Angie Fox: ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

Yes.

No. My stomach tingled and it wasn’t because of the way his fingers trailed down my back. It had to end tonight. I’d always said I wanted to go back, be with my preschool kids, have kids of my own some day.

Dimitri would be better off too, I reminded myself, ignoring the heat pooling between my thighs. He’d spent most of his life trying to save his sisters. Now, for the first time, he could relax and think of his own future. Maybe settle down with a griffin like him. I already hated her.

He nestled his face in the curve of my bare neck. Every nerve ending zinged with the sensation. Oh my fluttering soul, what it would be like to have him again, naked again, inside me.

I had to get out of here.

I pulled at Dimitri’s emerald and to my surprise, the bronze chain unwound from my neck. We both watched the teardrop-shaped stone come to rest in my palm. It lay shadowy and thick in the moonlight.

“Here,” I said, offering it to him.

Please take it before I think about this too much .

“No,” he said, as a brief flash of worry crossed his face. “I gave that to you.”

“I just think it would be safer with you,” I said, dangling it between us.

Disappointment flickered over his features. “You’re not coming to Greece.”

“No,” I said, the stone heavy in my hand.

“Keep it,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

He captured my head in his hands and kissed me hard. Lips, teeth, tongue. He owned me, and I savored every second of it. I wanted to wrap my legs around him, feel him on top of me. He groaned and pulled me against him. Kissed me like he was never going to stop. Almost like a part of him knew we were kissing good-bye.

This is the right thing to do , I reminded myself as I stood inside the mirrored main dining room of the ship. The witches had blacked out the windows and shoved the tables to the corners of the room. We stood in a circle under a wrought iron chandelier, tipped with dozens upon dozens of gaslights.

I’d watched Dimitri climb onto his Harley as we filed into the ceremony room. It was official—he was gone. And when he got back, I wouldn’t be here. Don’t think about it . What’s done is done.

Frieda squeezed my hand as peals of laughter rang from somewhere below us. “Giggle spell,” she whispered into my ear. “Betty Two-Sticks didn’t even see it coming.”

“Shut it,” Ant Eater growled on my other side.

“I’m just saying.” Frieda’s bracelets dangled against my wrist. “That woman is slow as pond water.”

“Seal the door,” Grandma ordered as she wheeled in a squeaky, rumbly dessert cart topped with a heated chafing dish. Flames curled under the dish and something sweet boiled inside. I knew better than to get my hopes up for cherries flambé.

The witches closed their eyes. I felt the magic build. The doors to the dining room slammed shut. No one moved a muscle. The only sound in the room came from bubbles seething over the fire. The air thickened as the gaslights dimmed and cast tall shadows against the mirrors behind us.

I couldn’t help remembering the ceremony in the basement of the Red Skull. So much had changed since they’d first offered me their protection.

Grandma bowed her head and the others followed. “We, the witches of the Red Skull, are bound to the magic that has sustained our order for more than twelve hundred years. In it, we find warmth, light and eternal goodness. Without it, we perish. This night, we seek to rejoin the soul of our sister, Elizabeth. May she be one as we are one.”

Yeek. Nobody called me Elizabeth unless I was in trouble. I fought back a tangle of nerves. Let it go, Lizzie . Grandma knows what she’s doing .

Scarlet fiddled with something behind the ceremonial stew.

Beeeeeeep! A laptop screeched.

“Sorry,” Scarlet muttered.

Oh don’t tell me they were getting this spell off the Internet. My soul fluttered in my throat.

Grandma conferred with Scarlet for—not long enough in my book—before she stepped into the circle, holding a chain made from—oh geez—mangled twist ties.

Grandma Gertie was going to fuse my immortal soul with the same stuff I used to wrap bread.

I snuck a glance at Frieda. She seemed to think this made sense. Ant Eater? Riveted. Lovely. The witches observed Grandma with bated breath as she returned to the dessert cart and removed a covered dish. It smelled like chicken. But I knew better. Why couldn’t I be related to a coven that drew their magic from plants or, as long as I was dreaming here, chocolate?

Then again, this would be my last ceremony.

Grandma lifted the lid on a plate full of teeny tiny hearts. She held up the twist-tie links and popped a wee ticker into each round hole.

“From death we begin again.” She hung the grisly chain around my neck. Bet Dimitri would be glad now that I’d taken off his emerald. It felt gloopy, wet and it smelled like, well, dead animals. Syrupy excess dripped down my collarbone.

“As we join with you now, may the two halves of your soul be joined again.”

They darted back and forth inside my throat. Holy heck.

Grandma must have sensed my unease. “Relax,” she muttered. “We’re not done yet.”

I nodded and felt the gloppy necklace shift.

“Are you sure you want to give up your magic?” she asked.

This was it.

Shit.

Yes, I wanted to give up my powers. I was a teacher— and a damn good one. Not a demon slayer. I had to give this up, I told myself, my palms growing slick and sweaty against Frieda’s…and Ant Eater’s. And why did I care about Ant Eater? I didn’t even like Ant Eater.

But I loved this life.

Despite everything, I didn’t want to leave.

“Lizzie?” Grandma eyed me expectantly.

I hated sudden decisions. And until recently, I’d never been good at trusting my gut. I closed my eyes and searched hard for what I needed to do. I should give up my powers. I should pack up Pirate and head straight home. But…“I’m not going to do it.” I said. “I’m staying.”

I felt the witches exhale in a whoosh . Heck, I did the same thing myself. I couldn’t believe it. Me, in all of my over-planning, over-serious, oxford-wearing glory. I wanted to be a demon slayer. And, I thought as I squeezed my toes inside my high-flying, demon-whomping black boots, I might even ditch the oxfords for good.

“Okay!” Grandma said, grinning from ear to ear, not quite sure what to do next. “Uh, Scarlet? What’s my next line?”

Scarlet tapped a few keys on the laptop and carried the whole thing over to Grandma.

Grandma placed a hand over my throat and used the other to steady the computer as she read. “As your soul was rended in pieces may it fuse, whole again.” She caught my eye and winked. “Stronger for the wound that cut so deep. Wiser for facing the evil that caused it. Braver for having risked so much.”

Grandma released my neck and snuffed the fire under the silver chafing dish. Scarlet reached under the cart and held up a large serving platter. On it, she placed a crystal goblet with handles on the sides. I remembered that goblet from the protection ceremony. And if I was lucky, there’d be something in that pot besides mashed squirrel and bakki root.

I felt Frieda dance on her toes. “Ohhh…cherried turtles is a delicacy, you know.”

Grandma ladled the thick stew into the cup. The top of the crystal goblet clouded with steam.

This time, I’d drink.

Grandma held out the cup to the group. “As we drink, we are one.” She inhaled the vapors above the goblet and took the first sip. Frieda went next. The cup made it all around the room and stopped in front of me, with plenty of goo to spare.