The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (21 page)

I exhaled. "You are dangerous," I said to them both.

Dimitri didn't move. Only the pounding pulse at his neck gave him away.

Max first. I walked up to the scowling angel of vengeance. He wasn't afraid
to die, and I certainly didn't want to be around when he turned. "I
thought I could work with you, but I can't. Get out of here. Now."

He stared at me, his face a mockery. I'd done my best to explain to him what
was happening and frankly, there was nothing else I could do.

"You won't make it without me," he said.

"It's just too much." I'd barely kept him and Dimitri from killing
each other. I didn't want to risk round two.

His red eyes blazed with fury. "Suit yourself, slayer." Max took a
backward look at the thinning ward and left us.

I wanted to exhale, but not yet.

Dimitri wrapped an arm around my shoulder and tugged me to him. "Well,
that was—"

"I'm not done," I said, turning to my lover, my protector, my
friend. "You are a danger—to yourself and to me. You're feeding them
and you don't seem to care. You might not have been able to see what could have
happened to you just now, but I did."

Forgive me, Dimitri.

I couldn't believe I was about to do this, but I didn't have a choice. I'd
asked him to leave with the witches and he'd refused. I told him the danger he
was in and he didn't listen. He'd run me out of options, save one.

My throat felt tight. "I don't think we should see each other
anymore."

Dimitri looked like I'd punched him in the stomach. He glared at me, shock
and betrayal plain on his face. "I don't believe it."

Tears welled in my eyes. Dimitri was my first real boyfriend. I was hoping
he'd be the first man to tell me he loved me. Despite the witches and the
demons and everything that had happened. But that wasn't going to
happen—not now.

He'd changed. And the only way he'd leave is if I left him.

Dimitri touched me on the back of my neck. His hands cooled my skin, even as
we felt the presence build. "Lizzie, I love you." The dark veil
lifted and for the first time since we'd gotten here, I could see his true
emotions. He stood expectantly, his feelings bare, waiting for me to accept the
amazing gift he offered.

Warmth rumbled my spine, threatening to explode. "You love me?" I
asked like a complete fool. The practical side of me knew I had to bury it,
think instead of a way to get him out of there. The soft side of me wanted to
hear it again. Nobody had ever said it to me before, except for my
preschoolers. And they said the same thing about Elmo.

Dimitri loved me.

I closed the distance between us, allowing myself a whisper of a kiss on his
roughened cheek. It took everything I had to pull away. "If you love me,
then leave."

He paused for a brief moment, searching my face. Whatever was written there,
it made him nod.

"Good-bye, Lizzie." He kissed me softly on the forehead.

Shoulders back, he strode down the hallway and out of my life.

My heart seized as I watched him go. How could this happen to us? He was the
first man to really know me, to believe in me. He was the first to tell me he
loved me. I willed myself to stand tall when I'd rather curl into a ball and
cry.

It had to be this way, no matter how much it hurt.

I touched my fingers to the ancient emerald Dimitri had given me, his
promise that he'd always be with me. I held the dead stone to my chin and let
the tears come.

I made my way to the twelfth-floor elevators as hotel workers rushed down
the cookie-cutter hallway. Several of them carried bundles wrapped in black
velvet. Weapons, I assumed from the glints of silver peeking from underneath.

Yeah, well I just hoped they brought their wards. We'd saved Max and
prevented his seventeen demons from escaping. Now if they could hold the rest
away from the hotel at least, well, I might have a minute to think.

No telling where Sid had gone after he wound back time. I wondered if it was
me calling him or if he'd stuck around because he knew his city needed his
help. Either way, I wasn't one to take a second chance lightly.

Trying to look inconspicuous in my soaked dress and switch stars, I ducked into
an empty elevator as a half dozen bellhops unloaded a massive iron urn from the
elevator next to me. I jabbed the lobby button until the heavy doors thunked
closed.

Patrons crowded the casino downstairs, gambling and drinking as more hotel
staff rushed for the magical thirteenth floor.

I spotted Pirate next to the Keno parlor eating peanuts from an abandoned
buffet plate. "Lizzie!" Pirate forgot his meal and dashed across the
pink- and green-swirled carpet.

"What are you doing?" I scanned the casino lobby. "Are the
witches here?"

"Nope," he said, snuggling into my arms. "I escaped."

I sank into a pink casino chair with him.

"So," Pirate said, "tell me about the fight. You kick some
butt?" He closed his eyes as I rubbed his head. "I tried to get up
there, but they don't make elevators with dogs in mind."

"I don't want to talk about it."

I was relieved, grateful that we'd prevented a tragedy. Yet I'd never felt
so alone. There'd be no help from the Red Skulls or Dimitri. I knew I had to
let them go, but at the same time, I didn't know what to do next. The demons
were still coming. They'd slowed, but they certainly hadn't stopped.

The dark mark burned against my palm. It had given me the power to
survive—so far—but now what? Was I here, alive, only to watch the
demons take Las Vegas?

"Aw, well that's nice," Pirate said, roaring out a wide doggie
yawn as he settled in next to me. "Let's go upstairs and get a nap."

Bless Pirate. "The thing is," I began, trying to figure out how to
explain the last twenty-four hours. I was starting to feel like Jack Bauer. The
thirteenth floor was destroyed, the demons wanted the Red Skulls and we had to
get out of here ourselves. I needed to figure out my next step, yet one thought
tugged at me.

Dimitri loved me.

On some level, I think I knew. I'd certainly craved it. But it was an
entirely different thing to have him say it. I loved him too. And it wasn't
because he was strong, loyal and all together devastating in the sack. He was
the first man who made me feel like I wanted to be more than Lizzie the
superorganized, Lizzie the good girl. True, he hadn't been himself lately. But
I had to think there might be some hope for us yet.

My gut twisted with how I'd let him down. He'd blown into Vegas, thinking he
had the power to fight off the succubi. I'd taken that away from him. I'd saved
him, but I'd also lied about it. In my defense, we'd just gotten back from the
second layer of hell, so I hadn't exactly been thinking straight. Besides, we'd
known each other for less than two weeks. I've never been the type to jump into
things. It had been too early. I wasn't sure. I didn't know how he'd feel
about' me—or the fact that he could no longer claim his pure griffin
heritage—once he'd had a chance to think.

Fear skittered through me. If we didn't play this thing right, I might never
see him again.

"No," I said. "It ends here." I launched myself off the
chair.

"Hey, now," Pirate said, slipping sideways into the spot I'd
vacated.

If it was up to me, then fine. I'd figure out how this whole thing started,
exactly why—out of all the half fairies—Serena chose Phil. I had to
think it was something more sinister than mere chance. Whatever it was, I'd use
it to fry the demons.

"We have to think," I told Pirate. "What does Phil have that
could possibly give him any power? We hadn't seen anything in his house to
indicate he was particularly magical. I tried to recall anything out of the
ordinary among the wedding brochures, shrine to my retainer and lunch receipts.
He didn't have a strong fairy heritage. What then?"

"Oh, gee, Lizzie. I don't—"

Blood rushed to my head as it hit me. It
was
about power, and then
some.

I rushed to the concierge desk. "Skeep! I need a Skeep!"

Eight Skeeps rushed straight for me. "Meko!" I called out to the
orange ball of fire. "I have an important mission for you, okay? I need
you to find someone who knows the Hoover Dam. Fast."

Meko zipped away.

Shoot. I hadn't mentioned I needed someone close by. I wasn't too eager to
stick around with everyone rushing to the emergency on thirteen. Eventually,
they were going to start looking around for survivors… or someone to
blame.

According to Grandma, Skeeps tended to be literal. I sure hoped fast meant
close, and while we were getting specific—connected. I needed to see some
things for myself and I doubted Hoover Dam officials were going to let just
anybody in. Uncle Phil worked at one of the biggest power-generating plants in
the nation.

I tossed my keys to a second Skeep. "Listen, can you send someone to
retrieve two Harleys parked at the airport, section L-8?"

"Immediately!" He and my keys disappeared with a large pop.

Twenty seconds later, Meko reappeared.

"My apologies!" he gushed. "I would have been back sooner,
but my aura tends to stick." He shook himself like a wet dog. "I have
your expert."

Son of a gun. It had taken me longer to brush the peanut crumbs off Pirate's
back. How they got there was still a mystery.

"Ezra," Meko dipped into a row of slot machines against the wall.
"We have a guest who needs you."

A ghostly head emerged from the Lucky 7-7-7 machine. He had sandy red hair
and a dusting of freckles along his nose and cheeks. "If I can have a
minute to compose myself," he said, cringing.

"Hey," I said, trying to imagine his head without the polished
slot handle sticking out of it, "you're one of the doormen, aren't
you?"

"I'm a bellhop," he corrected.

"Sure," I said, nodding. I recognized him from when Max had taken
me to see the demon prison. It had been a tough night and I'd been impressed
with how sweet the bellhop had been. He'd looked real enough to me, well,
before he'd poked his head through the slot machine.

The phantom bellhop glided out of the Lucky 7 and hovered a few inches off
the floor.

"Hiya, Ezra!" Pirate rushed in, paws out, mouth open, wet doggie
nose and tongue at the ready and ended up leaping straight through the ghost.

"You two know each other?" Impossible. I'd only met Ezra once.

The ghost's shoulders slumped.

"Oh yeah," Pirate said, winding in, around and through Ezra's
ankles. "He's been teaching me how to play Scrabble!"

I stared at my dog. "You can't spell."

"Not with that attitude." Pirate plopped his rear onto the carpet.

Fantastic. Pirate had been having people over. "Is this true?" I
asked the ghost, already knowing the answer. Pirate could make friends with a
garden gnome.

"Aw, Lizzie. Don't get him in trouble. I asked," Pirate said.
"Just like when Meko took me to Jodi Maroni's Sausage Kingdom."

"How?" What had Pirate been doing while I was away? Couldn't he
stay put like a regular dog?

"Easy," Pirate said, his tail thumping against the floor.
"He's a Skeep and I called him and he said, 'How can I serve you?' and I
said I'd give anything for a bratwurst."

Meko glowed with pride.

At least Ezra knew he'd overstepped his bounds. "I'm very sorry,"
the ghost said. "I don't normally visit guests in their rooms. I know it's
a breach of protocol. But his essence called out to me."

"Um, hum," Pirate said. "I've got one of them special
essences."

He had an essence all right. Wet dog. "We're going to discuss this
later," I said, more than a little annoyed.

The ghost glanced at my hand and visibly paled. His eyes rested on my
devil's mark.

Was he afraid of me? Okay, yeah, I'd been feeling edgy since I sent Dimitri
and the witches away, and the ghost knew he'd been out of line sneaking into my
room.

Pirate nudged a cold nose under my hand. "Dang, Lizzie."

The
6-6-6
glowed with an eerie red light. I clamped it against my
thigh, ignoring the sizzle that shot down my leg.

Ezra opened his mouth and then closed it, his body flickering.

"Don't you dare fade on me." If I had to be the problem solver for
every witch, fairy and leprechaun within a fifty-mile radius, he could at least
give me the facts. "I'm looking for an expert on Hoover Dam. Is that
you?"

Ezra ducked his head and smiled. "Yes, ma'am. I worked as an engineer
on Boulder Dam."

"Sure. Why not?" I said, trying to wrap my mind around the ghost
currently scratching the spot on Pirate's neck that made him thump his back
leg. I thought I was the only one who knew about that.

"You can call it Hoover if you like, but it'll always be Boulder Dam to
me," the ghost said.

Frankly, I didn't care what they called it. "We'll need your brains and
also somebody who knows what's going on at the dam right now."

"I'll take you to see Joe Lipswitch."

That surprised me. "You know someone who works there?"

Ezra scoffed. "Joe lives and breathes that place. Spends most of his
time in one of the old inspection tunnels off the Nevada spillway. I keep
telling him he needs to get out more, but he's a stubborn one." Ezra shook
his head sadly. "We'll have to go to him."

The realization crept over me. "Joe's dead, isn't he?"

"High scaling was dangerous work. Lots of guys got hit by falling rocks
or those forty-pound jack-hammers they had to have lowered down to them. Joe
says it happened so quick, he didn't feel a thing."

"And Joe's the best we have?" I glanced at Meko.

The orb dipped. "Ma'am, it is my job to bring you the best sources,
information, snack foods, panty hose or anything else you require. I can assist
you with restaurant reservations, tickets to the hottest shows on The Strip and
plenty of—"