Angie Fox -The Accidental Demon Slayer Read online

  "Oh, this is just great," she said, breathing heavily with exertion. "I told you to run, not get yourself trapped. Honestly, Lizzie."

  She could at least pretend to be grateful. "Ditch the attitude. I'm saving you," I said. Somehow. The imps cackled like psychotic weasels as they skulked closer. I rubbed Pirate, who hadn't stopped shaking since we broke through the wall.

  "Yeah?" Grandma fought to keep the razor-sharp fangs from plunging into her skin, "Well, if you're going to save me," she stopped to catch her breath, "untie the damned dog and let's get to work."

  "Right. That's what I'm talking about. On-the-job training," I said, desperate to mask my fear. I released Pirate. His wiry body slid down mine and to the ground. I had to focus, find my power. If I didn't get this right, I hated to think what could happen to us.

  Focus. Breathe. Find a way.

  They might have numbers on their side, but I'd sent Xerxes to hell and I could send the imps too.

  Pirate circled my legs as the imps stalked us from every direction. "Oh, you'd better get your ass back," he said, "you filthy looking, I don't know what you are. You do smell kind of nice. But don't you be testing me. I'll kick you into next Thursday. Don't you think I won't."

  I ignored Pirate and reached deep down inside. I was the most uptight, disciplined person I knew, and I had to use that. Whatever raw magic I possessed, what­ever had allowed me to drive Xerxes from my bath­room, I'd find it and own it. Now.

  "Water nymph at two o'clock," Grandma warned. A dripping, green fairy rose from the marsh at the edge of the lake and skimmed toward us. She might have been beautiful if she hadn't looked so desolate. She was tall, with the body of an underwear model. But her face sagged and her eyes held horrors I didn't even want to imagine. She wore a shift that—ick—looked like it had been crafted from the skin of imps. And, I gulped, she held cuffs, the same kind that bound Grandma.

  I dug my fingernails into my palms. Show no emo­tion. Instead, I focused every bit of will I possessed, felt the magic churning inside me. The center of my body hummed with energy. I could feel it right down to my fingertips. I let instinct take over and screamed the first thing that came to me. "Begone!" My own voice tore at the back of my throat as I flung my power into the clearing.

  The imps cowered, clung to the ground.

  "Begone!" I zapped them again with everything I had. This time, they stood still, studying me. The wa­ter nymph had sunk down into a puddle after my first try. Now she drew toward me, curiosity playing on her features. Oh no.

  "Solvo dimittium," Grandma hollered.

  Hope flared and died quickly. They didn't react to that either.

  "Lizzie." Grandma struggled against her chains. "You say it! Solvo dimittium."

  "Right." I nodded, resisting the urge to run, which I knew would be useless and stupid and wrong. Solvo dimittium. Solvo dimittium. Driving my power to me once again, I opened my mind, took a deep breath and bellowed, "Solvo dimittium!"

  A slight wind rippled the water nymph's hair. A curl of blue flame sizzled a circle around her water-logged hair before fizzling.

  "Shit," Grandma said.

  No kidding. "That's it?" My voice hitched as the crea­tures closed in around me. "What else should I do?"

  Pirate brushed past my leg. "You stand there and look pretty. Let me give it a whirl." Pirate stalked to­ward a scowling imp.

  "Pirate, no!" Bravery was one thing. This was some­thing else.

  Pirate thrust his tail out. "Suave dimmi-who's-it's, you bug-eyed freak of nature."

  The imp shrieked and reared back to attack. Pirate yelped as it leapt onto his back, claws digging into his fur.

  "Pirate!" That thing could kill him with one bite. It clambered up his back, heading straight for his neck.

  Rage boiled inside me, and I drop-kicked the imp like I was punting a football. Three more took its place. I booted another. Blood flowed down Pirate's back. At least one imp landed hard on my shoulders, clawing riv­ers of fire down my back. I spun, desperately trying to throw it off, when I spotted another creature circling.

  A winged beast the size of a Clydesdale descended upon us. The same breed of creature we saw at the gas station—with the head of an eagle and the body of a lion. A griffin? Tail swishing in the gathering wind, it reached for us, claws outstretched, like a hungry bird of prey.

  Pirate broke free and bit the nearest imp. I threw an imp from my shoulders straight at the pair of talons leveled at my head. Grandma screamed something or other, but it was impossible to hear her over the high-pitched yelps of the imps and the screeching calls of the griffin. The flying creature dove straight for the water nymph.

  But the nymph was fast. She disappeared into the nearest puddle as the bands on Grandma's wrists and ankles snapped and crumbled away. The imps scurried back to the shadows, save the two dead ones at my feet. "Take that!" Pirate chased the remaining imps to the edge of the clearing.

  I stood catching my breath, my back burning. The coppery scent of blood hung heavy over the clearing. I wanted to collapse with relief. Or was that fear? Just because this thing didn't kill me before didn't mean it wouldn't hurt me now. He landed a few feet from me, settling his wings around his body like a bird. He wore a single emerald ring on one of his talons, and his feathers shone in a burst of colors.

  Grandma bustled over to me. "You alright?" I nodded. "Well, then." She flexed her hands, working to get the circulation going again. "Hiya, Impetrix Heli—" She paused. "Um, Impetrix. Thanks for saving our asses. Now, with your permission," she saluted him, "we're outta here." She grabbed my arm. "Come on."

  "He's just going to let us go?" I asked, hustling be­hind her.

  "If we go quick enough."

  I fought the urge to look behind us. Good enough for me.

  We exited the clearing, and I couldn't hold back a gasp. The immense lake had disappeared as if it never existed. Grandma's bike lay twisted down a steep em­bankment off the main road. We scrambled through some mud and pulled the hog upright. Grandma wrenched the handlebars and yanked the seat.

  "Hurry," she said quietly.

  "So he's ... ?"

  'Trouble." We managed to heave it halfway up the embankment, but the bike was too mangled and heavy.

  "Is he worse than the imps?"

  Grandma groaned as she hauled the bike with ev­erything she had. I joined her, pulling until I felt my arms stretching half out of their sockets. For every inch we dragged the flipping thing, we sank two in the mud. It was no use.

  "God damn it!" Grandma shoved the bike and it fell back into the ditch, nearly taking me with it.

  I slid an extra few feet and stared down at the wreck of a bike. It was toast, and we were trapped.

  She brought a bloodied hand up to her mouth. "Yeah. In a way, he is worse than the imps."

  My nerves quivered. The air felt heavy, smoky. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Maybe my magic was finally kicking in. It was about time. "What is it, Grandma?" I asked. "More demons? Or the griffin?

  "It's not that," she said grimly. "It's him." She jabbed a mud-slicked finger at an imposing, olive-skinned man who stood like royalty at the edge of the ravine.

  I gripped her hand and felt my pulse leap. "Is he a monster?"

  "That depends," she said, giving him the evil eye.

  My blood warmed just looking at him. He was strik­ing. If you liked the GQ type. He wore a dark, tailored suit cut to fit his broad shoulders. His angled features gave away nothing as he watched us. I felt his eyes, hidden in shadows, sweep over every inch of my body. I blinked twice, studied him. Something inside me felt like I knew him.

  That was impossible, I thought with a twinge of de­sire. If I'd ever met this man before, I would have re­membered. He seemed so out of place on this swampy, dirty backwater road. Everything about him was pol­ished, except for the way his thick, ebony hair curled around his collar.

  His eyes flashed orange, then yellow. Holy Moses. I stumbled backward in the darkness as
his eyes began to glow with a positively arresting, utterly horrifying grassy hue. My body tensed, ready for a fight if it came to that.

  "Well, look who likes you, Lizzie." Grandma rubbed at her wrists where the chains had been.

  What? The automatic excitement that flared at the idea of a good-looking man finding me attractive fiz­zled under the dread that it was this emerald-eyed ... person. Why couldn't any normal guys like me? Oh wait. One of them might have. Tonight, at this very moment, I was supposed to be enjoying a Rum Swizzle with a boatload of friends as well as Hot Ryan Harmon from the gym. A birthday extravaganza with the stun­ning Mr. Harmon as the ultimate party prize. Instead, I stood here, at the bottom of a ravine, staring up at this magical enigma.

  "Good to see you're keeping your distance," Grandma said, drawing me toward her like an old girlfriend. "That man is nothing but trouble."

  No kidding. Yet another supernatural complication I could do without. "So who is he?" I asked.

  "Well, sugar beet," Grandma said, giving my hand a firm squeeze. "He's your protector."

  Chapter Four

  I gaped at him. My protector?

  Grandma straightened her shoulders. "I took you without his permission."

  I stared at her. "My protector?"

  "You're my granddaughter, for goodness sake!" She sniffed as he tossed a climbing rope down the embank­ment. "Damn that man. He's stickier than a pinecone enema."

  He'd stripped off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves away from his dark, muscled forearms. "Now we're go­ing to have to let him help us," she said, as if we'd lost a major battle. "Whatever you do, don't tell him about Xerxes. Don't go anywhere alone with him, and don't reveal too much."

  Not a problem since I didn't have a clue what was going on.

  She threw up her hand. "Stop!" she said, as he pre­pared to descend to help us. "We're fine on our own."

  "Speak for yourself," I muttered. This ditch was taller than I was. Besides, we had to get out of here before more griffins, imps or anybody else showed up. We didn't have time to see if my seventy-something grandma knew how to climb a rope.

  Grandma grabbed the line and clambered up. Her boots scratched at the embankment, sending down a shower of mud clumps, weeds and god knew what else. "Show-off," I muttered. But my heart wasn't in it. I was too focused on the sharp-featured man who didn't look at all pleased. His eyes had stopped glow­ing, so that was something. Still, I couldn't help won­dering what kind of person we were dealing with.

  My protector. I rolled the thought around in my mind. When I reached the top, he took my hand. I'd thought I was warm. He was positively toasty. I detected a trace of sandalwood cologne. His other hand was steady and strong at my back as he led me away from the edge. His very presence cut ribbons of heat down my spine. I tried my best to ignore them. Facts were facts—something brought this man here, to us, at this particular moment. I wondered what he wanted.

  "Lizzie Brown," he said, with a slight Greek accent that made my name sound almost lyrical. "Dimitri Kallinikos. It's an honor."

  "How did you find us?" demanded my grandma, before I could say a word.

  He arched a brow, deliberately unruffled by her tone. "I have my ways," he said, dropping my hand. "Al­though, as I said, I would have rather gone with you."

  Grandma cocked her head up at him. "You weren't invited."

  He leveled an icy gaze at her.

  Oh, please. The wind whipped through the trees, chilling the night. "We were fine by ourselves," I said. "Really." Was I going to have to separate these two?

  But he'd forgotten I was even there.

  "I am her protector," he insisted.

  "And I am her grandmother." She glowered at him.

  Hello? I was standing right here. But if there was one thing I learned teaching preschool, it was how to pick my battles. Let them argue. I'd figure out how to get us out of here. I scanned the sky for griffins.

  Pirate scrambled up the side of the dropoff, sending globs of dirt flying every which way. "What'd I miss?" Mud, and worse, slicked his fur.

  "Pirate, get over here." I winced when I saw the bloody gashes on his back. He danced away from me when I tried to inspect them closer. "Oh yikes." We had to get out of there.

  "Hey." I waved at the dueling duo. "Less talking. More moving." I wiped my hands on my khakis and nodded toward the Harley, crumpled at the bottom of the ditch. I prayed we could get the hog going. It might not be pretty, but we just needed it to work.

  Dimitri extracted Grandma's hog with barely a wrinkle to show for it. In the meantime, Pirate had run off to hide. We didn't have time for this.

  "Oh, Pirate," I yelled to the forest of trees edging the narrow, blacktop road. "I have a Peanut Pupper for you. Come on, little guy. Mmm ... what about a Pupper-Mint stick?" I listened for any sign of Pirate among the chirp­ing crickets and other sounds of the night. Traces of magic hung thick in the air. He didn't need to be out there. This place was bad news. It creeped me out that we hadn't seen another car or truck on this road, save the black Lexus SUV parked a little ways down the shoul­der. Dimitri's. He'd turned on his emergency flashers and was busy getting something out of the back.

  "Come on, Pirate. How 'bout I throw in a Schnicker-poodle?" Heck, I'd toss in a whole bag of them. I hoped he was okay. Right when I was about to head into the trees to search for him, Pirate called to me from underneath the SUV.

  "Show me the Schnicker-poodle."

  Oh geez.

  "Aha. You don't have no Schnicker-poodle. I know the whole Schnicker-poodle act. You pulled that act at the park last week. Schnicker-poodles, my ass."

  Dimitri closed the tailgate as I dashed up to him. "My dog is under there." I bent over to look under­neath the car and there was Pirate, hiding out behind the muffler.

  "He'll come out when he's ready." He eyed me intently. "Won't it be easier if you don't have to force him?"

  Yes, but I wasn't going to admit that to Dimitri. "How's the Harley?" I asked, afraid to know.

  'Too wrecked to ride." He gestured toward Grandma, twenty yards back on the shoulder. She was alternately coaxing and kicking the mangled mess.

  What else could go wrong? I sighed and focused on the man in front of me. I wasn't one for hitching rides with strangers, but since Grandma knew him and he'd saved our butts, we'd have to trust him. For now.

  "Think we can hitch a ride?" At least it would throw off our pursuers. And besides, I'd admit it, if only to myself—I had to get out of there. The place was too empty. I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms.

  Dimitri seemed to sense my anxiety. "We'll leave soon as your grandmother is ready." His gaze flickered over my bloody arms as he opened the back door for me. "Wait here." He returned with a white golf towel and a bottle of spring water. I braced my damp, dirty rear on the edge of the backseat and reached for the towel.

  "Let me," he said, gently easing me onto the buttery leather seat.

  "You'd better not, I mean—" I said, cursing myself for rambling, but I wasn't used to this kind of attention. It was too intimate and frankly, it made me nervous. "I'm stinky and wet and—"

  "Brave. When you need to be." He touched the cool cloth to my elbow and I winced. Every stroke of his fingers spiraled right down to my toes. I really didn't need to be here, especially if I found myself wanting to reach out and touch him back.

  Keep it together, Lizzie. He's just trying to keep as much gunk as possible off his nice leather seats. I flinched as the water stung a particularly deep scratch. His warm palm cradled my forearm. I pushed through the pain until the only thing I could feel was the soft cloth and him holding me steady.

  I had to know. "What are you?"

  His eyes met mine. A rich brown, sinful as butter­milk chocolate—not green or yellow ... or orange as they had been before.

  He shrugged. "I am your protector. That's the only thing that matters."

  I felt my blood run cold. It was a straight question, and I deserved a straight answ
er.

  My whole life, all I'd asked from people was for a lit­tle honesty. I snatched the cloth from him and cringed at the stinging pain as I dabbed at my own friggin' arm. No matter what it was, I could handle the truth better than avoidance and downright lies. One by one, they'd let me down—Cliff, Hillary, basically everyone who claimed to have my best interests at heart. And now this guy. I was sick and tired of it.

  He sat back on his haunches. "Your grandmother has been less than honest with me."

  Boo flipping hoo. "Doesn't feel very good, does it?" I pressed the cloth to a burning scrape.

  Grandma was down the road, saying something to her bike. A final good-bye, perhaps. Even the best body-shop repairman would need a boatload of magic in order to put that hog to rights again.

  He saw me watching her. "She hasn't told you the whole truth."

  My stomach churned at the thought. Actually, in the short time I'd known her, Grandma had been remark­ably straight with me. If I thought about it, that was probably one of the reasons I'd jumped on her hog in the first place. That and the demon in my bathroom.

  Reluctance swept across Dimitri's features before he resumed his mask of calm. "There's something you need to know. I'd let your grandma tell you herself," he tossed the towel over his shoulder, "but she won't until it's too late."

  He placed his hand on my leg, his dark eyes catch­ing mine. "Lizzie, your grandmother is wanted for murder."

  Nothing could have prepared me for that. Shock slammed into my throat. I couldn't see her as a killer. I just couldn't. Not without a good reason.

  "Murder?" I repeated. Impossible. My mind reeled, trying to deny it, knowing very well it could be true. If so, it would explain why she was on the run. "Who did she kill?" A person? A creature? I searched his face. "Is that why those things tied her up back there?"

  The tiny lines around his eyes crinkled as he frowned. "No," he said, reluctant to say more.

  "What? You're going to tell me just enough to worry the snot out of me? Stop being such a jerk and level with me." I clenched my fists. How dare he try and drive a wedge between me and Grandma and then hold out on me. I needed answers. "Now."