Angie Fox - The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers

Grandma handed me a lighter, a stubby red candle and the guppy jar.

Frieda scooched up next to me, her platform sandals crunching across the rocky soil. She whipped off her protection bracelet. “Deep breaths, sugar” she said, her lucky dice earrings jangling as she rubbed circles on my back. “Those fish die and you get the hell out of there.”

“Hands off,” Ant Eater growled from behind.

“Ease up.” Frieda rubbed faster. “Her circle’s open.”

“What’s that you said?” Ant Eater bent and lit the last candle. The air grew heavy around me as the last wick sputtered to life. And suddenly, I felt very alone.

A dribble of sweat ran down my back. I lit my candle and glanced back one more time at Dimitri, standing bare-chested outside the circle of witches. He looked exhausted but happy. Poor guy had given me the shirt off his back. When he caught my eye and winked, I couldn’t help but smile.

You can do this, Lizzie.

I’d do it for him and for all of them. With that, I ducked inside the Cave of Visions.

My sweat gelled the second I stepped inside. The interior of the wagon was freezing cold, pitch black and smelled like canvas and dirt. I placed the candle in the center of the narrow space, with the fish right next to it. Breathe. I assembled myself into a Sukasana yoga pose on the floor in front of the gnarly-looking goat skull because, well, it seemed like the thing to do.

Sacrifice yourself . I had to believe I was doing the right thing, or I would have been tempted to sprint out of that wagon and never come back. The hexed fish swam circles in their jar, the dead one bobbing against the side. My ankles warmed where they crossed. The rest of me shivered.

You can do this, I reminded myself.

I had to do this.

I could feel Dimitri outside. He’d woven a protective spell, like a soft wind. He’d infused it with strength, purity and wisdom. Anyone else might have also tried to mess with my free will. Dimitri, curse him, was too noble for that.

The Red Skulls chanted outside, the words washing over me as I watched the yellow flame of the candle. It danced on the blackened wick and, with a start, I realized we’d used this same candle to summon Serena at the Paradise. Scratches marred the surface from the day we’d lost Phil.

I focused on my fairy godfather, thought about the way he’d taken care of me when I didn’t have anybody. And how it was my turn to take care of him now.

In my mind’s eye, I saw him. The mark on my hand tingled. My breath roughened, each exhale a cloud in the rapidly freezing air. My fingers clenched.

I was Phil.

Scared. In love. And insanely jealous.

Serena doesn’t want me anymore. She only married me in order to control me. And as soon as I deliver the blackout, she’ll take what she wanted and get rid of me.

Shock threw me out of my vision. I found myself standing in the narrow space. My heart slammed in my throat. Serena wanted to take something? I thought she wanted to open up the portal. I couldn’t afford to be wrong about this.

Focus . I steadied myself in front of the flame, forced myself to sit back down, resume my yoga pose. Two of the fish floated, dead.

Holy Hades.

I closed my eyes, pulled closer. I willed my mind to calm, my breathing to grow even. I wound my mind through the space like swimming through cold, dark water. The mark on my hand burned, and I used it to draw power.

Max stood in the rotting prison under the desert. The iron doors shook and bent. They were getting stronger. His seventeen demons were breaking out.

I caught my breath as a blackened demon writhed out from between the cracks in the door. I lurched for the hunter. Max stabbed the screaming, heaving succubus with a switch star and shoved her into a pile of writhing demons. Black blood caked his golden hair in a halo of death and red blood ran from deep cuts in his face.

“Get out, Max!” No way he could handle the demons behind those doors, or the bloodied ones behind him, once they regained their strength.

“Doesn’t work that way,” he said, squinting, his breath coming hard. “Think, Lizzie. Your Cave of Visions is set up for revelations, not painful truths. So you’d better figure this out soon.”

“They know the end is near.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he muttered, dragging a stunned, hissing demon into an iron holding cell.

“I found the portal,” I said in a rush. “They’re using Ricardo Zarro and sex to drive it open enough to get six hundred and sixty-six through. We can’t stop the concert. It’ll be swarming with succubi. I’ll bet they’ve got the dam guarded too.”

Max shot me a look. “Figure it out. You know you’re the only one who can stop this now.” The iron doors around him shook and groaned.

The truth cut me like a thousand switch stars.

Max’s eyes blazed. “It’ll be the highway to hell. You don’t want to know what’s in the deeper layers. I don’t, either. It’ll make what I’m dealing with here look like Cirque du Soleil. It’ll be a massacre.”

And, I realized with a start, the dark mark wanted it.

“Lizzie,” Max said, his image fading from my mind, “your last fish is dead.”

My mind hurtled back to the Cave of Visions, where I sat crosslegged with a smashed pickle jar in my hand. The fish lay lifeless on the wooden floor of the wagon. I’d dropped the jar.

And nothing happened.

Joy and relief welled up inside me. I didn’t need Grandma or the witches’ spells. I was the only one who could stop the demons tomorrow night. I alone could save Phil, free Dimitri, destroy the portal, end this thing for good.

Sacrifice yourself.

Power shot through me, my body aching with the pleasure of it. The demons could try to darken the U.S., summon sexual power from the masses, eat my lover. But I could take out their entire operation. I could crush Serena.

No mistake, I could feel her, out there, waiting. A smile curled on my lips. I never had to worry about finding my power again. I had it all if I wanted it.

Strength coursed through me, surged from the dark mark into every cell of my body. I needed it like I needed my next breath. This was my secret weapon to defeat the demons. I reached out with my mind, saw Serena as she really was—a blackened shell of a creature, a living locust. I nudged her with my power, and she turned, bewildered. She couldn’t even see me coming. I shoved her again, laughing at the irony of it. She could be mine. I could take her. And then, I realized, I’d have to give something back to the dark mark. This could consume me.

Oh Sheboygan.

This wasn’t me.

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

This felt too good, too easy. Holy smokes, I wasn’t even cold anymore. I didn’t know what I’d invited in, but I did know that absolute power corrupts. There would be a price and no matter how good it felt, I couldn’t keep the strength if it harmed, well, me. Who I am.

I pulled back from her, watched as she wrapped her arms around herself and searched for me. She stood in a narrow art deco hallway right below the control room of the Hoover Dam, where Phil worked to cripple the turbines. I had the information I needed now. So why couldn’t I let go?

My fingernails bit into my palms as I resisted the urge to shove her once more.

This mark was wrong. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. I was strong enough on my own.

Sacrifice yourself.

I didn’t need to sacrifice who I was. I needed to let go of the temptation to be something I wasn’t.

I let go.

With a blaze of power that sent goose bumps up my arm, my hand absorbed the mark like it had never been there. I stared at my palm, amazed, unwilling to believe I’d actually gotten rid of it. I felt whole, grounded. Good gravy. I felt like myself again. Relief erupted in me, followed by the sheer joy of having my life back again. Dimitri was right. I could do this with the power I had.