Angie Fox - ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

Pirate, think of Pirate. He was my family—Grandma too. I couldn’t lose her—or myself. Not now.

Dimitri gripped my hands tighter. Once again, I was flying. A mix of feelings slammed into me. I felt his red-hot desire, his churning doubt. And deception? I couldn’t go there. Not now.

I took those feelings and swallowed them deep down inside. Then together, we pushed them up, up, as I opened my palms and let the souls rise up like fireflies, through the ceiling of the rusty trailer and out into the universe.

The sudden emptiness overwhelmed me. Worse, I knew what had almost happened. Dimitri pulled me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms as far as they would go around his broad back. I clung to him for a few long moments, terrified of what I’d come close to becoming. Those black souls wanted me, and I wanted to go with them. I’d learned how to open myself, to sacrifice myself, but I knew nothing about limits. It scared me to think about how good it felt to be with them. I felt powerful, alive.

What had JR felt? The werewolf’s breathing had steadied, but he was still horribly pale.

Dimitri checked on him while I leaned my back against the wall of the trailer and fought the urge to close my eyes. The black souls had exhausted me. No wonder JR could barely move. He’d been possessed for days. I’d held the souls for minutes and I wanted to sleep for a year.

Just then my mind pricked. I felt a strange stirring outside. When I peered out of the trailer, an army of ghosts swirled past the tombs. People, werewolves, and—holy smokes—creatures I didn’t even know the names for. “I see—”

What did I see?

Dimitri moved behind me. “They’re called mnemonics,” he said against my ear.

“Can you see them?”

“Sometimes,” he said, simply. “Your experience with death opened you to new worlds.”

They glided through the cemetery, unaware of each other, or of us.

Dimitri’s voice ground near my ear, flooding my body with warmth. “Mnemonics are memories, nothing more. Their souls have moved on.”

I leaned back against him and wrapped his arms around me. He felt solid. Good. I didn’t know what I would have done without him tonight, or any other night for that matter. He caught his breath as I nuzzled against him.

“Okay, coach,” I said, turning toward him, “how do you know so much?”

I about melted at the intensity in his dark eyes.

“I’ve spent my life looking for a slayer. You. Then I met you and—” He lowered his lips to mine and I sank into his kiss.

What started out gentle turned into a heady, powerful rush of pleasure as his mouth ravaged mine. Sweet switch stars. I needed this. I needed him. His hands moved up my sides, caressed the undersides of my breasts, and I nearly combusted.

This is what it felt like to be alive.

My whole body tightened. The man was darned lucky we were smack-dab in the middle of a werewolf cemetery or I might have lost all control. Then again, something told me he wouldn’t mind.

I pulled back and he nuzzled at my neck, sending a whole new wave of sensations barreling through me. “You do have a way of welcoming a girl back from the almost-dead.”

“Promise you’ll never do that again,” he said against my collarbone.

I kissed him on the nose, trying to hide my worry. “Promise.” I hoped. I still didn’t know how I’d lost control of the black souls. Dimitri, through his sheer goodness, had pulled me back. I held on to him, savoring his warmth. “Who were the girls I saw in your memories?”

“My twin sisters.” He lifted his head, grief written all over his face. “Taken by Vald. He wiped out my entire family.”

I couldn’t imagine his pain. “I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing words could never be enough.

Dimitri reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, velvet bag. He tipped it and slid an intricately woven hairpin into his palm. At its tip, a gold griffin snarled, its orange eyes flashing in the moonlight. “This was my sister Diana’s.”

My fingers hovered above the griffin.

“Touch it,” he said, his voice husky.

“Does it hold any kind of power?” I asked, remembering his teardrop emerald.

“For me.” He turned it over in his hands. “Take it,” he said, his fingers caressing as he wove it into my hair. “Diana would want you to have it.”

I touched the jewel in my hair.

Smiling, I pulled him back to me. The kiss was warm, demanding, almost a promise. I could save what remained of my family, try to ease Dimitri’s pain too. With his arms wrapped around me, at that moment, it seemed like there was nothing I couldn’t do.

A cold wind blasted us apart. Fang crashed down on us. He lashed at us with clawlike hands. His anguished roar tore through the trailer. With a start, I realized it wasn’t Fang. It was his spirit. He hunkered briefly over his son. With a wail, he launched up through the roof of the trailer and into the night.

I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. “Who killed Fang?” I asked, already knowing.

Dimitri scrambled out of the trailer and I followed a breath behind. The werewolves sprawled over the grass. Save one.

Rex stood over Fang’s bloody body, knife in hand. “You did.”

Rex dropped the knife and drew his shotgun, the double barrel aimed at my chest. I hurled a switch star without even thinking about it. It fired through the air like a rocket and cleaved Rex’s skull down the middle. The murderous werewolf didn’t even know what hit him.

The two halves of Rex’s head smoked as his body fell to the ground. His blood pooled in dark circles on the grass. There wasn’t much. The switch star had cauterized the wounds, leaving his head neatly sliced.

My stomach squinched. Yick. The smell of scorched flesh and hair made me want to gag. I rested my hands on my knees while I caught up with the adrenaline surging through me. I’d killed him.

I had to kill him. He would have shot us. But how I’d done it—clean through the skull—was awful. I clutched the switch star in my right hand. It had boomeranged back to me, not a drop of blood on it.

Dimitri took a deep breath, his gun cocked and ready. “We have to go.”

“Urgle.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the filet of wolf.

Dimitri checked on JR, then grabbed his backpack from the rear of the trailer.

Poor JR. How on earth were we going to take him with us? He was built like a water buffalo. His black T-shirt, wet with gore, was the only indication I’d reached my hand into his chest. The muscles and bone underneath pushed firmly against the wet cloth as he took short, deep breaths. Even asleep, he was a force to be reckoned with. I could feel the strength and power rolling off him.

I brushed the dirt from his black hair and noticed he’d begun to gray at the temples. I don’t know why I had to touch him again. Maybe I just needed to do something that didn’t involve gripping his heart in my hands.

What would JR be like when he woke up?

Dimitri threw his shoulder holster on. “Here.” He tossed me a set of keys. “Unlock him.”

I pulled my hand back. Sure, we had to take him with us, but I preferred my new friend chained. JR’s eyes clenched shut and he panted hard, like he was fighting something.

The black souls had flown the coop, but that didn’t mean JR wasn’t about to turn into a crazed werewolf.

Dimitri dumped a small arsenal out of his backpack, along with some first-aid equipment—the basic tool kit for taking someone apart or putting them back together. He glanced my way. “Sorry. I can’t guarantee he won’t turn furry. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

“I’ve had enough of rampaging werewolves for one night.”