Angie Fox - ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

“Hey.” I waved at the dueling duo. “Less talking. More moving.” I wiped my hands on my khakis and nodded toward the Harley, crumpled at the bottom of the ditch. I prayed we could get the hog going. It might not be pretty, but we just needed it to work.

Dimitri extracted Grandma’s hog with barely a wrinkle to show for it. In the meantime, Pirate had run off to hide. We didn’t have time for this.

“Oh, Pirate,” I yelled to the forest of trees edging the narrow, blacktop road. “I have a Peanut Pupper for you. Come on, little guy. Mmm…what about a Pupper-Mint stick?” I listened for any sign of Pirate among the chirping crickets and other sounds of the night. Traces of magic hung thick in the air. He didn’t need to be out there. This place was bad news. It creeped me out that we hadn’t seen another car or truck on this road, save the black Lexus SUV parked a little ways down the shoulder. Dimitri’s. He’d turned on his emergency flashers and was busy getting something out of the back.

“Come on, Pirate. How ’bout I throw in a Schnicker-poodle?” Heck, I’d toss in a whole bag of them. I hoped he was okay. Right when I was about to head into the trees to search for him, Pirate called to me from underneath the SUV.

“Show me the Schnicker-poodle.”

Oh geez.

“Aha. You don’t have no Schnicker-poodle. I know the whole Schnicker-poodle act. You pulled that act at the park last week. Schnicker-poodles, my ass.”

Dimitri closed the tailgate as I dashed up to him. “My dog is under there.” I bent over to look underneath the car and there was Pirate, hiding out behind the muffler.

“He’ll come out when he’s ready.” He eyed me intently. “Won’t it be easier if you don’t have to force him?”

Yes, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Dimitri. “How’s the Harley?” I asked, afraid to know.

“Too wrecked to ride.” He gestured toward Grandma, twenty yards back on the shoulder. She was alterately coaxing and kicking the mangled mess.

What else could go wrong? I sighed and focused on the man in front of me. I wasn’t one for hitching rides with strangers, but since Grandma knew him and he’d saved our butts, we’d have to trust him. For now.

“Think we can hitch a ride?” At least it would throw off our pursuers. And besides, I’d admit it, if only to myself—I had to get out of there. The place was too empty. I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms.

Dimitri seemed to sense my anxiety. “We’ll leave soon as your grandmother is ready.” His gaze flickered over my bloody arms as he opened the back door for me. “Wait here.” He returned with a white golf towel and a bottle of spring water. I braced my damp, dirty rear on the edge of the backseat and reached for the towel.

“Let me,” he said, gently easing me onto the buttery leather seat.

“You’d better not, I mean—” I said, cursing myself for rambling, but I wasn’t used to this kind of attention. It was too intimate and frankly, it made me nervous. “I’m stinky and wet and—”

“Brave. When you need to be.” He touched the cool cloth to my elbow and I winced. Every stroke of his fingers spiraled right down to my toes. I really didn’t need to be here, especially if I found myself wanting to reach out and touch him back.

Keep it together, Lizzie. He’s just trying to keep as much gunk as possible off his nice leather seats . I flinched as the water stung a particularly deep scratch. His warm palm cradled my forearm. I pushed through the pain until the only thing I could feel was the soft cloth and him holding me steady.

I had to know. “What are you?”

His eyes met mine. A rich brown, sinful as buttermilk chocolate—not green or yellow…or orange as they had been before.

He shrugged. “I am your protector. That’s the only thing that matters.”

I felt my blood run cold. It was a straight question, and I deserved a straight answer.

My whole life, all I’d asked from people was for a little honesty. I snatched the cloth from him and cringed at the stinging pain as I dabbed at my own friggin’ arm. No matter what it was, I could handle the truth better than avoidance and downright lies. One by one, they’d let me down—Cliff, Hillary, basically everyone who claimed to have my best interests at heart. And now this guy. I was sick and tired of it.

He sat back on his haunches. “Your grandmother has been less than honest with me.”

Boo flipping hoo. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it?” I pressed the cloth to a burning scrape.

Grandma was down the road, saying something to her bike. A final good-bye, perhaps. Even the best body-shop repairman would need a boatload of magic in order to put that hog to rights again.

He saw me watching her. “She hasn’t told you the whole truth.”

My stomach churned at the thought. Actually, in the short time I’d known her, Grandma had been remarkably straight with me. If I thought about it, that was probably one of the reasons I’d jumped on her hog in the first place. That and the demon in my bathroom.

Reluctance swept across Dimitri’s features before he resumed his mask of calm. “There’s something you need to know. I’d let your grandma tell you herself,” he tossed the towel over his shoulder, “but she won’t until it’s too late.”

He placed his hand on my leg, his dark eyes catching mine. “Lizzie, your grandmother is wanted for murder.”

Nothing could have prepared me for that. Shock slammed into my throat. I couldn’t see her as a killer. I just couldn’t. Not without a good reason.

“Murder?” I repeated. Impossibl e. My mind reeled, trying to deny it, knowing very well it could be true. If so, it would explain why she was on the run. “Who did she kill?” A person? A creature? I searched his face. “Is that why those things tied her up back there?”

The tiny lines around his eyes crinkled as he frowned. “No,” he said, reluctant to say more.

“What? You’re going to tell me just enough to worry the snot out of me? Stop being such a jerk and level with me.” I clenched my fists. How dare he try and drive a wedge between me and Grandma and then hold out on me. I needed answers. “Now.”

He contemplated the darkness, seeming to decide if he wanted to come clean. The muscles in his jaw clenched before he finally answered. “Facing the evil that surrounds us takes strength, focus. Your grandmother has too many of her own problems. Her energy is scattered.”

He searched my face. “You need to have a serious talk with your grandmother. Make her explain why she’s on the run. While you’re at it, ask her how she thinks she can possibly protect you.”

Doubt gnawed at me. “We did fine,” I said, not even believing it myself. “Those creatures didn’t get what they wanted.”

He shook his head. “No, they didn’t.” His eyes caught mine. “Lizzie, I’m afraid those creatures wanted you.”

Lovely.

And why, by the way, was everybody after me when I couldn’t even fight an imp without getting my butt kicked? My brain felt like it was about to explode. “So tell me. What makes you think you can possibly protect me? And why do you even want the gig? What’s in it for you?”

He opened his arms, palms raised to the sky. Mr. Innocence. My foot.

“Oh no. That act doesn’t fly. I know you have a stake, or you wouldn’t be out in BFE in the middle of the night, dragging bikes out of ditches and—miracle of miracles—you also happen to be the only man who can drive us back to civilization.” I stared at him and his mock expression of sincerity. If he told me the truth now, I might have at least a thimbleful of respect for the man. But he stood silent. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” At least I’d spotted his smoke and mirrors from the start, unlike the disaster with my adoptive parents. They let me live a lie for sixteen years.