by Angie Fox
Gritting my teeth, I eased my head back on the warm asphalt and stared up at the cloudless desert sky. Oh for the days when I didn't feel the need to prove my antigravity capabilities to a tiny Asian woman who may or may not be a dragon.
She frowned down at me, interrupting my view of the heavens. Her oversculpted eyebrows jabbed at me like accusing fingers.
I took a deep breath. It was time to try and salvage this test. Somehow.
"I'm good," I said to the Dragon Lady, not expecting a response. Careful of the nails strewn everywhere, I pulled myself into a sitting position. Hard to believe I'd missed each and every one of them.
The Dragon Lady scribbled on her clipboard. "Outside magic is illegal."
"You think what I just did was magical?" I asked, prying a small rock out of my bloodied left shoulder. Dang, that stung.
New rule: no looking at that shoulder until I could do something about it.
"You fail."
"What?" I braced my hands on the pavement as a new kind of pain punched me in the head. I couldn't fail. I never failed. "Hold up," I said, lurching to my feet, ignoring the way my legs threatened to buckle. "I may not be great at levitation, but I aced that target back there." On the second try, but she didn't say I only had one chance. My heart stuttered. "This is a matter of life or death."
She looked at me as if I suggested she dance naked through the street.
"You fail."
Fail?
"That's it? That's all you can say?" It couldn't possibly be over this fast. "Is there anything I can do? Extra credit? Another test?"
She didn't even have the courtesy to respond.
"How long until I can take the test again?"
"One week," she said, handing me a red slip.
"A week? I don't have a week." My uncle was in trouble now. And even if I could learn to levitate in a week, I didn't know if I could pass the rest of the test anyway.
She skewered me with an exacting glare, as if she could pull me apart right there and examine my worth. Yeah, well I didn't amount to much right now if I couldn't even rescue my uncle.
Harleys thundered on the other side of the wall. What was I going to tell the Red Skulls?
Stone-faced, the Dragon Lady eased a long purple rod out of a side pocket in her pants. It had to be two feet long, jagged in spots, smooth in others. "You hold still," she ordered as she came at me with the thing.
Yeah right. I could have run to Cleveland with the excess energy I was trying to hold back.
I forced myself to stay put as she came at me. The rod swirled with a life all its own. My shoulders tensed. I'd wondered where the magic was. Now I regretted wondering.
Whatever she was going to do with that thing was not going to be fun.
She touched it to my ear and I felt a cold energy seep through my head, down through my neck and arms.
"I thought you said the test was over," I said, fighting not to flinch. Sure, she was stone-cold and possibly evil, but I didn't think she'd hurt me. Probably. I fisted my hands and forced them to my sides, my fingernails slicing into my palms.
Get a grip.
This had to be standard procedure. If I was getting ready to face a soul-stealing she-demon, I could handle the dragon lady and her oversized stick. She gripped my chin with a chilly, freakishly strong hand. I clenched my teeth as she forced the rod farther into my ear canal.
I never thought anything would make me miss those standardized tests at the DMV. Those stubby pencils and—"Yow!" The rod stung like an icicle. I cringed, trying to ignore the low thwom, thwom, thwom of the gadget from hell.
"What is that thing?"
"You stay still."
Easy for her to say. Something gooey trickled into my ear. My right hand eased down to my switch stars, just in case. Of course leveling a switch star at my DIP Examiner wouldn't bode well for my licensing efforts.
Boots crunched up behind me. I tried to turn, but the rod in my ear made it impossible.
I heard a chuckle, which was almost worse than the thwom, thwom, thwom.
"Very interesting," said a smooth male voice behind me.
"She failed."
"I saw," he replied. "It was like pitching a semitruck off a cliff."
He moved to where I could see him, a man in his early forties with an overlong face, thick gray hair and a little too much amusement in his eyes. At least he looked human. He wore a standard beige DIP uniform and nodded at me like I should somehow know him. "You avoided a nail pit back there. That takes skill."
"Enough to pass the test?" Maybe this was Dragon Lady's boss. "I need to get my license in order to—"
His grey eyes twinkled. "I know why you're going to Vegas, Miss Brown."
"How?" I stammered.
"That doesn't matter." He dipped a hand into his front pocket and cocked his head sideways. "Officer Ly?"
She drew the rod out of my ear and I found myself rubbing at the spot where it had been.
He handed me a Kleenex. "You're off the charts when it comes to natural ability. I've never seen the divining rod go blue before."
I turned to see the Dragon Lady wiping it down with an alcohol swab. Sure enough, it sparkled with an eerie, ice blue light. And it had shrunk about a foot.
"What good is that going to do me if I can't get my license today?"
The Dragon Lady balanced the rod on her clipboard and began scribbling. "According to your reading on the Augur Rod, you are in fact a demon slayer and therefore entitled to a Demon Slayer's Learner's Permit, to be used in the presence of an instructor as per the Demonic Licensing Code, subset C."
Relief whooshed through me, along with the distinct feeling that I'd somehow regressed back to age fifteen. "So I can go to Vegas on some kind of a supervised program?"
She frowned. "You have an instructor?"
"Yes." Grandma qualified. For the most part. "An excellent instructor," I said, wishing I was right.
"You will wait inside for your permit to be printed, at a cost of twenty dollars, payable by cash, check or credit card."
"Fine." Pride is overrated anyway. At least I could finally do my job.
"You will leave the testing area." The Dragon Lady turned on her heel, and I was about to follow her when the gray-haired man touched my arm, setting off a new wave of pain down my left side.
"With me," the man added. "I'm Senior Officer Reynolds." He delivered a smile designed to reassure, and I felt a warning tickle in the back of my brain. He reminded me of my high school principal, who had a way of making me feel like I'd been scheming, even when the wildest thing I did was play five card stud for pennies during lunch.
Reynolds winked, like he knew what I was thinking, and I decided right then and there I didn't like whatever kind of power he had.
"If you'd like to step into my office, I have a proposal for you."
Of course. Dread slicked through me. Everybody wanted something, although I wondered what Senior Officer Reynolds could possibly want from a demon slayer with a learner's permit.
He led me through the side door of the DIP office and down a hallway behind the main customer area. Traces of magic lingered below the stained yellow ceiling tiles and I could almost sense something above. "This place only has one story, right?"
Officer Reynolds didn't answer. Instead, he motioned me into a cramped gray room with a small industrial desk and two hard-backed folding chairs. "Have a seat," he said, wedging himself between the desk and a potted plant he'd ambitiously placed between it and the cinder block wall.
I sat, arms over my chest, feeling the tug as a messy scab began to form on my chewed-up left arm.
Officer Reynolds leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "I understand why you're suspicious. Everyone wants something from a demon slayer, right? Well, I promise I won't delay you or put you in any more danger than you're already in."
How comforting.
He ignored my apprehension. "Word is that you're heading into Las Vegas to take out a succ
ubus."
I nodded. "One has her claws in my uncle."
He tented his fingers. "With a learner's permit, you are allowed to attack if provoked—in the presence of your instructor, of course. However, I suggest you lure her out of the city before you attack."
"Why?" Spilling demon blood could disrupt gravity for a few seconds, maybe startle a couple of folks in the immediate vicinity, but quite frankly, that was the least of our problems.
"I'm sure you understand that we've always had a succubi issue in Las Vegas. It's what lends the city its charm, really, that 'devil may care' attitude."
I stared him down, refusing to believe a demon could be charming.
"Nevertheless," he said, straightening in his chair, "it's gotten a bit out of hand. We started with six. At last count, we had thirteen."
Holy Hades. I couldn't clear out that many. Not that he'd asked.
With a start, I realized why he'd suggested I lure my uncle's she-devil out of the city. If the succubi learned of a slayer in Las Vegas, they'd swarm me. I'd have no shot—not against that many. "How'd it get so bad?"
Officer Reynolds cleared his throat. "Time, a lack of options. The Department for Intramagical Welfare has studied the situation extensively and determined it isn't worth the risk. The demons police themselves… somewhat," he said, fingering his collar. "Never mind."
These bureaucrats were insane. "You think it's easier to ignore thirteen demons than it is to deal with them?"
His cheeks colored. "I don't make the rules. I follow them. But it is true. I don't know how we'd uproot the demons. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure the American public would want us to. They lend a certain air of unpredictability. What happens in Vegas…" He cleared his throat. "Anyhow, I'm certain you're aware of this," he said in a tone that suggested the opposite. "As a demon slayer, you can sense how many are in a single location."
I wasn't following.
"You can get a head count if you will."
"Okay," I said, unwilling to admit that was news to me. Then again, I'd never been in the presence of multiple demons. And of course telling me in advance wouldn't help me to prepare because—let's face it—I had no idea what I was doing.
"We'd prefer that you not contact any of the Greater Nevada Magical Governing Departments while you're in Las Vegas. We'd rather not be involved if things get messy."
"Oh sure." Scary thing was I was used to this kind of thing. Be a good little demon slayer and help us out while we leave you high and dry. If I had a switch star for every time…
Well, unfortunately, I did.
Reynolds delivered a wan smile. Yeah, he knew what I was thinking.
"We'll send a plainclothes representative to you. One of the fairies."
I have to admit I lit up at that. I'd never known fairies existed, much less met one.
He smoothed his short gray hair. "If you'd be so kind as to tell us how bad the problem has gotten," he said, sliding open the top drawer of his desk, "I'll let you keep this, ahem, guide until your next exam. You can study up," he said as he flipped through the official DIP Guide to the Demonic Licensing Exam, Volume 3.
Guide? This was an antique, done in purple mimeo type. I picked it up and flipped through the yellowed pages. "Is this your latest version?" I asked. "There's a diagram of a garter belt switch star holder in here."
Officer Reynolds had the decency to look embarrassed. "The book was printed the last time we had a slayer in town. A pair of them, actually—back in 1936. After that?" He shrugged.
Yeah, yeah. I knew. Everybody wanted a demon slayer—nobody wanted to train one.
I knew there weren't a lot of us out there, but, "Why is there no updated instruction book?" I asked. "How is it you have printed pamphlets out in the lobby for basic witchcraft, exorcism"—Reynolds snorted, but I kept going—"Heck, the library stocks spell books. Ever heard of Divination for Dummies? I have. Then there's Voodoo for Dummies, Druids for Dummies, Alternative Magick for Dummies. I can learn how to brew up "protective" bath bubbles, but when it comes to saving people from the scourge of hell, I have to wing it?"
He raised a finger. "You don't wing it," he said, the lines on his face deepening. "You listen to your instructor."
If I'd listened to my instructor, I'd be in Vegas right now, probably being ambushed by about a dozen she-demons. We'd almost messed up. Bad.
I was tired of taking chances.
I always had a plan—except when we ran into scary magical creatures that wanted to kill us. No more. I was going to take control. I'd start a diary. No, a guide. I'd seen The Dangerous Book for Boys in every store from Mississippi to here. I'd create my own manual. The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers.
In it, I'd record everything I knew (not much) and start filling in the gaps from there. The more I thought about it, the giddier I became. I could study how fast and far switch stars could go. There could be a whole section on magical creatures, forbidden and otherwise. I could make modifications to my utility belt, starting with the critter that lived in the back and liked to chew holes in my nightshirts. I could find other slayers. I knew we were rare, but it was all the more reason to stick together. When we supported each other, demon slayers across the world could fight harder, be more efficient.
I could control my life and my destiny—one color-coded binder at a time.
The 1936 handbook would offer a decent start. I flipped through the old book. Sure, I could probably lose the section on demonic jazz clubs and demon activity at the dedication of Boulder Dam. Maybe keep parts on how imps had been trained to drive cars. I hadn't realized they were so smart.
I squinted. Lo and behold. "Are these recipes in the back?"
"Don't let the outmoded wording fool you. There's some good information in there." He hesitated. "I know you're desperate."
"Look, I might not be able to levitate—" and maybe I'd seemed a bit frantic when I thought they were going to refuse to let me into town…
His smile was grim. "You're bringing a griffin into Las Vegas. I know you're desperate."
"Never mind how you know about Dimitri," because somebody was certainly a snitch, "but why shouldn't I bring a griffin into Las Vegas?" As far as I could see, my strong, steady boyfriend was my best shot at getting out of there alive.
"Griffins are of the sun, the light. Energy, power flows from them."
He had that right. My body warmed just thinking of Dimitri.
Officer Reynolds leaned across his desk, hands clasped, his expression somber. "Griffins are a succubus's favorite snack."
My heart slammed in my throat.
Dimitri had done it again. Maybe it was a griffin trait. I wanted to understand, but I couldn't help it—it drove me crazy every time he'd run off and try to solve everything himself. It usually involved sacrificing himself for what he perceived to be the good of the group. He had no right to do it, especially when he didn't even have the decency to tell me where he was going.
Reynolds looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. "Ahh, so you're not bringing a griffin into the city to act as a sort of locator beacon?"
"Stop it," I said. I didn't know what Officer Reynolds was, but enough was enough. "Why would anyone use a person like a locator beacon?" That's horrible, I thought. On purpose. To test him.
At least Reynolds had the decency to look embarrassed. "It used to be standard practice. Griffins can even fight succubi, for a while. Surely you know the story about the two griffin clans that defended London back in 932 AD? The ones honored on the London coat of arms?" He shook his head. "Never mind."
"Do griffins know about this? What succubi can do to them?"
"Of course. Griffins avoid them at all costs."
Except my griffin.
Forget the succubi—I was going to kill Dimitri myself.
Chapter Four
I stormed out of the DIP office, a Demon Slayer Learner's Permit in my back pocket and fire in my eyes. Dimitri had a lot of nerve to put himself at risk wi
thout telling me. Sure, I wanted to help my Uncle Phil, but not at the expense of the man I think I might love. Not that I was in the mood for any romantic confessions. Right now, I'd just as soon chuck Dimitri off the Dragon Lady's ladder as kiss him.
Biker witches jammed the parking lot roasting weenies and burning rubber. Some joker was playing Van Halen's Runnin' with the Devil on a boom box. I didn't see Dimitri right away. If we wanted to work together—heck, if we wanted to be together, he'd better start leveling with me.
Pirate, my Jack Russell terrier shot out of the crowd like a miniature thunder clap. "Lizzie!"
Ever since I'd grown into my powers as a demon slayer, I could hear my terrier talk—and talk and talk.
Pirate ran smack into my knee, bounced off and jumped up again. "I'm Sidecar Bob's barbeque helper! Want a hotdog? They come in two flavors—raw and cooked."
I scooped him up before he could hurt himself. He wriggled against me as I planted a kiss on the back of his neck. Pirate was the one thing in my life that always made sense.
"Have you seen Dimitri?" I asked, brushing Cheetos dust off his back. Leave it to the witches to feed him junk food. When Pirate wasn't half orange, he was mostly white, with a dollop of brown on his back that wound up his neck and over one eye.
"Dimitri? Sure! Dimitri taught me blackjack! It would have been easier if I could count. Want me to show you? I know you always wanted me to be able to do tricks."
True, although I'd been aiming more along the lines of sit and shake. Maybe a nice roll over that didn't take place within the picketed confines of my adoptive mother's award-winning Daisy Bess rose garden.
"So where's Dimitri?" I asked, scanning the hot parking lot. With the witches so spread out, not to mention the strip mall's regular customers, it was hard to see who went where.
"Ohhh—you mean now," Pirate said, jamming his wet nose into the crook of my elbow. "I don't know where Dimitri is now. I was with him, and then Bob opened up a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and after that, things get a little hazy."