Angie Fox - ADS 03 - A Tale of Two Demon Slayers

I only hoped the Dominos clan would see past his relationship with me and give us the help we needed. And as much as Amara could grate on me, I was glad she could go with him. If life were at all fair, he’d be with another griffin like her, someone who could help him rebuild.

Now I felt like throwing something.

In the name of target practice, I set my sights on a thick spruce with peeling bark and a knot about six feet off the ground. I aimed and fired, slicing the knot in half.

Nice.

I waited for the switch star to dislodge itself from the wood and come hurtling back to me. If only everything in life acted like switch stars.

Humming to myself, I selected another target—this time, a skinnier tree about twenty feet deep into the woods. It would take a bit more skill, not to mention finesse, to aim through the crowded forest. I zeroed in on my target and let loose.

The switch star shot through the trees and into oblivion.

Hell’s bells.

I wanted to work on that shot again. Only my switch star didn’t come back right away. I held out my hand, waiting.

They always came back.

Unease settled over me as I peered into the small forest. I wasn’t getting any demon slayer clanging in my head, but something was definitely wrong. I pulled out another star and headed into the woods.

I tramped through the underbrush until I came to the spot where the star should have hit. The tree remained unmolested, which I knew already. But where could the star have gone?

Focusing, I tried to call it back to me, like when I’d aimed it in the battle with the imps. Nothing.

I searched every tree, shrub and anthill for the next twenty yards and came up with nothing, nada, zip.

Wiping my drippy forehead with an equally sweaty arm, I contemplated my options. There was no way I could lose a switch star. It wasn’t done.

For one thing, even stepping on a dormant switch star could really hurt someone—human or animal. I didn’t want anyone slicing a foot or a hoof or a paw.

Then there was the fact that I truly did need all five stars. I’d never met any other demon slayers, but I was willing to bet nobody else charged into battle with weapons missing.

It was almost like someone had taken my switch star. But nobody else could touch it. Well, except for another demon slayer, or a handler like Dimitri.

Geez. What was I going to tell Dimitri?

Sorry about your estate and your life. Oh by the way, can you run to Wal-Mart and get me another switch star?

I dropped onto a half-rotted log. It had to be here, but it wasn’t. “As if there’s another demon slayer just walking around in the woods,” I said to the pine tree in front of me.

Ignoring the gnats buzzing around my face, I tried to think of some deep thoughts so I at least had something to show for my afternoon. When that didn’t work, I headed back to find Rachmort.

He bustled around under an old oak tree, tinkering with an odd assortment of machines. “Lizzie,” he said, a wrench in his hand, as I approached, “have you been thinking?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “What are those?”

“Ah. Inquisitive. I like that.” He stood proudly in front of something that looked like a bicycle attached to a late-1800s-style camera box, complete with a three-legged wooden easel. “This machine here measures the amount of magic pressing down on any given point. Good for diagnosing trouble with protective wards, as I hear you’ve been having.” He moved on to a gilded birdcage with all kinds of twirling spikes pointed out of it. “This is a hell-bent–creatures trap.” He pointed to a scattering of pearly white threads at the bottom. “The unicorn hair attracts the buggers. Although I hope we don’t need to use that. Do you know how hard it is to shave a unicorn?”

I shook my head. “I have my hands full here.”

And this,” he said, holding up a small, brass-handled trunk, “is my dinner.”

“We can certainly feed you.”

“No, no, no. I’m a creature of habit,” he said, patting the box. “You must allow me my indulgences.” He placed his dinner under the tree and retrieved what looked to be some kind of double-headed socket wrench. “Come.” Rachmort took the wrench to the large bolts that held the bicycle to the photo box. “Tell me about your afternoon.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m a total failure.”

He stopped his tinkering. “Tell me your definition of failure .”

“Everything I’ve done so far has been cobbled together,” I said. “Back before I was a demon slayer, things made sense. I may not have liked it all, but my life worked, my family was predictable, my job didn’t involve a mysterious dark-haired woman who may or may not be out to get me. I knew where I stood. I was good at things. I had lists and a calendar with a backup calendar and color-coded files, and I never even forgot anything, much less failed at anything.”

He barely glanced up at me. “You are so afraid to disappoint. But when have you ever truly failed?”

“You’d be surprised.” I couldn’t even hold on to my own switch stars.

“You succeeded in rescuing your grandmother from the second layer of hell. You ended a centuries-old curse on the Kallinikos family. You performed an exorcism on a werewolf. You defeated an army of succubi.” He counted on his fingers. “From what I’ve heard you’re also the only one to set Max the demon hunter on his ear.”

I grinned, and he did too.

“Truth be told, I would have liked to see that,” he admitted.

I couldn’t help but brighten. I had done quite a lot, especially when I’d been forced to head out on a wing and a prayer. “When you say it, it sounds so different. Most of the time, I don’t feel like I accomplish much.”

“Why does it matter how you feel?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have an answer. I’d never thought of it that way.

“It matters who you are. I left a pressing job in purgatory because you are important. You don’t even understand yet how vital your work is going to be to this world and everyone in it.”

I drew back. “What are you talking about?”

“You cannot achieve greatness by playing it safe. Nor does it come without sacrifice.”

“I’m not great.” Most days, I struggled just to be good. When it came to sacrifice, I wanted to wince.

You’d think after years of reining myself in, sacrifice would be easier. It wasn’t. Then again, I was beginning to realize there were events—and people—more important than me.

What would I give up to keep Dimitri happy and safe?

Would I be willing to let down those who depended on me? Would I say enough is enough, when it comes to duty? Could I have actually given up on Las Vegas a few weeks ago when Dimitri wanted to go back to Greece?

With a heavy heart, I realized I didn’t dare, not when lives and souls were at stake. I may not be the best demon slayer who ever lived, but I could and would make a difference.

“The choice is always yours, of course,” he mused. “But sometimes we must think of the greater good. Let go of our own petty wants and needs. You are being called to greatness, Lizzie. Whether you chose it or not, it is up to you to decide what to do with your gift.”

“Do you even realize what you’re saying?” I asked. I was not a kick-butt heroine. I didn’t dash into the fray, daring the demons to come and get me. I didn’t have witty comebacks for the people in my life. So far, I hadn’t even learned how to cuss. I was just a preschool teacher doing the best she could with the vat of cosmic spaghetti fate had dumped over her head.

I sat down on the grass. “I think we’re in trouble.”

“Doubt is natural, Lizzie. It is a way to grow.”