Angie Fox - The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers

I headed straight for Phil’s refrigerator and began scanning past the year’s worth of pizza coupons, newspaper clippings and, egad, pictures of me plastered all over the door.

“Come on, Phil,” I muttered, fingering the mess on the refrigerator and sending a couple of slot-machine magnets clattering to the floor. All we needed was a phone number, a calendar, anything to tell us where he might be.

“You never told me you wrote poetry!” Grandma hollered from the next room. I could hear her clomping around on the hardwood floor, from display to display. Phil had more mementos than my own adoptive parents. Although to be fair, my adoptive mom, Hillary, did have mounted displays of my report cards, until she’d opted to use the antique wood frames for her equestrian certificates.

“Focus,” I said, rifling through a stack of lunch receipts and pay stubs from the Hoover Dam. “I can’t believe you knew about this.”

She’d dragged me halfway across the country without all the facts. If she wanted to have me as a partner, she’d better well start treating me like one.

I stared at the decade’s worth of dance recital photos crowding the side of Phil’s fridge. My adoptive parents hadn’t even made all of those performances. He’d been there for me, even if I hadn’t realized it at the time. I just wish I knew how to save him.

My stomach dipped when I saw the jar on top of the refrigerator. Were those my baby teeth?

Couldn’t my parents even handle being the tooth fairy?

On the other hand, it explained why my friends had gotten silver dollars and I’d gotten inspirational notes and fairy beans. No wonder my adoptive mom hadn’t been pleased when I planted my fairy beans behind her Carolina jasmine arbor. But most of my wishes had come true, except the one about Luke Duke coming to my birthday party. And even as a six-year-old, I knew that was a stretch.

I blew out a breath in frustration. Nothing in this kitchen gave me the barest hint to where Phil had gone. Until I saw the St. Simmions Church calendar tacked up next to the yellow wall phone, and what was scrawled across today’s date. “Grandma, he took today and tomorrow off work at the dam.” A knot formed in my throat. “For a wedding.”

Something shattered in the next room.

No kidding.

“Where?” Grandma demanded.

I raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” This didn’t make any sense.

Grandma burst into the room and began riffling through the calendar herself.

“Do succubi even get married?” I asked.

“No,” she said, staring at the entry I’d found. “Never.” She looked at me, eyes wild. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

Grandma hurried back to the front room and I kept at it in the kitchen until there was nowhere else to look. I’d gone through the last of Phil’s junk drawers when Grandma appeared in the doorway. “Bad news, Lizzie,” she said, holding up a massive Las Vegas Wedding Guide. Post-it notes sprouted from the book.

She tossed the guide onto the kitchen counter with a thunk . “Forty-three chapels, every one marked as a possibility. We’re screwed.”

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.