The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (10 page)

"Aw, now that's nice," Pirate said, licking my hand.

"How many were there?" Grandma asked.

Pirate's expression fell. "You know I can't count."

Grandma launched her backpack at the wall. "Dammit!" She stood,
fuming. "I would have bet my bike the wards wouldn't let succubi up on
this floor," Grandma said. "I forgot they had slaves."

"Great," I growled. I didn't know what the hell I was doing and
Grandma forgot.

"We really screwed this up," I said,
we
meaning her.

Here we were, fighting for my uncle, trying to save him the way he saved me;
not to mention clearing the way to get out of Vegas before something even worse
happened. I'm laying everything on the line and Grandma gets sloppy. Worse, I
had no idea how to fix it. I didn't have the knowledge. She did. And it looked
like I couldn't always count on her to think things through.

Her eyes narrowed. "You want to tell me something, sport?"

Oh yeah, I did. Lucky for her, we didn't have time to argue.

"They're not just sucking energy. They're killing people," I said.
Uncle Phil would be next as soon as they got what they wanted from him.

"How does it work?" I asked Grandma. "We know their power is
growing. What we don't know is if that's attracting demons from other places,
or,"—I really didn't want to think about this—"if they're
using that power to draw more of their numbers straight out of hell."

Could they even do that? It would take a lot of energy. But I couldn't begin
to imagine how else their numbers could increase so rapidly.

"I don't know," Grandma said, clearly not wishing to dwell on the
topic any more than I did. Well tough. We had to figure this out. I hunkered at
the foot of the bed and rubbed Pirate's ears as if that was going to give me any
ideas.

"Um, Lizzie," Pirate nosed my wrist. "I don't mean to
interrupt your thinking there, but I have some business to attend to as
well."

It took me a second to even know he'd spoken. "Say what?" I asked.

"Oh you know what. I spotted a nice grouping of palm trees next to the
pool."

I took him to an empty lot behind the hotel. It clung to the very edge of
the parking lot, a forgotten smidge of land—big enough for Pirate, but
too small to do much else with.

Night had fallen, and Pirate danced in and out of the circles of light from
the parking lot. I rolled my shoulders as I double-checked my switch stars.

Pirate sniffed at a tuft of weeds with tiny yellow flowers. "Oooh, now
these are nice."

"You mind shaking a leg?" I asked. The menace in the air hadn't let
up. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Pirate let out a long, wet snarf. "I'm just appreciating my
environment. That's the great thing about being a dog. We know when to stop and
sniff the flowers. And the rocks. And the dirt. And the grass. And ooh and
here's a lovely crushed-up can of… hmm… I don't know what that
is."

I stared up at the clear night sky. I tried to use the moment to clear my
brain, focus my energies. But all I could think about was Dimitri—where
he was right now, and why he wasn't here with me. I pulled my phone out of the
top front right pocket of my utility belt. I'd begun to text him. Again. When I
heard a sandy voice behind me.

"You call those turtle knees? These here are turtle knees."

"Battina?" Grandma's head apothecary specialized in hard-to-find
ingredients.

"Who's that?" Battina's head popped up from behind a white PT
Cruiser. Red glasses perched on the end of her nose and her ash blonde hair
fluttered in the night.

"It's Lizzie," I called.

She plucked her glasses off and let them dangle from a silver chain around
her neck. "Oh hey, Lizzie. You mind giving us a hand over here?"

"Pirate," I said to my dog, who stood completely immobile for no
particular reason. "You stay here."

"Mmmmm," he said, savoring the air, his nose pulsing like a
heartbeat. "Done and done."

I jogged over to Battina and found her huddled over two six-packs of soda
bottles and a half dozen empty sun tea jars. She was with Spinebreaker, Jan
Elkins, the library witch. Actually Jan preferred to be called the Library Hag.
She wore her hair in pink braids today. The witch refused to go gray, and
changed her hair color to anything but on a regular basis.

Jan lifted a bottle of chocolate-flavored Jones Soda out of the case like it
was liquid gold. Then I noticed the cork in the top. That wasn't soda.

"What's up?" I asked. "Did you guys find Dimitri?"

Jan dug through the rest of her bottles until she found another one she
wanted. "Ant Eater tracked him down," she said, holding up a bottle
of Grape. "Phoned it in to your Grandma right before we headed over
here."

She handed it over to Battina, who uncorked it.

Phew, my nose burned. "What's in that thing? Lighter fluid?" My
heart stuttered when she lit a match.

Wait a second. "You think that's a good idea?" I asked.

Battina chuckled as she tossed a match into the bottle and planted the cork
back on top. "It's not really grape soda. We wouldn't ruin a good bottle
of Jones. These are pickled turtle's knees. Very good in antidemonic wards.
Only you have to toast them." She rattled the bottle. "Like
this." A small curl of smoke escaped from the top.

Jan picked up a cork-topped bottle of ginger ale. "And this here is
fresh Georgia creek water." She dumped it into a sun tea jar.
"Nothing but the best."

"No kidding." I'd never seen these two at work before.
"What's in the bottle that says Gravy?"

Jan tucked a lock of pink hair behind her ear. "Oh that actually is
gravy soda," she said. "It's a special flavor. They only make it at
Thanksgiving, so I stock up." She popped it open and took a long swig.
"Mmm… gravy-licious. Want to try it?"

"I'll pass. Now what about Dimitri?"

Jan shrugged. "He said he's got things to do and he'll be back
tonight."

That's it? Things to do? I'd like to do a few things to him right
now—none of which he'd enjoy.

"So… what?" I asked. "You let him go?"

Battina took a peek into the turtle knees bottle before dumping out the
gloopy black contents—match included—on top of the creek water in
the sun tea jar. "What did you want us to do? Sit on a one-hundred-eighty-pound
griffin? Actually, Ant Eater tried, but he shifted and flew off."

"Jerk," I muttered.

Battina shrugged. "He's your boyfriend. Now you mind helping us lug
these spell jars over to the hotel? We had to toast the turtle knees over here.
They're not very stable when you mix them with kerosene. But really, they're
for the outside walls of the place."

"Extra protection?" I hoped.

"It sure ain't for the smell." Jan snickered.

Pirate joined us as we spent the next twenty minutes throwing protective
wards at the walls of the hotel. They weighed a ton and smelled like the inside
of a gas tank. It's a wonder we didn't get arrested.

"How long will these hold?" I asked Battina.

She rubbed her fingers along the wall and sniffed them. "Oh we'll be
out here every two or three hours checking. You can't be too careful."

"You want a helper?" Pirate danced in place.

"Why not?" Battina said. "You need to get out of the hotel
every once in awhile. Jan and I could use a guard dog."

Jan rubbed him on the head. "You can be in charge of guarding my
bottles."

"Hear that, Lizzie? I'm in charge!"

"Thanks," I said. These witches might be rough around the edges,
but every one of them had a good heart. "I owe you one."

Battina studied the wards, and glanced back at Jan's soda-bottle cases of
ingredients. "Get us out of here by tomorrow and we're even."

Excerpt from
The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers:

Fairies tend to be at least five feet tall, sweet smelling, and glittery
at times. They love gambling but can't stand bells. Grandma says it's no
coincidence that the casinos are full of ringing bells, as fairies can
manipulate time and influence the future
—
not what you'd want in
a casino. Fairies are a feared, outcast class in the magical world. Still, I
think having a full-blooded fairy on your side could come in quite handy
.

We'd barely made it back to the room when a hollow knock sounded at the
door.

Pirate about hurt himself dashing for the door. "It's company!"

The good kind, I hoped.

I opened the door to a scowling little man who could have been Danny
DeVito's brother. He was shorter than most, balding, with a round body and hair
that circled his head like a wiry black halo. Glitter tumbled onto his
shoulders like a bad case of dandruff and he reeked of bubblegum.

He held on to a cheap gray document case with one hand and flashed a badge
with the other. Beige lettering splashed across the silver emblem—SID
FUZZLEBUMP, DIP INVESTIGATOR. He gave Grandma a onceover. "You Lizzie
Brown?"

She should be the one with the learner's permit. I spoke up. "I'm
Lizzie Brown. And what do you mean DIP? Are you here about the succubi?"
Officer Reynolds had said they'd send someone.

Maybe he knew something. Maybe he'd seen something. Frankly, I didn't know
what to make of this strange man with glittery ring-around-the-collar. I braced
a hand on my black utility belt, in case we ended up needing a switch star or
two.

He scowled at my defensive posture. "I'm with the Department of
Intramagical Procedures. I'm the expendable guinea pig, here to see if you got
off your precious demon slayer tuchis long enough to get a count of the succubi
in Vegas."

Oh great. A bureaucrat. "What do you know about the demon love slaves
running around town?"

He had the nerve to look offended. "Lady, what you do on your own time
is your business."

Now I really did want to switch-star the little weasel.

I ushered him inside and after a quick look down the eerily vacant hallway,
I closed the door. "We have a situation here. Does your department monitor
enslaved people? Demonic kidnappings?"

The officer looked at me like I had a screw loose. "You think we want
to get close to a demonic kidnapping?"

Of course not. They simply made me get a permit if I wanted to do anything
about it.

Officer Fuzzlebump rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're yammering
about, but Officer Reynolds with the DIP office sent me over to get the
official demon level. That's it. Kaput. Finito. I need to have my report in by
six o' clock on the dot or there won't be anybody around to read it. So what do
you say?" he asked, resting his briefcase on the floor and pulling out a
stack of powder blue documents as thick as a paperback novel. "I'll need
you to sign off on your official number. It's more than thirteen, isn't
it?"

I took a deep breath. "Try twenty-five."

His bushy brows shot up, deepening the cascade of wrinkles etched into his
forehead. "Hold up," he said, straightening back up, moving slowly
from the shock of it. "Are you talking demons—in Vegas?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "That can't be right."

"Their power is growing. I can feel it," I said, fighting off a
shudder. "One just kidnapped my uncle and drank from him, but that's not
the worst part. You know they're killing people, don't you? They're taking everything
now. What do you imagine they're going to do with all that life energy?"

He glanced at Grandma. "I don't think I want to know."

I could feel the pressure build. "Something is trying to break through
as we speak. It's time to call in the troops and deal with it. Now."

"Listen. I see plenty of this town. I drive an airport cab on the side.
I also drive a Budweiser truck."

"So?" Grandma interrupted.

The fairy bristled. "So this town is crazier than ever, but it's not
twenty-five-demons crazy."

"I didn't set the number," I said. "I'm just telling you what
you're dealing with."

"Yeah? Well what if you're wrong?" he demanded.

"What if I'm not?" I might not know how to pass some of the Dragon
Lady's tests, but I knew what I felt in my gut. So far, that had been the one
thing keeping me and everybody else alive.

His sweat-slicked forehead betrayed him. "You're scared, aren't
you?"

He wouldn't look at me. "Sign here." He handed me a stack of
unbound papers and a cheap plastic pen.

I braced the mess on my leg and filled in the official demon count on Form
233A, Form 666Z and, well, I lost track there were so many sheets and
attachments. It didn't help that the number of succubi changed halfway through.
I jerked the pen across the page. "Twenty-six," I gasped.

The portly fairy tried to clear his throat and choked instead. "Oh,
like another demon just popped up from where?"

Grandma gave a low whistle. "Where? Now that's the question. No way she
took the bus. Only way they could pop up like that is if they're coming
straight from hell."

My stomach belly flopped. I hated when she was right.

I looked Officer Fuzzlebump straight in the eye. "You have to have
somebody who deals with this," I said, because I sure couldn't handle that
many.

Officer Fuzzlebump didn't look optimistic. "We don't have anybody but
you." He scoffed at my dismay. "What? You think demon slayers grow on
trees? We didn't even know you existed until you showed up. And I hear you're
on a permit…"

I felt my face flush. "Exactly."

I'd try to make whatever difference I could, but right now that meant
getting Dimitri and Phil out of here. Not to mention Battina, Jan and the rest
of the witches. I had obligations of my own.

He rubbed his chin. "We've got a vigilante running around. A rogue
hunter. The guy's half nuts from what I hear."

"But is he a slayer?" We couldn't afford to be picky at this
point.