Angie Fox - The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers

He scowled at my defensive posture. “I’m with the Department of Intramagical Procedures. I’m the expendable guinea pig, here to see if you got off your precious demon slayer tuchis long enough to get a count of the succubi in Vegas.”

Oh great. A bureaucrat. “What do you know about the demon love slaves running around town?”

He had the nerve to look offended. “Lady, what you do on your own time is your business.”

Now I really did want to switch-star the little weasel.

I ushered him inside and after a quick look down the eerily vacant hallway, I closed the door. “We have a situation here. Does your department monitor enslaved people? Demonic kidnappings?”

The officer looked at me like I had a screw loose. “You think we want to get close to a demonic kidnapping?”

Of course not. They simply made me get a permit if I wanted to do anything about it.

Officer Fuzzlebump rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re yammering about, but Officer Reynolds with the DIP office sent me over to get the official demon level. That’s it. Kaput. Finito. I need to have my report in by six o’ clock on the dot or there won’t be anybody around to read it. So what do you say?” he asked, resting his briefcase on the floor and pulling out a stack of powder blue documents as thick as a paperback novel. “I’ll need you to sign off on your official number. It’s more than thirteen, isn’t it?”

I took a deep breath. “Try twenty-five.”

His bushy brows shot up, deepening the cascade of wrinkles etched into his forehead. “Hold up,” he said, straightening back up, moving slowly from the shock of it. “Are you talking demons—in Vegas?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “That can’t be right.”

“Their power is growing. I can feel it,” I said, fighting off a shudder. “One just kidnapped my uncle and drank from him, but that’s not the worst part. You know they’re killing people, don’t you? They’re taking everything now. What do you imagine they’re going to do with all that life energy?”

He glanced at Grandma. “I don’t think I want to know.”

I could feel the pressure build. “Something is trying to break through as we speak. It’s time to call in the troops and deal with it. Now.”

“Listen. I see plenty of this town. I drive an airport cab on the side. I also drive a Budweiser truck.”

“So?” Grandma interrupted.

The fairy bristled. “So this town is crazier than ever, but it’s not twenty-five-demons crazy.”

“I didn’t set the number,” I said. “I’m just telling you what you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah? Well what if you’re wrong?” he demanded.

“What if I’m not?” I might not know how to pass some of the Dragon Lady’s tests, but I knew what I felt in my gut. So far, that had been the one thing keeping me and everybody else alive.

His sweat-slicked forehead betrayed him. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Sign here.” He handed me a stack of unbound papers and a cheap plastic pen.

I braced the mess on my leg and filled in the official demon count on Form 233A, Form 666Z and, well, I lost track there were so many sheets and attachments. It didn’t help that the number of succubi changed halfway through. I jerked the pen across the page. “Twenty-six,” I gasped.

The portly fairy tried to clear his throat and choked instead. “Oh, like another demon just popped up from where?”

Grandma gave a low whistle. “Where? Now that’s the question. No way she took the bus. Only way they could pop up like that is if they’re coming straight from hell.”

My stomach belly flopped. I hated when she was right.

I looked Officer Fuzzlebump straight in the eye. “You have to have somebody who deals with this,” I said, because I sure couldn’t handle that many.

Officer Fuzzlebump didn’t look optimistic. “We don’t have anybody but you.” He scoffed at my dismay. “What? You think demon slayers grow on trees? We didn’t even know you existed until you showed up. And I hear you’re on a permit…”

I felt my face flush. “Exactly.”

I’d try to make whatever difference I could, but right now that meant getting Dimitri and Phil out of here. Not to mention Battina, Jan and the rest of the witches. I had obligations of my own.

He rubbed his chin. “We’ve got a vigilante running around. A rogue hunter. The guy’s half nuts from what I hear.”

“But is he a slayer?” We couldn’t afford to be picky at this point.

Grandma cleared her throat. “Hunters are a different breed. Right, Sid?”

The DIP officer nodded.

“I’ve heard of them,” Grandma continued, “but I never saw one before. I say keep your distance.”

Sid scoured a hand over his forehead, visibly shaken. “The lady’s right. This one’s dangerous and unlicensed. Ly wants to shoot him, but so far, nobody can catch him.”

Dangerous or not, I couldn’t help wondering whether this “hunter” could help me with Phil. As far as I could tell, if he was hunting succubi, he was on our side—and doing more than the official magical establishment. He might even be able to tell me more about Serena. I had a feeling she was special.

“How would I find him?” I asked.

The fairy cocked an eyebrow at me.

“What’s it matter to you? You’ve got your number.”

He shot me the stink eye. “Suit yourself. His name is Max Devereux, a real dandy boy. He hangs out at the Pure nightclub in Caesar’s Palace. You’ll know him when you see him.”

I nodded, hoping he was right.

Officer Fuzzlebump zipped his briefcase. “All right,” he said, backing out of the door. “I’m out of here.” He paused, like he was thinking twice about what he was about to say. “Just so you know, I’ll keep an eye out on my cab run tonight.”

He shrugged, stuffing his badge into his pocket. “Six was okay. Thirteen we could handle. But twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six,” I corrected. “The Department of Intramagical Procedures needs to address this.”

He gave me a look that suggested it was my fault before he turned and splashed down the hall, scattering schools of fish as he went.

“What are you going to do?” I called after him.

Officer Fuzzlebump cursed under his breath. “You’re asking the wrong person, demon slayer,” he called back to me. “What are you going to do?”

I couldn’t believe it. Grandma decided to sleep on the issue. Sleep! As if I could even sit still. I refused to think there was nothing we could do about it tonight.

The Red Skulls poured themselves into their rooms shortly before midnight. They’d had the nerve to go gambling and, from the smell of it, drinking again. On the upside, Ant Eater and the gang had trailed a flying griffin for thirty miles down Highway 95. That had to drive Dimitri nuts. On the down side, they lost him somewhere.

He’d told the Red Skulls he had pressing business. “Business?” I asked Pirate for the third time in less than a minute. “What business?”