The Accidental Demon Slayer

Chapter Thirteen

I followed Ant Eater to a rusty trailer near the woods. Werewolves jammed the entrance.
Rex stood at the door, a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Your asses are mine,” he told us, way too pleased with himself.
“Stuff it.” Grandma needed me. We didn’t have time to get sucked into werewolf politics.
“Well that was brave,” Ant Eater commented. “Stupid. But brave.”
We pushed our way into the mishmash, the air hot with bodies and alive with voices. I found myself face-to-chest with most of the werewolves. Danger rolled off them in palpable waves. Every step we took, they jostled us back, as if they couldn’t wait to take it further.
Dimitri’s emerald hummed, which wasn’t the best sign. The bronze metal of my helmet snaked down and wound around my neck. At least it earned me a little respect. The werewolves parted like I was tossing fire-crackers. The ones nearest to me caught their breath and muttered their surprise. Something told me these men, these creatures, didn’t gasp like girls every day. I drew my hand up, instinctively.
A rough-looking fellow with a nose ring winced as the metal around my neck churned and pulsed, like a liquid noose. You got it, buddy.
The metal locked into place and cooled to the touch. It felt like a metal collar, the kind gladiators wore to the arena. Please don’t let me be a gladiator, I thought as the emerald bounced against the front of my throat.
“Nice trick.” Fang stood in the center of the room, his Mr. T mohawk unmistakable. I stepped forward before Ant Eater could shove me, which no doubt she would have enjoyed, if only because it took the edge off. I could hear her behind me; rap, tap, tapping her nails against a stack of what had to be six or seven cases of Jack.
“Cut it out,” I told her. We needed to show strength right now. The Red Skull witches were safe (relatively) and alive (for now) thanks to the good graces of these werewolves. Sure, Rex had been gunning for us from the start, but for the most part, the werewolves had earned our respect, if not our trust. They’d stuck their necks out and taken us in after Vald demolished the Red Skull. From his stance in the middle of the room, it was clear Fang still held power. And now he needed to discuss something. Well, fine. But we didn’t need to look nervous about it.
No need to borrow trouble.
The Red Skulls stood behind Fang, cut off from the werewolves and from any means of escape. I caught a glimpse of Frieda near the kitchenette. Sidecar Bob was nowhere in sight—probably pushed to the back of the crowd. Not a bad place to be right now, I mused, as Rex glared a hole through me. I wondered what we did to warrant this showdown. Fang had what he wanted—my promise to get rid of the black souls. Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Heaven help us.
“Bring the wolf forward,” Fang commanded. The werewolves behind me hollered a litany of curses.
Just my luck. We’d ticked them off.
Nose Ring brushed past me, carrying a young woman. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. The girl’s wide frame and sleek muscles sagged. Her long, dark hair was tangled in knots. He placed her in front of Fang. She floundered pitifully as she tried to stand.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was drunk. She pitched sideways. Oh my word, she was going over. “Grab her!” I rushed for her and managed to catch her under the armpits.
The rest of her body fell to the floor hard, taking me with it. I whacked my tailbone, but managed to keep her head from hitting the floor. Her eyes rolled back and she gurgled. “Are you all right?” My butt throbbed. She had to be hurting too. “What’s your name?” I tried to pull her into a sitting position. She didn’t seem to notice. Her breathing was labored and shallow.
“Hold on,” I told her. “Excuse me, folks.” I looked up to the three dozen or so people who could have shown a little concern. “Can we get a little help here?”
Fang stood over us, scowling. “Fine time to worry about her now, demon slayer.”
Oh, let’s not be catty. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who cast this spell?” he thundered, speaking to me but clearly making this a group discussion. “Was it you, demon slayer? Or the devil witches?”
“Try neither.” I hoped.
Don’t piss off the werewolf, Lizzie.
He grew angrier by the second, and it didn’t help that he had about twenty friends ready and quite eager to tear us apart.
In an instant, he seized me by the throat and lifted me off the floor. I fought a wave of panic and clutched at his hands as my feet kicked at nothing but air. Unbelievable. The man could have strangled me with one large, meaty hand. Except he gripped the bronze choker at my throat. I smothered a yelp. Score one for Dimitri and his emerald.
The crowd hushed as Fang drew his face inches from mine. “Your witches say they don’t understand what’s wrong with my daughter.” He jerked me back and forth until my teeth rattled, as if he could shake the answer out of me. “Why, demon slayer? Why is this happening to our women and children? They can’t move. They can’t speak. They’re the walking dead.” I could see the fear in his eyes. Despite his bravado, he cared about these people. “Tell me what you did to them.”
“I swear I don’t know what happened,” I whispered, dizzy from the onslaught. I looked past him to the witches. They huddled at the far end of the trailer, stripped of their roadkill magic. Frieda shook her head, sad, confused. Afraid. The werewolves had the Red Skulls backed into a corner. Literally. It wouldn’t take much for the night to erupt into violence, and none of us had any illusions of victory.
Fang dropped me roughly to my feet, and I pretended it didn’t scare the bejesus out of me. Just like that, the game had changed.
“How many women and children have been affected?” I asked him.
“Nine total. Six in the last hour alone.”
Holy moley.
“This is an insult,” he declared, as if the girl were nothing more than a rug on the floor.
I didn’t know how or why the witches could possibly be involved. The Red Skulls wouldn’t attack innocent people. Besides, we needed the wolves.
Ant Eater cleared her throat. Thank goodness. As Grandma’s second-in-command, she had to talk some sense into these animals. “F*ck you,” she said.
So much for diplomacy.
Rex’s lips curved into snarl. “I told you it was a bad decision to take in the witches. Look at what they’ve done to our pups. We can’t trust them, we can’t trust their magic, and their demon slayer can’t even throw a rock and hit something with it. How is such a gamma supposed to get rid of the black souls? Fang is feeble and weak to trust them.”
Andrea curled behind Rex and planted a sloppy kiss on his neck. Oh ick. Now was not the time. “The witches need to pay,” she said.
“We have paid,” Ant Eater said, clearly annoyed. “None of you poseurs can axe a black soul. Lizzie made two disappear this afternoon.”
I did? Did that mean those dark clouds hovering over Pirate and Ant Eater had been black souls? Phew. Clueless could be a perk sometimes.
Rex looked as surprised as I felt.
Ant Eater took full advantage. “Oh, that’s right, you didn’t see that because she did it while waltzing through a death spell that would have killed any one of you. So shut the f*ck up and leave us alone. We’ll honor our end of the deal.”
The crowd murmured.
She scanned the multitude of faces, hands on her hips. “And another thing. We’re not the reason your wolves are sick.”
“Bullshit,” hollered a wolf in the back.
“Oh yeah?” Ant Eater countered. “Get up here and I’ll show you a spell that’ll rot your balls off!”
Voices erupted into chaos. Rex slammed his rifle butt down on the dirty linoleum until he had everyone’s attention again. “I say we kill them all,” Rex said, with obvious pleasure. “The Red Skulls have broken their contract. And now their leader mocks us.”
Way to go, Ant Eater.
“They promised,” he said, gesturing with the rifle like a TV evangelist. “They promised they would not cast mortal magic without provocation. She said it herself: the slayer cast a death spell. We can’t trust them. We have to kill them before they do any more damage.”
Oh, now he had no idea…
The crowd hollered until the trailer shook and I could no longer hear what anybody said.
Curse it all. We didn’t need this. The hospitality of the pack was the one thing standing between us and Vald. And now Rex just had to use my little run-in with Ant Eater to stir up trouble. I’d bet my last switch star he was behind the sick werewolves. It would be the perfect way to cast doubt on Fang’s leadership and seize control of the pack. And what would happen to us then?
“The spell caused gagging, weakness, shortness of breath…” Rex bellowed. Testosterone hung thick in the air. Fang looked ready to snap.
Ant Eater gripped the sick girl’s hands and dragged her up.
“Let go of her!” Fang ordered.
I watched in horror as Rex’s hands split into massive, furry, skeletal things. He drew his razor-sharp claws back, ready to rip Ant Eater open.
“Hold it!” Fang commanded.
Rex wasn’t going to listen. Oh my God. He was going to kill her. And challenge Fang’s authority. And start a bloodbath.
Rex sliced his hand through the air in frustration.
For a split second, nobody moved.
Ant Eater blinked twice before hauling the sick girl over her shoulder. Call it bravery or sheer cussed stubbornness. She bent under the weight, keeping an eye on Fang the whole time. “No more using your people like party props,” she said. “She needs a doctor. Not this shit.”
Oh yeah, way to piss them both off. Problem was, Ant Eater was right.
Frieda moved forward, scared silly but prepared to take the girl. The werewolf with the nose ring stepped in and, more gently than I would have thought, he lifted her into his arms. They passed her back through the crowd, hopefully to someone who would actually take care of her.
Andrea shook with anger, her blonde hair falling into her eyes, her boobs practically popping out of her corset top. “You live and breathe by our good graces and you gutter rats have the nerve to insult us. Our leader”—she said the word with distaste— “might not be willing to hold you to the fire, but the rest of us are.”
Fang looked ready to rip her a new one. He dragged her backward by her neck and threw her to the floor. She yelped in pain and scurried behind Rex. Fang’s face twisted into a mask of rage. “Our pack had none of these problems before we took in you witches and your corrupt spells.”
Ant Eater rested her hand on her revolver. “Hold up, a*shole. That was a personal thing between the brat and me. We ended it this afternoon. None of you were invited as far as I can tell. And the anaconda spell doesn’t make you sick. It makes you dead.”
Right on, sister.
Rex seethed. “Of course the witch will claim this isn’t her fault. We should eliminate them now before they can cast any more of their death spells. I know a demon who is willing to pay big.”
Vald? He wanted to hand the whole coven over to a fifth-level demon?
So much for rescuing Grandma. I’d be joining her if Rex had his way.
The werewolves erupted, pelting the witches with beer cans and bottles. A window shattered.
“Halt!” Fang ordered. “What I say goes, and I haven’t made my decision yet.” While the crowd quieted down, he kept an eye on Rex and said, “The debt I owed to Dimitri is paid and then some. You witches are a menace.”
Andrea curled herself around Rex like a python. She snarled at Fang, showing as much disrespect as she dared. “For all you know, these witches killed your son,” she spat. Then to the group, she announced, “JR is missing. There is no second-in-command.”
Fang launched himself at her, ready to tear her throat out. Rex met him halfway, luring the pack master into a face-off.
Ant Eater let out a string of curses that would make your hair curl. “Why does everything have to be a goddamned pissing match?”
Like she was one to talk.
Violence could erupt at any second. The werewolves held the whole coven hostage. Any show of weakness could tip the balance.
I held my head high. Fake it ’til you make it.
Sidecar Bob rolled haphazardly in the melee. He covered his head with his hands as pack members surged around him. Rex descended on Bob like a pit bull on a pork chop. He grabbed Bob by the ponytail and lifted him until his neck arched forward, open and exposed. The crowd jeered their approval.
Did I tell you I can’t stand bullies?
I started in for Rex, but before I could make it, the bulldozing took a deadly turn. I caught a glimpse of a dagger in Rex’s right hand.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
I plucked a switch star from my belt and let it fly. It whistled through the air and sliced clear through Bob’s hair. Rex leapt backward holding a shaking dagger and the remains of Bob’s ponytail.
The crowd hushed and dropped back. Rex didn’t know what to do.
“Well that sure shut ’em up,” Ant Eater said behind me.
The switch star flew back to me and I let it spin on my finger for an extra second or two, enjoying the reaction. I figured the universe could grant me a moment of indulgence.
“We’ll get your son back,” I told Fang. “And I’ll do what I promised about the black souls.”
Rex stood defiantly in the corner. He recovered from his defeat a little too quickly for my taste. I strolled deliberately toward him. I had a pretty strong hunch he was behind the poisonings. I stopped in front of him, tilting my chin up as I addressed the room. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, too.”
Rex snarled at me.
Fang, the ungrateful beast, was beyond ticked. He glowered at both of us, growling low in his throat. “I’d hate to have to kill you, Lizzie.”
I’ll bet.