The Accidental Demon Slayer

Chapter Twenty-four

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.
Think of cherry pie filling. I took it both hands, touched my lips to the sweltering cup and drank. It burned down my throat like a dozen shots of Jack Daniels, warming me, filling me. The two halves of my soul fused and radiated a sense of completeness and harmony that burst straight through me.
The witches burst into applause. I felt Dimitri’s emerald warm in my pocket.
I did it.
Frieda hauled off and hugged me while Ant Eater pounded me on the back.
I squinted as the overhead lights flickered on. “Beast Feast!” the witches hollered, stampeding for the door.
Frieda helped me ease off the goopy necklace and linked her arm in mine. “After that’s the dancin’. We captured a ton of dance spells. They take forever to make. Want some?” she asked, digging through her bra. “I’ve got an Angus Young and a Macarena,” she said, stuffing them into my pocket. “Both very big in their time.” And wait, she said, fishing below her left boob. “Tango!” She nudged me with her elbow. “I saw you out there heating it up with Dimitri.”
Ant Eater shoved her way past. “Wait,” she said. “Gertie forgot part of the ceremony.” Sure enough, Grandma and Scarlet debated back and forth as they studied the laptop screen. “Quick.” Ant Eater popped a salty, jelly beany, bitter-when-I-bit-it thing into my mouth.
“Ugh,” I said, through three chews and a quick swallow. I felt it every inch of the way down to my stomach. But I completed the ceremony this time. I did it. Come hell or highly unusual witchcraft.
Ant Eater burst out laughing.
“What?” Did I finally break through to that woman?
She grinned, her gold tooth flashing in the lamp-light. “You just ate an owl’s eye.”
Ick. “A magical owl’s eye?” I hoped.
“Nope. Just a plain old eye. Sucker!” She thumped me hard on the arm. “That was to get you back for not drinking the protection potion.
“Hey, everybody! Lizzie just ate an owl’s eye,” she guffawed.
I dug into my pocket, past Dimitri’s emerald.
“That’ll teach Lizzie not to mess with me,” Ant Eater said, her attention on the crowd as I slipped a Macarena spell into her drink.
Too bad I didn’t have time to watch Ant Eater star in Dancing with the Red Skulls. I had to go see about a griffin. And I hoped I wasn’t too late.
  
I didn’t know how I’d find him. My demon slayer instincts were programmed for danger, not sexy griffins. I’d just have to follow him to the airport, or to Santorini, or hell—wherever I needed to go.
As I dashed over the rumbling gangplank of the Dixie Queen, I saw him. Dimitri. I couldn’t believe he was still here. “Hold up!” I called like a crazy person.
He sat, back straight, on his Harley. Well, until he heard me yelling at him. I couldn’t see the look on his face, but I could tell by the way he hitched his long body off that hog that he was happy to see me. It had been a whole half hour, right?
“You’re still here!” I said, plowing straight into him. He caught me and we both lurched sideways. He smelled so good, like sandalwood and pure man.
“Easy now,” he said, running his hands along my arms.
I pulled him down to me and kissed him hard. He held me close, even after I broke away. “I had the worst feeling,” he said, his breath warm against my cheek. “Like if I drove down that road, I’d never see you again.”
I didn’t want to think about how close I came. “You knew I’d come back, didn’t you?”
“Hoped,” he said.
He slid his hand into my pocket and withdrew the emerald. “May I?” I nodded as he slipped the thin bronze chain around my wrist. “You’re coming to Greece with me,” he said.
Like I could resist. I may not know much about the magical world, but I knew a good thing when I saw it. I’d be crazy to let him go. “Well I figure I’ve never ridden a Clydesdale up a flight of stairs.”
“Diana will be thrilled.”
A grin tickled the corners of my mouth. “Me too.” I liked the idea of a family whose members watched out for each other. Growing up, I’d have given anything to have that. Now, between Grandma and Dimitri, I could have it two times over.
Dimitri reached into his back pocket and held up my dark blue passport. “A little something JR found in your desk at home.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You stole my passport?”
He had the nerve to look offended. “You stole my wallet.”
“Touché.” Ah, the memories lingered long after the underwear had dried. I nipped at his lips. He really was the most stubborn man I’d ever met.
“They’re here!” Frieda hollered, wobbling as she scurried down the path on her platform sandals. “Boy oh boy,” she told us, “your grandma’s hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.”
I fought the urge to bury my face against Dimitri’s chest. “What now?”
“It’s your Uncle Phil. He ran off with a succubus.” She patted at her canary yellow bouffant. “Rumor has it, they’re in Vegas.”
What did she expect us to do? “We’re heading to Greece.”
“You sure about that? The universe didn’t give you those powers for nothing. You too, buster,” she said, flashing a rhinestone-tipped nail at Dimitri. “You owe us one.”
Dimitri’s necklace pulse, glowed, wound down my body to form a—
Oh no.
I lifted the front of my bustier and peeked down at my chain link bronze showgirl bra, Dimitri’s tear drop emerald glowing between my breasts.
Did I really choose this kind of life?
I couldn’t help smiling.
Yeah, I did. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to:
  
Chessie Welker, my first reader and critique partner, for keeping me on track.
  
Leah Hultenschmidt, who found this manuscript and made a dream come true.
  
My agent, Jessica Faust—I don’t know how she got to be so smart, but I know I’m lucky to have her in my corner.
  
Harley rider Brad Jones, who answered a slew of “What if?” questions, let me ride along on the back of his hog and introduced me to Harley Boy and Cletus, two of the coolest biker dogs around. Thanks also to Jesse Lane, International Pack Guardian of the Biker Dogs Motorcycle Club.
  
Chocolate covered thanks to Stephanie Rowe and Sally MacKenzie for showing a newbie the ropes. I hope I can do the same for someone else.
  
Finally, I’m indebted to my own personal cheering squad—Joanna Campbell Slan, Ann Aguirre, Diane Freiermuth, Theresa Burnham, Candy Calvert and Nancy Herriman, Kathye Marsh, Mary Cooper Feliz, Anja Boersma, Scott Granneman and Aileen Crowe Nandi. You make the journey a lot more fun.
   
And, of course, to Jim.