Sophie caught me right as the meeting was ending and gave me a small brown bag. I thanked her and took a quick sniff of the contents. Blech.
I had just enough time for a quick snack before heading off to school. I passed Mrs. Murphy’s house and when one of her cats spotted me, it let out a long, miserable yowl. Like it was trying to wake the dead or something.
I’ve got news for you kitty, I’m already up,
I thought.
It began to follow me. Surely I was mistaken. It looked like the same calico I made Sage take back after Sophie “adopted” it. The last thing I needed was a pathetic hanger-on cat who wanted to be fed. I had to eat myself. I turned back to it.
“Shoo, cat. Beat it. I’ve got stuff to do today.”
It stood still and stared at me with yellow eyes. I turned to walk and sure enough, the cat continued to follow me.
Stupid cat. Fine, follow me all the way to school. You’re not my responsibility.
I felt like a jerk walking ten paces in front of a cat who was walking in step with me. I decided to lose it at the Starbucks. I went in one side and tried to mix in with the throng of people waiting for their caffeine hit, then snuck out the side. I weaved around the back of several businesses and back out to a side street. I looked back. No cat. I’d lost it.
I was such a freak, taking the time and trouble to lose a cat that was probably just following the smell of coffee and cream to get food. Still, I did give it the slip so part of me was pleased with my ability to lose a tail. No pun intended.
I arrived on campus and made a beeline straight to Ms. Weatherbee’s office. It was seven in the morning but I was hoping she taught an early class and would stop by her office first. Luck was on my side because I only had to wait ten minutes before she arrived.
She was of average height and size, dark hair pulled back with a barrette, juggling a briefcase, her coffee mug and a purse, while trying to find her keys. She looked like any professor on campus, probably in her thirties.
I jumped up to help her by taking the keys out of her hand and opening her door.
“Thank you, Colby. What a nice surprise,” she said as she dumped her things on her chair and desk. “Do you need any scheduling help? Are you thinking about next semester so soon?”
She sat down in her ergonomic chair and took a sip of her latte.
“No, Ms. Weatherbee, I’m actually here to ask a favor,” I replied.
She seemed surprised. “Really? Well, I’ll certainly help if I can.”
I handed her the list of ingredients and said, “I need help mixing these.”
She tried to mask her surprise by making a great show of putting on reading glasses, which I suspected she didn’t really need. They looked more for show than actual purpose. After reviewing the list, she looked at me with a new type of respect. Or a new type of disbelief, I couldn’t be certain.
“Are you aware of what this is?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then you know how to administer it?”
“Sadly, I’m aware.”
She nodded. “Who’s going to do it?”
I took a deep breath. “Me, myself and I.”
“It’s best that way. Keeps the potion strong without diluting its purpose with another person’s energy.” She took stock of me for a moment then asked, “Colby, do you want some advice?”
I nodded. “Desperately.”
She shot backward in her chair and turned at the last minute to fling open a filing cabinet. She removed a vial that glistened and moved like mercury.
“I suggest adding this to your mix.”
“What is it?”
“Liquid silver. Aesthetically, it adds a nice shimmering quality to the potion; fundamentally, it will boost the potency, helping create a more solid symbol.”
I nodded and she added it to my bag.
“So you know what I’m doing?” I blurted out.
“I have a sneaking suspicion. Do
you
know what you’re doing?”
“Vaguely,” I assured her with a half smile.
“Then what can possibly go wrong?”
We shared a nervous laugh together. She took my bag and placed each one of the ingredients on her desk. Among the things I could identify were small bags of herbs, a sort of paste, two rocks and a vial of dried black paint.
“Uh-oh,” she said, opening the paint and sniffing it. “This won’t work. It’s dried.” She looked at the receipt and shook her head in dismay. “This is a very reputable distributor. I’d bet they gave you their last vial. Without this, your potion will be useless. I’m so sorry, Colby.” She seemed genuinely distressed to share the news with me.
“Can’t I use a substitute or find it online?”
She shook her head at me. “How would you know it was pure if you bought it from some unknown source on the Internet? This is too important to risk that. No, you’re going to have to come up with a Plan B.”
I shook my head at her. “There is no Plan B. At least, not one I would seriously like to entertain. Please, is there anything I can do?”
She eyed me warily, visibly torn between doing what I asked and possibly protecting me. “All right, Colby. I’ll help you. I can tell you where to find this last ingredient, but it’s up to you to get the liquid equivalent, okay? You will need less if it’s fresh.” She riffled through the same file cabinet and gave me a vial. “About this much.”
I nodded. “Where do I get it?”
“Close the door,” she instructed and I hurried to comply. Something was about to happen. Something cool and mystical and I was going to witness it. I watched her pull out a phone book and drop it open on her desk. The pages fluttered, falling open to a yellow section. She closed her eyes and dropped her finger. She looked at the address and wrote it down, including a room number.
You have got to be kidding me. “That was magick in its greatest form?” I was incredulous.
She handed me the paper. “No, that was me, jerking your chain. I knew the address before you got here. I had a vision last night.”
“Oh, good one.” I was disconcerted. Ms. Weatherbee had a warped sense of humor and was actually pretty entertaining. I never even suspected.
“And Colby, if you hurry, you can be in and out with no one being the wiser. Come back tonight and we’ll make your potion.”
I had to ask, “Ms. Weatherbee? Why are you doing all this for me?”
She seemed surprised. “Because you asked for my help.”
“Really? Just because I asked?”
“No, not really. Mr. Holloway instructed me to help you in any way I could. It just made me sound pretty cool the other way, didn’t it?”
I laughed at her again. She was actually a riot.
“One more thing. What am I getting, anyway?”
She became serious. “Blood. You’re getting the blood of a Demon Slayer.”
Twelve
PIPER
I
decided to go to bed. When feeling overwhelmed, climbing in bed and hiding seemed the logical course of action. Of course, I couldn’t stay in bed forever, but a nice long nap sounded heavenly.
Sleep came surprisingly quick. I was exhausted, but my mind had a hard time shutting off. I dreamt Hunter was being crushed to death by a demon and he was screaming my name. I had to help him but I did what I always did: I froze. He just kept calling to me and I couldn’t move. I was stuck. Incapable of motion.
The dream constantly changed but the results were the same. I couldn’t help because I was paralyzed with fear. I would be the worse Demon Slayer in history. It didn’t take a talking cat to figure that out.
Depressed and feeling sorry for myself, I drove to the Psi Phi House. I called and left Hunter a voice mail to join me at the teahouse when he woke up. My best friend didn’t believe I was a Demon Slayer and Hunter hadn’t really jumped at the chance to confirm the cat’s suspicions either. Apparently, the only creatures that believed I was a Demon Slayer were Mr. Whiskers and me. Hardly an auspicious beginning.
I parked about a block away from the House so I could walk around and get some air. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I saw Colby. We’d had a fight, sure. But then, that’s what we did. We fought. It wasn’t like we couldn’t work things out. She’d come around, eventually.
The weather was brisk for a spring morning, but I didn’t mind. The cool air cleared my head. I noticed a small gray cat about two houses from Psi Phi House patiently waiting for me to approach, as though it was expecting me. I thought about Mr. Whiskers. Should I greet this cat and risk looking like an idiot when it turned out to be just another cat?
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain rush through my stomach and I doubled over, therefore narrowly missing the sword that came swooshing at my head. I spun around behind one of the trees that lined the street, using it defensively. A very determined and fermenting vampire was swinging the sword at me for all he was worth, but the tree kept getting in the way.
I did what any self-respecting Demon Slayer would do. I screamed bloody murder. I was too far away from Psi Phi House for a regular person to hear me, but a half-blood who inherited super vampire hearing would have no problem. Were any of those at home?
My only other option was to break off a tree branch and stake my attacker. Did I mention he had a sword? It was unlikely I could get close enough with a piece of wood, even if I did manage to snap one off the healthy tree, without being stabbed or beheaded.
The vampire made another attempt with his sword, this time embedding it in the tree. It was my chance. I kicked him in the groin as he tried to pull the sword lose. The results were not pretty. At least not for him. My foot caught him in the upper right thigh and his leg snapped off at the hip. He tipped over, still trying to pull the sword out.
I tried to run past him, but he grabbed my leg with his hand and I fell.
“My master is coming for you, Demon Slayer,” it rasped as I tried to kick loose.
See, even the vampire zombie knew I was a Demon Slayer, why couldn’t Colby see it?
He pulled me closer and I kicked again, this time making contact with his head, snapping it at the neck. When that didn’t stop him from pulling me toward him I thought,
Enough is enough already.
I trapped his hand by crossing my legs together at the ankle and rolled, hard. The bones in his hand splintered and snapped until he couldn’t hold on anymore.
I scrambled to my feet to run but faltered when I looked back. On the ground, looking much like a bad-smelling, skeletal Terminator, was the vampire zombie, still trying to get to me. I nimbly jumped out of his reach and yanked the sword from the tree.
“Nighty-night,” I said right before severing his neck, effectively removing his head from his body. A hiss of white mist escaped the wound and dissipated into the thin air.
Proud of myself, I looked around to see who witnessed my heroic deed. That would be a resounding no one. Well, no one except the gray cat, who hadn’t moved from his spot through the entire fight.
“Not bad for a newbie, eh?” I said in his direction as I sauntered toward Psi Phi House, brimming with self-confidence.
“Yeah, cutting down a decaying zombie is pretty hot stuff, Slayer.”
The damn cat spoke to me.
“You know, you think it’s easy being a Slayer? There you are in your safe little kitty body, drinking milk out of bowls and getting scratched behind the ears. I don’t see anyone chasing you down with a sword.” I so did not need any attitude from a Sloth Demon right now.
“Ever been chased by a dog? It’s not all peaches and cream.” It started walking beside me.
“I don’t remember asking for an escort.” I glared at him.
“I got news,” the cat said.
“Find Hunter, he’s the guy you want.”
“Can’t. Word on the street is the Protector’s after him. She should be taking care of business right about now.”
I stopped and demanded, “How do you know that?”
“I have my ways,” he assured me mysteriously. I waved the sword around menacingly. “Okay, fine. I’ll spill. You Slayers are all so violent. I know a cat who hangs with a Familiar. Some teacher dame at the college is making up a potion for the Protector that requires Demon Slayer blood.”
“What kind of potion?”
“Do I look like a magick encyclopedia to you?” He was indignant.
“Whatever, I have to go.”
“But what about my news?”
I halted. “Tell me.”
“The cats at Murphy’s house are talking about doing in the old lady.”
“Doing in Mrs. Murphy?”
“No, cupcake, doing in the Psi Phi house mother.” He licked a paw delicately.
“How in the world are a bunch of cats going to do that?” I was impatient to leave.
“Don’t you get it, girl? The cats are working for Barnaby. They’re masterminding his coming-out party. Trying to catch the Protector unawares. Heard they’re sending some vampires in the next blood van.”