Angie Fox: ADS 01 - The Accidental Demon Slayer

For my parents, Ted and Marie Fox,

who pretended not to notice the flashlight

I kept under my bed for when I had

to read just one more chapter .

THE MORNING AFTER

I woke to find Dimitri stroking my arm and sunlight creeping through the light-blocking curtains we’d failed to close the night before. Who knew love with Dimitri would be as exhausting as, say, battling a power-hungry werewolf or blasting a few dozen black souls? I snuggled closer, wishing we could spend the day in bed, knowing it was time to meet the Red Skull witches and make our final stand against the demon Vald.

I played with the dark, springy hairs on his chest. “You don’t have to go with me.”

“Yes, I do.”

I lifted my head to find him gazing intently at me. He flashed a cocky grin that made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

What do you say to a guy who’d go to hell and back, just to be with you?

I wrapped my arms around him. “Kiss me.”

When I opened the door to greet my grandmother for the very first time, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I know I hadn’t envisioned an apple-shaped woman in a Kiss My Asphalt T-shirt, with wind-burned cheeks and a sagging tattoo of a phoenix on her arm. But what I really didn’t bargain for was a brief hug, followed by a forceful shove that had me landing firmly on my butt on the cold, black-and-white checked floor of my hall bathroom.

“Let me out of here!” I twisted the bathroom doorknob until I wrenched my wrist. How the frig did this happen? One minute I was answering my door, and the next I had landed booty over tea kettle on tile that was about two weeks overdue for a good scrubbing.

“Buck up, sugar cake.” My grandma’s chunky silver rings clinked against the other side of the door, and her gravelly voice sounded like she’d spent the last century breathing semitruck exhaust. “This is for your own good.”

My own good? In what world could she know what was good for me? I’d never even heard from my mom’s mom until she’d called me the day before. The next thing I knew, she was flying to Atlanta to meet me. I had assumed that meant air travel, not the hot pink Harley parked in my driveway.

I kicked the door with all my strength. “Ouchie!” I hollered as pain seared my foot. Dang it all. Three years teaching at Happy Hands Preschool and I couldn’t even cuss right. I limped in circles, the pointed toe of my simple black heel curled up like an elf shoe.

Why tonight, of all nights, did this have to happen?

Grandma chuckled. “Why, Lizzie Brown—kickin’ and a hollerin’. Thank heaven my grandbaby has spunk. I know you’re hacked to Hades, princess. But trust me. If I let you out now, you’d wreck all your pretty furniture.”

She’d obviously cracked her head on the pavement one too many times. As for ruining my Pottery Barn knockoff furniture, my pathetic excuse for a watchdog would take care of that. Pirate, my Jack Russell terrier, tended to piddle at the first sign of trouble. I pounded against the door until my hands throbbed. Of all the dumb things to do, I had to let a stranger into my house.

Was I that desperate for affection?

Probably. My adoptive parents, Cliff and Hillary, meant well. But they weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy. They didn’t even like to touch each other. So, sue me, it felt good—even if it was a little forced—when my biological grandmother hugged me for the first time.

“ Levitis cadre. Familio, madre ,” she chanted like a deranged monk.

“Cut it out! Today is my thirtieth birthday, and I’m going to be late for my party if you don’t open this door. Now!” Let’s face it. I couldn’t go out much on my salary. Happy Hands Preschool wasn’t exactly raking in the big bucks. And the one night out of the year where I could count on all of my friends to be dateless and available, this geriatric biker had to take me prisoner.

She rapped her knuckles on her side of the door. As if I were going anywhere. “Lizzie dear? You have ridden a bike before?” she asked, as if I’d taken Hog 101 in high school.

Had she seen my cream-on-white front room? “Yeah, um. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m more of an indoor girl.” Not that I was against motorcycles, in theory. But if Grandma thought I was going to hoist my rear end up on the back of her hog, a pothole had knocked something loose in her head.

“Well, Lizzie, the thing is…” She paused to find the right words to say whatever it was I was sure I didn’t want to hear. She cleared her throat. “Our coven’s on the run.”

Oh lordy. “You think you’re a witch?”

“Am a witch, darlin’. So was your mother. And if I wasn’t such a damned good witch, all hell wouldn’t be after us. I don’t have time to spell it out for you right now, but let me ask: You own any leather chaps?”

Yeah, hanging right next to my white capri pants. “No!”

“Well, that bites,” she said. “Life on the road can chafe your thighs.”

I gulped. She’d better not even think of kidnapping me. That was it. “Pirate! Watchdog! Attack!” He didn’t even have the courage to whimper. Useless beast. Last time I was buying him Silky Bones Pet-sicles.

“Less than one minute to go, by my watch. You were born at precisely 6:43 P.M.” She rubbed at the other side of the door like she was comforting a spastic kitten in a crate. “I found you just in time.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.” If I could get her to open the door, I could bolt past her and be free faster than I could say whack job. Our reservations were at 7:30. If she let me out now, I could lock her out of my house, out of my life and, of course, make a mad dash to my flipping birthday party. I rubbed my temples. Oh, to be less desperate for a night of fruity drinks and debauchery.

We were supposed to be heading to Fire, one of Atlanta’s newest bistros. I’d slipped into my sapphire party dress and twisted my inky hair into a stylish updo for the occasion. Now I could just feel curls escaping.

“Times like these I wish my hog watch had a second hand.” Grandma snorted. “And hey—” She rapped on the door, clanking her rings. “Try to stay clear of anything flammable.”

The woman was delusional. And I still couldn’t figure out how she’d locked the door from the outside.

“A few of these little beauties…” she said to the sound of jars being unscrewed. “You know, I would have been in your life sooner, but we lost track of you. Never would have recognized you in that Audrey Hepburn–looking getup.”

Audrey Hepburn my rear. I bought this dress on clearance last week at Ann Taylor. And what was I doing even listening to fashion advice from a senior citizen in rhinestone-studded skinny jeans? “Why me? Why now?”

“My spell only allowed me to locate you when your power had grown strong enough.”

Spell? I groaned under my breath. This is exactly why I hadn’t searched out my birth parents. Somehow, I knew my biological family would be a bunch of nut jobs.

And was that incense I smelled?

The pungent aroma of ginger and clove seeped under the door. Oh, no, no, no. “You’d better not be lighting things on fire out there!” Decision made . I mustered a few calming yoga breaths and tried to stuff my hair back into its polished updo. The further I got away from this branch of my family tree, the better.