Angie Fox - ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

Pirate wriggled in my arms. “Oh lookie there. Bacon! I couldn’t eat any before. I didn’t have any appetite before, but now I think I’m over it.”

I stroked the wiry fur on his head. “Later, Pirate. Right now, we have to find Grandma.”

“Oh now, Lizzie,” he began reluctantly. “She never liked me much and besides I don’t think you need to be hearing about the deal them witches made with those werewolves. You won’t be in the mood for no bacon after that.”

Deal? What deal?

“Pirate,” Frieda growled.

“All I’m saying is if Lizzie’s the one who’s got to schlep everywhere, getting rid of those black souls for a bunch of smelly werewolves, then she should at least get some breakfast first.”

Black souls? Pirate was right. My stomach had begun churning enough at that point to make breakfast impossible. I glanced back at Dimitri, hoping this deal wasn’t another one of his tricks. From the murder in his eyes, I guessed not.

“Frieda, care to enlighten me?” I was suddenly feeling quite murderous myself.

Frieda cast a worried glance over her shoulder. “Come on back, honey. I think Ant Eater would like to have a word with you.”

“Oh, well if Ant Eater is behind it, I’m sure I’ll love it.” The last time I’d seen Ant Eater, she’d been holding me by the throat. It made sense she’d want to throw me to the werewolves. Grandma would straighten this out. She had to. It worried me that I hadn’t seen her yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lizzie .

As we weaved through the tables, I could feel the eyes of the werewolves on us. One in particular struck me hard. He stood with his back to the wall and a rifle on his shoulder. I did a double take. He was built lean and menacing, like a bad-boy drummer in a rock band. Tattoos wound up his arms and neck, past the blond hair that hung in over-stylized hunks almost all the way down to his shoulders. The only thing that gave away his species was the way he sniffed the air. That and he seemed more than comfortable in the middle of a Shoney’s full of werewolves.

Dimitri, walking behind me, touched me on the arm, his fingertips almost brushing the edge of the armor that curved around my side. “That’s Rex,” he said, giving me a light squeeze. “Stay away from him.”

I could feel Rex’s eyes on us. He reminded me of a predator, watching, waiting to discover a weakness. I glanced back and picked up the pace when I saw his fierce smirk. He looked like he’d won the lottery.

The werewolves were the only ones eating. The witches stuck to the booths along the right wall, injured and shell-shocked. Sidecar Bob had set up a haphazard triage station on a few tables he’d pushed together at the end of the row of booths, out of sight yet close enough. It didn’t look like anyone was in the mood to venture far.

Frieda led me to the last booth, the one closest to the restrooms. Dimitri walked behind me, as if I wanted him around after what he’d pulled. Maybe Ant Eater would do me a favor and pound him into next Tuesday.

“What happened back there, Frieda? It was Vald, wasn’t it?”

She wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. “Oh honey, let’s hold off for now, okay?”

Hold off? What could possibly be more important? “Do you think he’ll try to follow us here?” I asked. “And where is here?”

Frieda shook her head as we passed two booths of witches. I saw the tall, red-haired one, Scarlet. But no Grandma. “Come on now, hon.”

“Actually, Vald could have followed us quite easily,” Dimitri said, making sure any of the witches we passed could hear him. Nice, considering these people were probably scared out of their wits as it was.

Dimitri didn’t seem to care. “Nowhere is safe,” he said, anger and accusation seeping into his voice. “That’s why you need to be trained. And protected.”

“Okay, Mr. Agenda. Point taken.” I didn’t care if he was mad. I touched the bronze armor molded to my chest. Dimitri had gotten what he wanted.

Ant Eater wore the expression of a soldier who had just returned from battle. Her eyes were hollow, her features taut. She pounded a skinny red coffee stirrer against the restaurant table with the rat, tat, tat of a machine gun. Green soot dusted her curly gray hair.

I slid into the booth across from her, wanting her to speak, but wary all the same. I knew it would be bad news.

And I was right.

“Your grandma has been taken,” she said with about as much emotion as if she were telling me my car was wrecked or my condo needed a new air-conditioning system. It seemed Ant Eater was nothing if not practical.

I knew Grandma wouldn’t have left the coven until every last witch made it out, but it hurt to hear she hadn’t escaped. “What do you mean taken ? By who? And why aren’t you trying to get her back?” Grandma had been a member of the Red Skulls for decades. These people were her family. What were they doing sitting around Shoney’s?

Ant Eater slammed her hand on the table and the coffee stirrer went flying. “Don’t you even start on me, hotshot. You’re the reason we lost her.”

I willed myself to stay calm. “Pirate, why don’t you go see if Sidecar Bob needs any help.”

“Oh, but Lizzie, I missed you.” His large, black eyes pleaded with me. “And now I have you and you’re right here and I don’t want to leave you.”

“Pirate.” I hated to be stern with him, and I wanted nothing more than to hold my doggy tight, but I had a feeling this was about to get ugly. Reluctantly, Pirate obeyed.

I squared my shoulders and faced Ant Eater. From her accusation, you would have thought I’d trussed up my grandmother myself. No getting around it, though. I was supposed to be there . A wave of guilt crashed over me. They’d offered me their protection because they knew this was coming. I’d let them down. If I’d found a way to stay, I might have been able to prevent this. “I had no idea…” I began.

“Save it,” she snapped. “Vald approached like a stale wind from the north. We’re Southern witches. It’s harder for us to detect a northern presence. But your Grandma Gertie, she knew. By the time she found us, every one of us was facedown in our possum stew.” She planted her elbows on the booth table between us. “See, demons like Vald aren’t all fire and brimstone. They’re sneaky. Sure they enjoy the stark terror on your face before they steal your soul, but they’d just as soon swipe it from you when you’re not looking.”

Incredible. “Is that what he wanted? Your souls?”

“If he’d cared enough, he’d have had ’em.” She paused, no doubt enjoying the stark terror on my face. “No.” She shook her head. “He wanted you.”

“Me?” I practically stammered. I didn’t know anything. Even if I was supposed to be some almighty demon slayer.

“Don’t play stupid.” She banged her hand on the table and sent the salt and pepper shakers flying. “Vald is stronger than we thought. Our protection spell—that potion you drank—should have bound us all together. We would have known he was coming for you. You would have felt it too. We should have been able to beat him off, or at least stall him enough to escape. I don’t know what happened,” she said, eyeing me accusingly.

Oh no. Dread swelled inside of me. It was my fault. Grandma had shown me nothing but respect and honesty since I’d met her, and this is how I paid her back. If it weren’t for me, she’d be at the Red Skull bar with her friends, doing what she’d been doing for the last fifty years. Instead, I’d hopped on her bike and screwed up her life worse than she could have ever done to mine. And it happened because I was a coward, because I couldn’t accept her or her potion. I was the worst kind of hypocrite, and I really hated that. “I didn’t mean…”