Angie Fox: ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

“Listen, lady,” I said as I struggled to bring my temper down a notch. “I mean, Grandma. Listen, Grandma. Let me out of here and you can whip up whatever spell you want.”

After I remove you from my house and my life .

I searched under the sink for a weapon and came up with a toilet brush and a bottle of Purple Prairie Clover sanitizing spray.

Was I really going to shoot my own grandmother?

Yes.

“Open the door and let’s talk.”

She began to hum. It sounded like a church hymn.

“Grandma? Come on, now. Look. It’s not just that people are expecting me. He’s going to be there,” I said, as I used my thumb to pop the top off the sanitizing spray. “Hot Ryan Harmon from the gym,” I explained, as if she was supposed to know who that was. My girlfriends certainly did. “It’s taken me months of flirting on the elliptical machines to screw up the courage to ask this guy out, and you are not going to ruin it for me.” I deserved to date once in a while, didn’t I?

“Lizzie, you stay away from him. That man is a troll.”

“And you know because…” Crazy and opinionated. What a lovely combination.

I needed this shot at Ryan because—newsflash—I didn’t know many single men over the age of four. Hot Ryan Harmon was all I had going.

“Don’t take it personally, lover girl.” She pulled the door open a crack, her long gray hair swooshing as she shook her head. “Trust me.”

I whipped up my sanitizing spray and fired just as she slammed the door.

“Gak!” The air around me erupted with Purple Prairie Clover mist. I breathed in a metallic taste. The room smelled like I’d fallen headfirst into a vat of wild-flowers.

“Ten seconds!”

“Until what?” The flowery spray was going to my head. Bright spots dotted my vision. Stumbling, I smashed my already sore toe into the cabinet under the sink. “Mother Fudrucker!” I braced myself over the sink as my stay-slim rice cake and peanut butter pre-dinner rumbled up the back of my throat.

“Seven seconds!”

Maybe I’d poisoned myself. My tongue thickened, and my head felt like it was stuffed with packing peanuts. The room swirled and my legs buckled. A hot flash seared up my spine, through my limbs. I could have sworn I saw my hands melt into the faux marble countertop. Steam bubbled inside me and rose from every pore.

“You are the Exalted Demon Slayer of Dalea. Or at least you will be in four seconds. Three…!”

The place reeked of melted plastic and Purple Prairie Clover. I had to be hallucinating. Standing seemed like too much of an effort. My legs gave way and I slid down the door, my head coming to rest near a forgotten smidge of Extra Brite toothpaste on the floor. The room—no, the air itself—gleamed. The black-and-white tile practically sizzled under my body.

I felt something approach from behind. It gave off a funny clicking sound, like high heels on hardwood. And, phew, it smelled like I’d gone from a bad bonfire straight into the outhouse.

My grandma threw open the door. “Now we—”

The look of terror on Grandma’s face made me think missing the party was the least of my worries. Her eager greeting melted into a scream. I turned and immediately wished I hadn’t. I choked back a shriek while my heart did the samba.

A shrunken, razor-toothed, man, no— thing perched on the top of my toilet bowl. He existed in a swirling gray cloud that clung to his essence like a shroud. A gold ring wound through his flared nostrils until the heavy ball of it rested against rows and rows of spear-like teeth. His hide crinkled, as jagged as desert earth after a drought. It crackled as he tapped a single clawed toe against the white porcelain. Worst of all, his scarlet eyes seemed to have only one target—me.

He bowed his head and cackled low in his throat, sending a shiver straight down to my toes. Run! My mind screamed in horror. My blood pounded in my skull and my hands flopped helplessly. Run! I dug my heels into the tile and managed a pathetic half circle. Oh my God. I was going to die right here on my bathroom floor.

Grandma whipped her hand forward. “Go to hell, Xerxes!” she screamed, sending a wave of energy shrieking over my head. Her turquoise choker glowed around her neck. The air itself vibrated. Xerxes didn’t even blink. Instead, he lifted a skeletal finger and pointed it at me. I wanted to cry. Keep it together .

Grandma clasped both hands around her necklace. She began to chant, her raspy voice repeating a single word, “ Digredior. Digredior. Digredior .” Xerxes snorted and the acrid smell of sulfur seared the air.

I stared down at my own fingers, steaming on the tile. Run! Impossible. It was like my body was trapped in a thick sludge. I fought back a wave of panic. If I couldn’t escape, I had to think. I puffed the hair out of my face and focused on the geometric white tiles in front of me. Be logical .

Somewhere, there existed a reasonable explanation for what was happening. I just had to find it. Had I inhaled some of the sanitizing spray? Naturally. Yes. That could explain a lot. Please . This had to be a warped Purple Prairie Clover head trip.

“This is a hideous side effect,” I pleaded with everything I had. Life seeped back into my arms and legs. I sniffed, wiped at the sweat tickling down my face. “Monsters do not, not , not exist.” My whole body shook as I ventured a peek back at my toilet bowl.

Xerxes hissed, spittle clinging to his blackened lips. Vapor swirled through his fingers and gathered into a thick smoke. It loomed toward me, a wave of ash, boiling upon itself. Stale, dead. My heart slammed in my throat. I fought the urge to gag. This was real.

Grandma focused, heart and soul, on the beast. “ Digredior . Digredior …”

I had to get out of here. Grandma too. Whatever she was saying to that creature, it wasn’t working. And just because she was crazy enough to face him didn’t mean she deserved to die. My body ached as I inched toward the doorway. I prayed he didn’t notice. But who was I kidding? I could taste the dark mist approaching, feel his red eyes burning into my back. I had to turn. Had to look.

Xerxes’s claws clickety-clacked as he snaked down from the top of the toilet. Shock drilled through me, pinning me to the floor. Xerxes bobbed his head once, twice. One side of his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Stay, Lizzie,” he said slowly, his Greek accent punctuating each word as his dark cloud embraced me.

“How did you know my na—? Hmm.” Warmth washed over me. Oddly enough, I found myself smiling at him. This can’t be right . But darned if all my concerns didn’t seem to be—whoosh—falling away.

I stifled a giggle. Time to axe the Cheshire cat grin, if only for Grandma’s sake. She’d aged a century in five seconds flat.

Strange. I hated him. He was evil and foul and he smelled like rotten cheese.

But I liked cheese, especially with crackers.

He lowered his head and hit me with the sweetest smile. His cracked skin showed character. It molded to his sleek, muscular frame. I wanted to touch him.

My grandma said something or other.

The pupils of the demon’s eyes began to shift like a kaleidoscope. Fascinating. So that’s what he was. A demon.

I stumbled. “Would you look at that?” I didn’t even remember standing up. I found myself strutting toward him, closing the space between us. “Xerxes, I’ll bet you are just the Brad Pitt of the underworld.”

Then Xerxes did something quite rude. He shot darts out of his eyes. It’s so uncomfortable when you meet someone and five minutes later they invade your personal space. Even more frightening, the shimmery green darts headed straight for my neck. What was this guy trying to do? Chop my head off?