The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (7 page)

So he
was
getting married.

Why?

I reached for the book. We couldn't possibly check out that many places.
Unless—"What are you doing?" She'd begun chanting quietly to
herself.

Balancing the book on my knee, I began flipping through the entries. Phil
had indeed marked everything from the Little White Wedding Chapel to Cupid's
24-Hour Drive-Thru Weddings. I stared at the pages until I found myself looking
right past them. This was bad. In fact, I had a feeling that I couldn't begin
to comprehend the awful event that could be taking place at this very moment.

If I knew what I was doing, if I were a better demon slayer, I'd be able to
handle this. As it stood, I didn't have a clue.

I heaved the book onto the counter and to reassure myself that something
good was happening in the world, pushed aside Phil's kitchen curtains. The
kitchen overlooked the backyard and sure enough, I saw lots of flying dirt and
a tail. Give him long enough, and Pirate would dig a hole to China.

Grandma clomped up behind me. "I tried to summon Phil's spectral
trail."

"What?" I had no idea what that was.

"It'd take a day to explain."

Fine. "Did it work?"

"Not that I can tell."

We headed for Uncle Phil's simple white-walled bachelor bedroom, praying for
a break, a hint, a clue as to where he might be. A mattress hunkered in the
corner under a mess of green-striped sheets. More picture frames crowded a
single dresser. But there was no trace of my uncle.

No clues.

No more rooms.

No way to find him.

I stared at the dust bunnies on the floor.

"Try to look at the positive," Grandma said.

"What's that?"

"I don't know. You're the one who's good at all the pansy-ass
shit."

I plopped down onto Phil's bed, elbows on my knees. At least we hadn't been
arrested for breaking and entering. Yet.

Grandma started rooting through the mess of pictures on Phil's dresser.
"We'll go back to the hotel and channel him."

Oh sure. Why not?

I looked at her sideways. "Channeling scares me."

"Why? Because last time I ended up in hell?"

"Bingo."

The mattress sagged as Grandma sat next to me. "It'll be okay. You'll
see. Besides, Phil is worth the risk. He's a hell of a guy."

"So if Uncle Phil's always supposed to be here for me, where is he
now?" I was getting pretty miserable pretty fast. Speaking of tough times,
"Where was he when we ran into Vald, the fifth-level demon, last
week?"

"Oh he's been living it up. When you turned thirty, his job was done."

My heart sank. I'd lost him before I even knew I'd had him. It wasn't fair.

"What'd you want?" Grandma asked. "Demon slayer powers and a
fairy godfather too?"

I didn't want anything, except to help out the guy who'd obviously put a lot
of time into looking out for me. "Uncle Phil and me, we have to have some
kind of a connection, right?"

"Nope." Grandma shook her head. "He's free as a bird."

"And now he's in mortal danger." I scooted off the bed.
"Okay," I said, pacing the small room. There had to be a way.
"He has to have some ties to me, right?" Or else why all the
pictures? The diaries? The shrine to my retainer? If I were him, I would have
boxed that nasty thing up the minute the clock struck midnight.

Maybe I could use that. He hadn't been able to let go completely. I had to
reach the part of him that still held on, before it was too late. I closed my
eyes and wished with all of my might that my fairy godfather would appear. I
clenched my fists until sweat pooled in my palms, I focused on my fairy godfather,
on my family, on my need to see him
right now
. It had to work.

My bangs fluttered as the air around me hissed.

Grandma chanted off to my left, "
Vis fero tuli latum, vis fero tuli
latum
," deep and hard. Whatever she was conjuring, she'd better belt
it out with everything she had. We were in a battle for Phil's life and I
refused to let him down.

Come on, Phil.

I focused, pushed, reached out to the guardian I'd never even met. Hope
bubbled through me as I clung to the thought of the one family member who could
be there, who was there for me.

Let me see you, Uncle Phil. Come back. Just this once.

Ffffzz-bit!

I jumped two feet as Phil the fairy landed in front of me in a puff of
silver sparkles. At least, I hoped it was Phil. Through the haze of glitter, he
reminded me of Andy Rooney, from his bushy eyebrows to his red nose to the way
his pointy ears looked like they'd been crammed on as an afterthought. He
caught his balance and straightened his sugar-white tux over his round stomach.
In his other hand, he held two rings, looped around his pointer finger, as well
as a cup from Taco Bell.

"What the… ?" He stared at the cup before setting it on a
mud-brown dresser. "Must have grabbed on to it when I felt myself
going," he muttered to himself. "Never felt anything like it. Helluva
tickle."

"Uncle Phil?" I struggled to see him through the glistening embers
surrounding him. "Oh my God." Recognition slammed into me. "You
were the one who pulled me out of Lake Newman when I was eight." Goose
bumps skittered up my arms. It was him. I'd been reliving that moment in my
nightmares for the last twenty years. I'd almost drowned.

"Lizzie!" His face lit up when he saw me. He batted his way through
a cloud of fairy dust and pulled me into a soft, smothering hug that smelled
like cinnamon buns. "At last! How's my girl?" He chuckled, his laugh
almost musical, as he took me in like a proud great uncle. "You're even
prettier than I remember."

Grandma sniffed. "What? From last month? I hate to interrupt the
lovefest, but we have to get out of here," she said, sneaking a glance out
the front window.

"Actually"—Phil captured me in a one-armed
hug—"we'd better fetch my fiancee. Serena's going to be sopping
mad."

Just what we needed—an enraged she-demon.

"Get on over here." Phil dragged Grandma over for a hug,
sprinkling her in fairy dust. "You're both invited to the wedding."

Grandma wiped the glitter from the tip of her nose. For a second, I thought
she was going to punch her half brother in the gut. "Over my dead
body."

A puzzled expression crossed his features.

"Come with us," I said. He'd been mind warped by a she-demon, a
succubus. From what I'd seen in the 1936 guide, his brain would be like a scratched-up
CD, mostly intact but skipping over key parts. It should be fixable—if we
could get him out of here.

"We'll explain everything," I said, dragging him away from
Grandma. He was going to be okay. I hoped. "Can your fiancee track
you?"

"Well, she has my cell phone number," Phil said, confused.

"Where is she?" Grandma asked.

Phil drew his brows together. "Right where I left her. At the Love
Eternal drive-through wedding chapel." Phil's eyes widened. "Holy
smokes! I left her at the altar!"

Grandma scowled. "She'll get over it."

"I hope so." He clasped the wedding rings tight. "She has an
awful temper."

"About that," I said, trying to broach the subject of she-devils.

"No time," Grandma said, shoving him out the door. I hauled Phil
out back to find my rescue dog while Grandma searched for her wandering Mind
Wipers. Before we could get too far, I felt the sudden, intense, insane urge to
run back into the house and see exactly what was shimmering along the
baseboards. I could almost taste the evil.

"Grandma," I called, hustling Phil and Pirate down the driveway.
"We have to get out of here. Now."

Excerpt from
The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers:

Some things in life you just take for granted. They might not make
complete sense, but life feels better when you believe them. Case in point: I
never understood why a lot of hotels don't have a thirteenth floor. It's the
twenty-first century. Surely we're not that superstitious anymore. Well, we're
not. It turns out most every hotel does have a thirteenth floor
—
it's
the way they keep the magical folk away from everyone else. And that can be a
very, very good idea
.

"Move, move, move!" I grabbed Phil by the belt loop of his white
tuxedo as he tried to sniff the hibiscus along the circular drive of the
Paradise Hotel. As far as I was concerned, it had taken too long to get Phil
off the back of Grandma's bike. The sooner we got him inside, the better.

Wrought-iron railings lined the front entrance and the balconies of the art
deco building. According to Grandma, this was one of the oldest hotels on The
Strip. It also boasted a magical floor, not that I'd ever seen one of those. I
hoped Dimitri and the Red Skulls would be waiting for us there.

As curious as I was to see the hexed thirteenth floor of the Paradise, if we
were lucky enough to find our friends in the lobby, I'd be even happier to skip
out of town.

Pirate nosed the inside of my arm. "You mind letting me down?" he
asked, still dangling from the biker dog carrier strapped to my chest. "A
dog feels better when he's on all fours."

"Hold on, bub," I told him as I took Phil's elbow and squeezed the
three of us into the same partition of the hotel's revolving door.

Pirate licked Phil's hand. "Mmm, you taste like pancake syrup. Oh, shoot.
You just gave me a craving for the Shoney's breakfast bar."

Phil rubbed his sausagelike fingers over Pirate's head in a smushy pet.
"I knew a fairy once who tasted like buttercream frosting."

We made our way past the curtain-draped lobby and into the heart of the
Paradise. It reminded me of a tropical explosion.

"Pretty!" Pirate said, with the same awe he reserved for the Three
Dog Bakery.

Bold floral wallpaper competed with gold lame accents and a barrage of
bright lights from the overhead signs cramming the walkways. Feathers sprouted
from oversized vases and sky blue velvet curtains framed the entrance to a
loud, clanging casino that instantly swallowed us whole.

I doubted the biker witches would come back without Dimitri. "You see
them?" I asked, scanning the lobby. Luckily, the Red Skulls would be hard
to miss.

"No," Grandma said, checking her cell phone. "No word from
them, either." She shoved the phone into her back pocket. "Okay.
We'll hole up on the thirteenth floor."

Pirate ran his nose along the inside of my arm. "Well as long as we're
waiting, I think I might have a snack."

"When we get upstairs," I told him. Heck, I'd even pay minibar
prices to get out of this lobby. Danger tickled at the back of my brain. I
focused hard on the room around me, opening my demon slayer powers as much as I
could. This place made it difficult to instantly spot something odd.

A slight tingling in the air stopped me. Grandma felt it too. I reached for
the emerald that had—thankfully—morphed back around my neck.
Of
all the times for Dimitri to go off on his own
…

Grandma saw my worry. "Dimitri's a big boy, Lizzie. He can handle
himself."

"Yeah, well right now, he's screwing everything up."

I didn't want him in town if he was susceptible to the she-demons. I didn't
want him trying to risk himself for me or for Phil or for anybody, and I really
didn't appreciate him running off like he did. We'd be able to hit the road now
if we knew how to find him—or the Red Skulls for that matter. As it
stood, we were stuck in a hostile city with twenty-five succubi, not to mention
an angry demon fiancee on our trail.

Pirate's tail thumped against my stomach. This probably wasn't the best time
to have him attached to me. I unhooked him, and he belly flopped straight into
Phil's arms. So much for doggie devotion.

I brought a hand down to my switch stars. The last time I'd faced a member
of Satan's unholy army, he nearly killed me. And that was just one demon.
Twenty-five would require serious backup. I had nothing but a geriatric biker
witch, a disloyal dog and a fairy godfather who smelled like a Cinnabon store.

"Let's get out of here." Grandma beat a path for a row of slot
machines decked out to look like rejects from a gypsy caravan. She stopped in
front of a particularly gaudy machine, shellacked with glittering purple paint.
Play Forever. Stay Forever
, the sign on top beckoned.

Oh please. I realized we were in Vegas, but nervous energy or not, Grandma
should've known we didn't have time for this. I was about to enlighten her when
my demon slayer instincts jolted me again.

I glanced around the casino. A huddle of fifty-somethings eyeballed the
latest turn of a roulette wheel, while dealers wearing pink bow ties flipped
crisp playing cards onto blackjack tables. Slot machine patrons, like lone
rangers, manned their stations. I felt uneasy, like I should be seeing
something I wasn't.

Whatever this was, it didn't want to kill us, at least not right now. But it
felt altogether wrong at the same time.

Grandma lined her hand up with the bejeweled gypsy hand on top of a crystal
ball. The slot machine clanged to life, clanking and spinning until its picture
wheels rested on two moonstone rings and a black cat.

It spit out two topaz blue cards. The hotel's key cards, I realized, as
Grandma handed me one.

"Son of a gun," I said as she shoved the other card into her back
pocket. Another good thing to add to
The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers
—how
to check into your basic magical hotel. I didn't understand how anyone could be
expected to just know this sort of thing.

"At least while we're waiting, we'll have time to work on Phil,"
Grandma said.

"What do you mean? Unplug him from the she-demon?"