The Last of the Demon Slayers (17 page)

If only he hadn’t eaten the dreg.

Grandma said what I’d been thinking. “I’ll bet whatever was in that dreg compelled him.”

“Yes, but where?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

A small part of me was relieved that the attack in the desert hadn’t come from my dad. Of course now it likely came from Zatar, the Earl of Hades.

Pirate jumped up against my leg. I scooped him up. “The prodigal dog returns.”

He wriggled against my stomach. “I watched Max drive away.”

Hope surged in my chest. “Did you see where he went?

“Naw. I was too busy trying to teach Flappy to roll over.”

“In the air?” I lifted him to face me. “Were you even using a harness?”

He tilted his head. “Aw, you know that messes up my fur. Besides, Flappy and I were real careful.”

“Flappy.” I used my sternest voice. The dragon was trying to hide behind a tree. It didn’t work. “You both know better.”

“Snurfle,” the dragon whined.

Yeah, that had better be dragon for I’m-dreadfully-sorry-I’ll-never-do-it-again-and-by-the-way-lavendar-hair-looks-ravishing-on-you.

I let Pirate down and he ran straight to Flappy. I didn’t know what I was going to do with those two.

Grandma wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Come here.” She led me down the sidewalk, away from everyone else. “Frankly Lizzie, Max is expendable. We were more worried about you. That house is alive. I can almost see it breathing. After you closed the door, I got the sick feeling I’d never see you again.”

“I’m fine,” I said, pretending I didn’t know exactly what she meant. “Do you know anything about a demon named Zatar?”

She considered it. “No.”

“Then we do need Max,” I said. Sure I could Google it, but I was willing to bet Max knew things that weren’t on any research sites.

Grandma swore under her breath. Evidently she was thinking the same thing. “He’ll turn up.”

“I hope,” I said. “Maybe he’ll lead us to whatever sent the dreg.”

Grandma crossed her arms over her chest. “Because we need another enemy besides the demon who is after your dad.” She gave me a long look. “If we’re going to be facing down a demon of that caliber, we need to hunker down and prepare. I’ll also put in a call to Rachmort.”

She pulled out her cell phone and hit a button. “Damn,” she said, phone to her ear, “voicemail.”

My mentor had me worried. “He usually answers his phone.”

“Unless he can’t catch a signal. I doubt Sprint has towers in Purgatory.”

Grandma pressed a button and left a message for him to call us back right away.

“Are you sure he’s in purgatory right now?” I asked. He spent the other part of the year in Boca Raton.

“Only the winters,” Grandma said. “Sometimes fall.”

I hoped he wasn’t in trouble. Rachmort trained demon slayers, but he also worked with the semi-damned creatures trapped between heaven and hell. He worked for the Department of Intramagical Matters in the Lost Souls Outreach Program, which was kind of like a supernatural Peace Corps. They didn’t have a lot of necromancers, so Rachmort was up to his knees in spirits.

“Come on,” I said, heading back.

The witches were watching us. They knew something was up. I glanced back at the house. “I used to think dead was dead.”

Grandma grunted. “You also thought dogs couldn’t talk.”

“And fairies were cute.”

“And hell was made up,” Grandma added.

Boy did I wish that last one were true.

Speaking of mythical beings… “Did anyone see where Dimitri flew?” He should have shifted back by now, and found his clothes. Dimitri wasn’t the type to fiddle around.

      
I walked past Grandma and kept going, through the throng of bikers. “Frieda, have you seen Dimitri?”

      
She popped a pink bubble and cocked a thumb to a grouping of holly bushes a few houses down. “He ran into another griffin.”

      
“Lovely. We’re trying to ward off the ultimate evil and he’s socializing.”

      
But I knew the truth. Dimitri was needed elsewhere. It was just a matter of time. My heart sank as he emerged from behind the cover of the foliage, his face deliberately blank.

      
He was holding back again, probably because he didn’t want to overwhelm me with everything else that was going on.

      
I shot him a look that let him know we’d be having a long talk – sooner rather than later.

“Come on,” Grandma said, “Bob’s found us a place to stay. We’ll loosen our boots and I can work up that tracking spell.”

“Spectacular. Where are we going?”

“Someplace off the beaten path. His brother owns it.”

Okay, that was good for any kind of explosive spells the Red Skulls wanted to mix up. And we wouldn’t have to worry about innocent bystanders if something attacked.

“What does Bob’s brother do?” I asked.

Please tell me he’s a banshee hunter, or a dreg exterminator. I’d even take a voodoo mambo at this point.

Grandma just winked and hummed “I Got You, Babe” as she headed for her bike.

“You?” I called after her. “Sonny and Cher?”

Things were about to get weird fast. And in this world, that was saying something.

Chapter Thirteen

We drove up Highway 14 until the city gave way to monstrous hills that jutted straight up out of the desert plains. Scraggly plants clumped over parched soil, like nature going bald. Pockets of housing developments in earthy colors blended with the desert and scrub.

You’re not in Atlanta anymore.

I’d grown up with green - lush fields, magnolia trees and even highway overpasses dripping with bright pink flowers. This place reminded me of an alien landscape.

As we climbed higher and higher, the houses gave way to hot scrub forests, Joshua trees and the occasional scraggly pine. The sun beat harder here. I felt it warm on my shoulders and back.

Max should have been behind me on the bike. Instead, he’d taken off. I wondered exactly where he’d gone, and if he’d had a choice.

We rumbled up the narrow road, climbing a never-ending series of hills, which was an adventure in itself since Grandma and the witches liked to do wheelies at the top. My hair tangled out in front of me as we thundered higher and higher.

Betty Two Sticks shot out ahead, with Bob in her sidecar. He pumped his arm up and down, signaling a hairpin turn down a dirt path.

That sounded about right.

We pulled off the main road in a place where two golden-red sandstone formations slanted out at odd angles from the side of the road. If you didn’t know where to turn, you’d miss it entirely.

Low brush in scraggly gold and green clashed with the deep blue sky. We bumped over a country road for at least five miles. Dog-eared plants twisted seven feet tall in places, white flowers scattered among their sage green leaves. Dust tickled my nose and I was glad Pirate had opted to ride with Dimitri. At least he’d be farther off the ground.

The scrub gave way to green vegetable fields, held back by a series of colorful fences. Red, yellow, blue – somebody had a thing for primary colors. An immense sunflower made from recycled scraps of metal dominated the last field. Old pie pans hung from its petals, clanking in the breeze.

The road ended at a tall gate made up of round logs with the tree bark still attached.

Hippie graffiti ebbed and curled across the rough wood. A huge sun shone from the top, over daisies, polka-dot peace signs, rainbows and eyes with long curled lashes. Birds swooped back and forth. Fish curled around each other like yin and yang. There was even a smiling red skull. Coincidence? I didn’t think so.

Wound around two naked mermaids and a sea turtle, bright orange lettering announced our arrival at the Aquarius Ranch.

Why did I get the feeling it should have been called Time Warp?

Betty Two Sticks pulled up to the edge of the gate and Bob grabbed hold of a large hemp rope. He yanked it, ringing a dented cowbell.

These people and their cowbells
. I smoothed my lavender hair away from my forehead and back under my helmet. At least I’d fit in here.

Henna-dyed fingers reached around the gate.

“Cowboy Neal?” Grandma gave a whoop. “That you?”

A skinny gray-haired guy in purple sunglasses ducked his head out and waved like a wild man. He swung the gate open and gestured us in, a crazy grin plastered on his face.

Dimitri and I exchanged glances. “This is a first.” I’d never seen the witches so welcome anywhere.

We eased our bikes down a white gravel road flanked by vibrant orange flowers while Cowboy Neal bolted the gate behind us. He gave Sidecar Bob a knuckle bump and a big bear hug before sliding onto the back of Grandma’s bike.

“What the…?” I shot up in my seat as the hippie patted Grandma on the rear. Then he twined his arms way too comfortably around her waist. I waited (okay, rooted) for her to break his bony little arm. Instead Grandma took off down the road, fishtailing her back tire and showing off.

Oh help me Rhonda.

My gut churned with uncertainty. This had better not be what I thought it was.

We drove past a brightly painted pavilion and a half dozen rusting VW vans before coming to a stop near a red stucco cabin. Sunflowers tilted in the breeze and several half-barrel planter pots overflowed with green leafy plants.

I about fell off my bike when I saw just what kind of plants.

Flat serrated leaves reached like fingers from thin stalks. They grew in clumps like my schefflera plant back home. Only this was pot, hemp, cannabis.

“I hope they’re growing that for medicinal purposes.” I’d tried to stage whisper, but it came out as more of a shout.

Dimitri just laughed as he unhooked Pirate.

Yeah, I’ll bet he wouldn’t think it was so funny if this was his grandma’s place.

Pirate’s legs were already moving before Dimitri set him down next to the field.

“Geronimo!” My dog dove into a clump of orange poppies, leaping over tufts of flowers. Pirate loved to run. Unlike me, he didn’t even have to know where he was going.

Meanwhile, this Neal guy had his arm wrapped around my Grandma as if they were at the junior prom. He stood on the porch of the cabin, a firm grip on her as he gave half-hugs and friendly greetings to the rest of the witches.

Oy vey.

Dimitri practically dragged me up the walk.

“Go on inside.” The old man shepherded the witches into the low-slung building. “I’ve got a whole pot of avocado soup in the ice box and ginger tea bags under the counter. Bob will show you.” He high fived his brother, still not letting go of Grandma.

I dug my hands into my pocket, my fists making lumps in my leather pants. “You see how he’s manhandling her?”

“Disgraceful,” Dimitri said, wrapping an arm around me.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to work. “It’s not the same. She’s…”

Grandma.

Of course when Neal saw me, he rushed straight over, dug my right hand out and shook it with both of his.

Jerk.

“Hello,” he said, wrapping me in a huge bear hug, strands of wiry hair tickling my cheek. He smelled like mint and earth. He probably smelled like marijuana too. I didn’t know because I’d never smelled any before, but I’d be willing to bet he had it all over him.

After way too long, Neal pulled away. His hazel eyes shone with an inner warmth and confidence. “Welcome, Lizzie. You don’t know how wonderful it is to have you and the rest of your group here.” He spared a wink for Grandma.

I was ready to give him a shot until he did that.

      
Okay, no I wasn’t.

      
But the old hippie couldn’t take a hint. “Tripping ‘do,” he said, reaching to touch the lavender hair at my shoulder.

      
“You can’t be serious,” I said, stepping back, nearly bumping into Frieda.

“Dimitri,” my overly friendly griffin said, moving in between us as Neal pumped Dimitri’s hand up and down.

“Isn’t Neal dreamy?” Frieda whispered into my ear, passing us by.

“Oh, go eat green soup.”

Truly, the man was fondling my Grandma. He could be the pope’s brother and I wouldn’t like him.

Besides, we had important work to do. Max was missing. We had killer beasts on our tail. I couldn’t let Grandma get distracted.

Decision made. We’d be out of here faster than Neal could say Woodstock.

“Thanks for the welcome,” I said, “but we need to go. Now.”

“Oh, we’re staying.” Grandma nudged mister grabby with her hip.

“Lizzie’s right,” Dimitri said. “We need to track a demon by way of a demon hunter. As much as we’d enjoy your company, we can’t guarantee your safety, Neal.”

It wasn’t necessarily the
goodbye and good riddance
I’d been shooting for, but it was true. So far, when we’d had evil creatures ambushing us, we’d stayed in enchanted hotels or in hideouts far, far away from innocent people. Yes, this was partly about getting away from annoying Neal, but it was also about keeping him or any of his people from getting caught up in the trouble we’d brought with us.

“I’m in charge of this gang,” Grandma said, through gritted teeth. “And I say we stay.”

“I’m in charge of this mission,” I countered.

Neal didn’t look convinced. Neither did Grandma.

Okay, fine. “If a rogue demon hunter isn’t dangerous enough for you,” I added, “you should know we’re being chased by banshees.”

Neal didn’t even flinch. He nodded, earnest to a fault. “My brother Bob explained all that to me.”

Of course he did. I threw my arms up. I couldn’t help it.

“Lizzie…” Grandma warned.

“I’m giving him fair warning,” I said, ignoring Frieda as she popped her head out the door of the cabin.

Neal stood firm. “I know all about demons and banshees.” He ran a hand down Grandma’s back. “Not to mention this young lady’s powers.”

Was Grandma blushing?

I needed to learn some spells. Then I could thwack Neal with a jelly jar.

“It’s exactly why you must stay here,” he concluded.

“Wrong answer.” This man should be a politician. He was taking the truth and turning it sideways.