perfect steel box.”

  The wards in this place were amazing. I didn’t even feel them until I touched the door nearest me. It stung like dry ice.

  “Is this where the invasion starts?” I asked.

  Max laid his hand, palm down against the door, hissing at the pain, welcoming it. “This is where it ends.”

  Yeah, well I liked things spelled out better than that. “What do you want?”

  He straightened like a Marine, his intensity admirable and frightening at the same time. “I need both you and your twin.”

  “I don’t have a twin,” I answered.

  “Damn it, slayer,” he snapped. “This is no time to bargain. It is your obligation, your destiny to destroy these creatures. If not, you’re going to see a slaughter the likes of which you can’t imagine. And if you think you’re safe because you don’t come from around here, think again. These demons will spread like the plague. Rest assured, if you don’t give your blood and guts to stop it, I’ll kill you myself.”

  With a roar, he yanked the door clear open.

  I didn’t even have time for a holy Sheboygan. Claws and teeth extended, the succubus screeched for me. I ducked and flung a switch star, catching her in the throat as icy lips descended onto mine. She exploded into a cloud of gray ash, but not before I felt her begin to tease out my essence, or was it my soul?

  I rolled, crunching my shoulder into the wall as I grabbed another switch star, ready to throw. When I realized no more demons were coming for me, I leapt to my feet.

  Nothing else lived and breathed in the corridor, except a smug-looking Max. “I thought so,” he said.

  Adrenaline coursed through me. “What the hell are you doing?” I demande
d. I wanted to scream, punch the wall, throttle him.

  “I had to make sure you were who I thought you were,” he said simply.

  Oh. Sure. Righty-o. “And if I wasn’t?” Or if I’d had a bad day? Or if my fingers had been too sweaty? Or if I’d sneezed at the wrong time?

  “Then you’d be dead.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is war, Lizzie. And I’m playing to win.”

  I wanted to scream as I shoved my switch star into my belt while keeping an eye on him.

  “That was my most powerful prisoner.” He strode purposefully over the ashes scattered on the concrete floor between us. “You’re good,” he remarked, as if we’d just played a round of golf.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Maybe, but I’m still alive.”

  My hacked-off state amused the man. Evidently, he’d been hanging out with she-demons for too long. Whatever he wanted from me, he was going to have to ask real friggin’ nice from now on.

  “Are you set?” he asked.

  Suspicion rolled over me. “For what?” I barked, hitching my final star.

  “I’ve got more holding cells. Seventeen more demons. Want to go again or do you want to tell me about your twin?”

  Oh for the love of Pete. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

  He stared at me, dead serious. “This is war, Lizzie.”

  “Fine,” I shouted. If we didn’t need him in this world, I’d switch-star him myself.

  I blew out a breath. Chill out. Forget that he launched a soul-stealing demon at your head.

  It was the first time I’d felt the urge to punch another human being. It would feel good. I knew it. But it wasn’t me. None of this was me. What did I do in preschool when I needed to calm down? I counted to ten.

  “What are you doing?” He demanded.

  “I’m counting to ten!” I screamed.

  “Oh.” A smile quirked on his lips. “Well, that seems to be working.”

  I ignored him and launched into the truth. Screw him if he didn’t believe it. “I wasn’t born to be a demon slayer,” I began.