The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (25 page)

Still, I didn't relish the idea of putting them in danger again.

Dimitri smiled. "Question is, how do we find them?"

Unfortunately, I knew.

We hurried down the back stairs to my bike, hidden in the shadows. For a
moment, I let myself smile at the idea of Dimitri riding behind me for a
change. Pirate leapt up on the flat leather seat while I dug into my pocket for
our one-way ticket to the Red Skull's new hiding place.

My fingers closed around the vial of fairy dust, given to me by Sid. He said
I could use it to call him if I needed him. "Anybody know how to summon a fairy?"
I asked, watching the clear contents sparkle and churn inside the small glass
tube.

"You'll want to be careful with that," Dimitri cautioned, pulling
Pirate's harness out of the saddlebag. "Clear your mind. Use only a pinch.
Dust it over a patch of open ground and focus on Sid."

"Got it." The dust felt rough, like sand between my fingers as I
drew a mental picture of the short, balding fairy with the foul mouth.
"Now's the time, Sid." I released the dust onto the dirt at my feet.

The earth churned and swelled. I stepped back quickly, feeling the
vibrations in my toes as the small clearing buckled. Crabgrass and weeds flew
as a full-sized fairy sprouted right out of the ground. Sid. And he was pissed.

"Eyow! Argh!" He tossed off chunks of earth. "Aaak!"

If I didn't know better, I'd think he was fighting off a swarm of
bumblebees.

"Get it off!" He swatted at his arms, his back, his knees as each
emerged from the earth.

"Hey, hey!" I inched as close as I could with him waving and
flailing. "Keep it down." I hitched my thumb toward the club.
"We got a possessed singer in there."

If anything, Phil raised his voice. "I swear to God, lady." He
staggered up and out of the ground, kicking something out of a pant leg. It
flew across the pavement and pinged on the concrete behind me.

Dimitri wasn't pleased. He retrieved the object and held it up between his
thumb and pointer finger—a shard of barbed wire.

I winced.

"Open ground, Lizzie," he said as if I should have listened
better, which I should have.

"Oh, wow, I'm really sorry, Sid," I said to the fairy, who was
busy shaking another barb out of the other pant leg.

He shot me a dirty look. "Gee, thanks. Now the barbs in my underwear
don't hurt so much. Maybe next time, you can summon me over a pile of broken
glass or maybe a vat of used hypodermic needles."

"I didn't realize open ground meant—"

"Save it. What do you want?"

Dimitri towered over the fairy's squat frame. "We need you to take us
to the Red Skulls."

"Already?" Sid riffled a chink of barbed wire out of his wiry
black hair, sighed heavily and dug his cell phone from his back pocket.

"What?" I asked. "You're going to call them?"

He shot me a stink eye. "Unless you want to saddle up your dog, I need
transportation." He spoke with Gossamer Cab Dispatch and a cab pulled up
within minutes. The door swung open and out slid a pudgy, muumuu-wearing fairy
with stacked red hair and way too much blue eye shadow.

"You look like shit, Fuzzlebump." She nodded at Sid, ignoring us.

I wasn't sure how I felt about another fairy along for the ride. Luckily, I
didn't have to worry long. With a loud pop, the red-haired fairy morphed into a
firefly. Her empty dress floated to the ground as she fluttered off into the
night.

Sid wadded up the dress and stuffed it in the backseat. He looked back over
his shoulder, his round bottom holding open the cab door. "What?"

"Nothing," I muttered, heading for my bike. Dimitri, blast him,
had climbed onto the front seat of my bike. Why did men always have to drive?
But my heart softened when I saw he'd harnessed Pirate onto his chest. I had a
thing for men who wore baby carriers, especially when this one happened to hold
my dog.

"Hey, Lizzie." Pirate's legs pawed at the handlebars on my bike.
"I got taller."

Hitching my leg over the rear of the bike, I settled up against Dimitri's
firm backside. There were worse ways to travel. I slid my hands up under his
leather jacket and around the waist of his Levis. For the first time, he felt
cold. I shoved myself against him and for the first time since we'd been in
Vegas, didn't feel my energy seeping away. I didn't know what had changed, but
I knew it was bad.

Sid Fuzzlebump drove like a fairy possessed. He flew down Highway 95,
weaving in and out of traffic with otherworldly precision. Served me right for
hacking him off, although I had a feeling Sid would be no ray of sunshine in
even the best circumstances.

Dimitri took to the shoulder to stay with Sid, which made for a
teeth-rattling ride. It's like the man tried to hit every pothole and anthill.

We drove at butt-numbing speeds, veering off the highway and onto a series
of smaller roads. Finally, we ended up on a dirt path leading
to—according to the beat-up wooden sign—Rancho Verde. I'd believe
it when I saw it.

The bike lurched and jarred behind Sid's aquamarine cab. And, phew, there
was no escape from the massive dust cloud Sid's cab hurled at us. From the
slight cotton-candy taste, I'd say he'd made it as large as he could. I closed
my eyes against the grit and buried my head against Dimitri's back.

The bike jerked to a stop outside a series of rough wooden buildings.
Moonshine Bart's Old West Town lay straight ahead, dark and silent. The Critter
Corner Petting Zoo, lit with red and white holiday lights, veered off to the
right, past a wooden bridge that looked like it belonged on a playground.

I yanked off my helmet. "Are you serious, Sid?"

The fairy leaned his head out the window, "Past the petting zoo and the
Wild West restaurant."

Dimitri wrapped my hand in his. "Come on."

Pirate struggled against his doggie carrier as we jogged past clucking
chickens, the fattest pig I'd ever seen, and an armadillo. Some zoo. Off a side
path, we saw light coming from a series of low-slung wooden cabins. Horses
whinnied in a pasture behind them. Other than that, I couldn't see
much—except a certain witch barreling toward us, her flashlight bobbing
in the dark. Ant Eater. She'd tried to kick my butt on several
occasions—and nearly succeeded. That was before I drew a demon attack on
the coven. Not that it was my fault, but coolheaded logic was not one of Ant
Eater's strong suits.

"Before you say it—" I didn't have time to deal with her WWE
people skills.

She lobbed the flashlight at my head and frowned when it whistled past my
ear. "What the hell do you want?"

I swallowed down my annoyance and tried to look at the bright side. At least
she hadn't kicked me in the shins. "I need to see my grandma."

She looked at me like I'd told her I wanted to eat the woman. "Screw
you. She's busy."

Prickles ran from my marked hand up my arm. I found it easier and easier to
feel the power from the mark. Not good.

"Can you just tell Grandma we're here?" I asked, fighting the urge
to rub my hand up and down my leg.

Ant Eater planted her hands on her hips, her wide face twisting into a
sneer. "You got about ten seconds to run—not walk—
run
back to your bike or I'm spelling your skinny ass to West Texas before this
place blows up, too."

"You listen to me," I said, my finger bouncing against something
hard and fluttery. I shoved it back at Ant Eater and she jumped sideways. That
jerk had tried to sneak-spell me.

Quicker than I'd ever moved, I grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her.
"Don't." I tightened my grip. "Screw. With. The demon
slayer." I twisted her pinkie fingers, in case she hadn't quite gotten the
point.

Ant Eater groaned. "Son of a bitch," she gasped. "Your left
ball finally dropped." She flicked her head at the dirt path behind her.
"Go."

I eased up and she stepped back, shaking out her hands, her eyes lingering
on my devil's mark. "Third cabin from the right. Your grandma's brewing up
some stealth technology in the bathtub."

I nodded. The tingling had grown worse, like my entire arm had fallen
asleep. Dimitri fitted his hand into the small of my back. I could tell he
sensed something was up. Bless him for letting me handle it my way. Together,
we made our way toward the cabins.

"Another thing," Ant Eater hollered, still flexing her fingers.
"Don't touch the door frame."

Of course not.

Since I knew better than to ask questions that I really didn't want
answered, I made my way to see Grandma.

I opened the door to a third-rate hotel room decorated in contemporary biker
witch. Silver thumbtacks bit into the brown paneling on the walls, supporting
long swaths of dental floss that crisscrossed the room like party lights. The
floss sagged with the remains of a colorful quilt, butchered into long strips,
hanging in jagged rainbows, dripping, well, who knew what. The place reeked of
mildew and cherry Kool-Aid.

Covering my head, I ducked under the wilting jangle of sorcery and went to
find Grandma.

It wasn't hard. I could hear her singing a Prince song from the bathroom.

"Grandma?" I desperately hoped we weren't walking into a
Pretty
Woman
moment.

I exchanged a glance with Dimitri. His green eyes twinkled as he dodged a
low-hanging string. Leave it to Dimitri to be amused.

Not to mention my dog. "Pirate, stop dancing."

Grandma began humming the melody and I heard something else—growling.

She'd better not have summoned any creatures in there. "Grandma."
I banged on the door, leaping sideways as a scalding drip caught me right in
the forehead. "Son of a mother!"

"Lizzie!" Dimitri rushed for me, rubbing the acid away with his
bare fingers. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" I asked, trying to get a grip as the pain subsided into
a dull throb. "I'm fine," I said, when I realized he wasn't going to
stop inspecting me.

Dimitri planted a swift kiss on my forehead. "Step back." He
leaned against the old brown door, ready to force it when it flew open on its
own.

Grandma stood with a drafting pencil tucked behind her ear and a towel bar
under her arm. Chunks of drywall clung to each curved end of the bar. She'd
tied reddened quilt strips to her wrists like poor man's sweatbands and had
even fashioned a homemade necklace out of the things. "You're late,"
she said, ushering us into the tiny bathroom with peeling cowboy wallpaper and
an extra toilet bowl propped up against a 1970s yellow tub. It had to be at
least ten degrees hotter in here—and muggy. I don't know why we always
had to end up in the bathroom.

"Now where are my barriers?" Grandma muttered, digging through the
cabinet under the sink. She peered into the bottom of a pink and brown
crocheted tissue holder. "I had some dry ones…"

Pirate stuck his head under the sink with Grandma, while I worked my way
past their protruding behinds and next to my agile, yet admittedly smushed
griffin. He tried to make room for me and accidentally stepped on the furry red
tail of a fox. The animal screeched and darted behind a stained wicker trash
can.

"Argh." Grandma handed Dimitri the towel bar and went digging for
the fox. "I need the toenails of a
happy
fox, which is hard
enough because foxes hate having their toenails clipped." She bent down
and wrangled the animal into her arms. "That'a boy," she cooed,
stroking the fox. "Yes. You're all right, Zippy."

"Zippy?" Pirate tilted his head.

Grandma rubbed her fingers into the downy white fur under the fox's neck.
"Yeah, well the gal who runs this place is a little zippity-do-dah
herself. But I ain't complaining, seeing as the DIP office gave us a place to
stay while we clear out some of the gargoyles."

"Gargoyles?" I instinctively checked the high corners of the
bathroom. No gargoyles. Just lots of flaking paint.

"Well, yeah. You can keep a few to ward off the evil spirits, but the
things breed like rabbits." Grandma scratched Zippy under his chin and he
started growling again. Or, I supposed, purring. "Believe me, we're taking
our time. The longer this place is shut down, the better. You know how hard
it'd be to spot a demon in a Wild West town full of tourists?"

I shuddered to think.

Dimitri inspected the tub. "Mind telling me what you're brewing,
Gertie?" A pale red liquid filled the lower third. In it floated tree
bark, some kind of flowers and, I assumed, fox toenails. He dipped a finger
into the gunk and held it up to the light, his features clouding as he took
stock of Grandma's scowl.

"No time, Sherlock. We gotta get you protected." She tucked the
fox under her arm and hauled an old trash can full of quilt guts from under the
sink.

Dimitri frowned at her back. At least they weren't fighting.

"Mmm," Pirate scampered up on his hind legs to see inside the tub.
"Smells like strawberries and leafy bits."

Dimitri removed Pirate gently, while aiming a hard stare at Grandma.
"You'd better not be brewing up any Mind Bender spells in here. Even if
you could generate enough firepower to bend a demon, you don't have the
equipment or the proper ventilation."

"I know that." Grandma shot back. "We almost blew up
Scarlet's cabin trying. That there's an invisibility spell, so the demons can't
get an aura-lock on the coven."

She checked the medicine cabinet on the wall. "Well, I don't see any
dry barriers. Bob must've used 'em. Wanted one for every spoke on his
wheelchair." Grandma let the fox curl up on a bed of towels and motioned
for us to clear out of the bathroom. "Now hurry up or I might as well
paint a big target on your foreheads."

I touched her arm. The stress of the trip had gotten to her. She had dark
circles under her eyes and a fatigue about her that wasn't there before.
"I'm sorry for what happened at the hotel."