Angie Fox - The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers

“Good-bye, Lizzie.” He kissed me softly on the forehead.

Shoulders back, he strode down the hallway and out of my life.

My heart seized as I watched him go. How could this happen to us? He was the first man to really know me, to believe in me. He was the first to tell me he loved me. I willed myself to stand tall when I’d rather curl into a ball and cry.

It had to be this way, no matter how much it hurt.

I touched my fingers to the ancient emerald Dimitri had given me, his promise that he’d always be with me. I held the dead stone to my chin and let the tears come.

I made my way to the twelfth-floor elevators as hotel workers rushed down the cookie-cutter hallway. Several of them carried bundles wrapped in black velvet. Weapons, I assumed from the glints of silver peeking from underneath.

Yeah, well I just hoped they brought their wards. We’d saved Max and prevented his seventeen demons from escaping. Now if they could hold the rest away from the hotel at least, well, I might have a minute to think.

No telling where Sid had gone after he wound back time. I wondered if it was me calling him or if he’d stuck around because he knew his city needed his help. Either way, I wasn’t one to take a second chance lightly.

Trying to look inconspicuous in my soaked dress and switch stars, I ducked into an empty elevator as a half dozen bellhops unloaded a massive iron urn from the elevator next to me. I jabbed the lobby button until the heavy doors thunked closed.

Patrons crowded the casino downstairs, gambling and drinking as more hotel staff rushed for the magical thirteenth floor.

I spotted Pirate next to the Keno parlor eating peanuts from an abandoned buffet plate. “Lizzie!” Pirate forgot his meal and dashed across the pink- and green-swirled carpet.

“What are you doing?” I scanned the casino lobby. “Are the witches here?”

“Nope,” he said, snuggling into my arms. “I escaped.”

I sank into a pink casino chair with him.

“So,” Pirate said, “tell me about the fight. You kick some butt?” He closed his eyes as I rubbed his head. “I tried to get up there, but they don’t make elevators with dogs in mind.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I was relieved, grateful that we’d prevented a tragedy. Yet I’d never felt so alone. There’d be no help from the Red Skulls or Dimitri. I knew I had to let them go, but at the same time, I didn’t know what to do next. The demons were still coming. They’d slowed, but they certainly hadn’t stopped.

The dark mark burned against my palm. It had given me the power to survive—so far—but now what? Was I here, alive, only to watch the demons take Las Vegas?

“Aw, well that’s nice,” Pirate said, roaring out a wide doggie yawn as he settled in next to me. “Let’s go upstairs and get a nap.”

Bless Pirate. “The thing is,” I began, trying to figure out how to explain the last twenty-four hours. I was starting to feel like Jack Bauer. The thirteenth floor was destroyed, the demons wanted the Red Skulls and we had to get out of here ourselves. I needed to figure out my next step, yet one thought tugged at me.

Dimitri loved me.

On some level, I think I knew. I’d certainly craved it. But it was an entirely different thing to have him say it. I loved him too. And it wasn’t because he was strong, loyal and all together devastating in the sack. He was the first man who made me feel like I wanted to be more than Lizzie the superorganized, Lizzie the good girl. True, he hadn’t been himself lately. But I had to think there might be some hope for us yet.

My gut twisted with how I’d let him down. He’d blown into Vegas, thinking he had the power to fight off the succubi. I’d taken that away from him. I’d saved him, but I’d also lied about it. In my defense, we’d just gotten back from the second layer of hell, so I hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. Besides, we’d known each other for less than two weeks. I’ve never been the type to jump into things. It had been too early. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know how he’d feel about’ me—or the fact that he could no longer claim his pure griffin heritage—once he’d had a chance to think.

Fear skittered through me. If we didn’t play this thing right, I might never see him again.

“No,” I said. “It ends here.” I launched myself off the chair.

“Hey, now,” Pirate said, slipping sideways into the spot I’d vacated.

If it was up to me, then fine. I’d figure out how this whole thing started, exactly why—out of all the half fairies—Serena chose Phil. I had to think it was something more sinister than mere chance. Whatever it was, I’d use it to fry the demons.

“We have to think,” I told Pirate. “What does Phil have that could possibly give him any power? We hadn’t seen anything in his house to indicate he was particularly magical. I tried to recall anything out of the ordinary among the wedding brochures, shrine to my retainer and lunch receipts. He didn’t have a strong fairy heritage. What then?”

“Oh, gee, Lizzie. I don’t—”

Blood rushed to my head as it hit me. It was about power, and then some.

I rushed to the concierge desk. “Skeep! I need a Skeep!”

Eight Skeeps rushed straight for me. “Meko!” I called out to the orange ball of fire. “I have an important mission for you, okay? I need you to find someone who knows the Hoover Dam. Fast.”

Meko zipped away.

Shoot. I hadn’t mentioned I needed someone close by. I wasn’t too eager to stick around with everyone rushing to the emergency on thirteen. Eventually, they were going to start looking around for survivors… or someone to blame.

According to Grandma, Skeeps tended to be literal. I sure hoped fast meant close, and while we were getting specific—connected. I needed to see some things for myself and I doubted Hoover Dam officials were going to let just anybody in. Uncle Phil worked at one of the biggest power-generating plants in the nation.

I tossed my keys to a second Skeep. “Listen, can you send someone to retrieve two Harleys parked at the airport, section L-8?”

“Immediately!” He and my keys disappeared with a large pop.

Twenty seconds later, Meko reappeared.

“My apologies!” he gushed. “I would have been back sooner, but my aura tends to stick.” He shook himself like a wet dog. “I have your expert.”

Son of a gun. It had taken me longer to brush the peanut crumbs off Pirate’s back. How they got there was still a mystery.

“Ezra,” Meko dipped into a row of slot machines against the wall. “We have a guest who needs you.”

A ghostly head emerged from the Lucky 7-7-7 machine. He had sandy red hair and a dusting of freckles along his nose and cheeks. “If I can have a minute to compose myself,” he said, cringing.

“Hey,” I said, trying to imagine his head without the polished slot handle sticking out of it, “you’re one of the doormen, aren’t you?”

“I’m a bellhop,” he corrected.

“Sure,” I said, nodding. I recognized him from when Max had taken me to see the demon prison. It had been a tough night and I’d been impressed with how sweet the bellhop had been. He’d looked real enough to me, well, before he’d poked his head through the slot machine.

The phantom bellhop glided out of the Lucky 7 and hovered a few inches off the floor.

“Hiya, Ezra!” Pirate rushed in, paws out, mouth open, wet doggie nose and tongue at the ready and ended up leaping straight through the ghost.

“You two know each other?” Impossible. I’d only met Ezra once.