demon slayer 07.5 - demon slayer Page 3

What to do about it was another matter entirely. Grandma might have answers—if she weren't in another dimension. Partying.

  Cripes.

  Think.

  We had to find a way to beat the ghost and then somehow, hopefully, return home.

  But I couldn't switch star an incorporeal entity. I couldn't spell him. Even if Dimitri shifted into his griffin form, his teeth and claws would be useless.

  "Uh, Lizzie?" Pirate leaned harder against my boots.

  The black fog had begun to take form.

  "Stay close" Dimitri murmured.

  The three of us stood together as I reached into my belt for the protective crystals I always carried. I laid them out around us in a circle, willing them to hold back the evil that chilled the very ground where we stood.

  Steely gray eyes glowered down at us.

  "This isn't going to be enough," I said, placing the last of the crystals.

  The phantom loomed over us—at least seven feet tall—larger then he possibly could have been in real life. He wore an old fashioned suit with a thick black necktie and a heavy silver cross. His gray teeth glowed with an unnatural light. "Anybody ever tell you? Sin leads to damnation." Fire flickered at the edges of the phantom and I could swear I smelled brimstone.

  He drew himself up like a demented preacher. "For the whoremongers," he announced, "for them that defile themselves with mankind. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body. Cast out your lust!"

  I took one step back, then another, causing Pirate to stumble and dash behind me. "We weren't sinning, we're married!"

  The ghost spat on the ground. "No virtuous woman wantonly inspires lust in a man." He advanced on me. "You are a sinful whore."

  I hurled a switch star at his head.

  It flew straight through and didn't come back. My weapons usually acted as boomerangs. Had the ghost vaporized it? Maybe it had gotten caught on one of the tombstones.

  It didn't matter. The switch star hadn't stopped Hiram Peele.

  "What do you want?" I demanded.

  He sneered at me like I was a wayward child. "Hold still, now. You're going to get a good hard beating for the Lord."

  "Back off," Dimitri hollered at the ghost, trying to shove me behind him.

  "It'll make you a better woman," the ghost said, swinging a meaty fist down.

  A thousand sharp pricks of energy slammed into me like debris from a hurricane. Pain lanced through my cheek. It was only a small portion of his wrath. My pathetic crystal ward glowed, absorbing what it could of his energy. But my hastily drawn circle wouldn't last. Not against this.

  I swallowed back my shock. I'd never been personally attacked by a supernatural entity—based on who I was. The ghost didn't care that I was a demon slayer. He'd gone after me because I was a woman.

  Dimitri surged for the ghost, but it was as if he hit a wall of energy. Hiram tossed him onto the ground.

  "Stay away from her!" Pirate hollered.

  Hiram's wrath surrounded us, swirling. Howling.

  Pirate emerged from his hiding place behind me and braved the edge of the circle, his ears flinging back, "Leave Lizzie alone! She didn't do anything! Eva, too. She's terrified!"

  The winds whipped Hiram's beard and hair. His eyes glared daggers into the black smoke to our right. "Don't you leave, Eva Fawn. You had to go and make friends, don't you? Now you're going to see what you made me do."

  The woman's head shimmered into view, weeping. Cuts and scars crisscrossed her face until she was unrecognizable. Harsh winds tore at her hair as she screamed. And with every scream, he grew.

  Dimitri watched, calculating. "Her fear is giving him power."

  It was the classic abuse scenario. I'd be willing to bet the sicko succumbed to temptation with his wife and then beat her for it.

  She'd given him her power in life and he was using it to hold her here.

  "Leave!" I yelled to her. It was obvious she was in pain. "He can't hurt you anymore." I hoped. I thought.

  A cut above her puffy, swollen eye opened up and blood poured down over her face.

  Pirate let out a high-pitched doggie whine.

  Frick. I tried to see outside the circle, but the ghost's wrath surrounded us.

  "We have to help her," my dog pleaded. "She's hurting!"

  I didn't know how. "She's been trapped here for more than a century," I told him. "She doesn't have anything else."

  I wished she did. I wanted to help. The blood poured down her neck, her chest. She shook as her arms and hands came into view.

  "She has me," my dog insisted.

  "It's not enough," I told him. Yes, she'd crouched by the fire all night. She'd laughed with Pirate. I'd heard her. But I didn't see how a connection like that—with an animal no less—could change this.

  And then, my dog did the unthinkable. He dashed out of the circle, through the choking black smoke and into the arms of Eva Fawn Peele.

  "No!" I screamed. Dimitri held me back or I would have snatched my dog out of the air.

  As it stood, I'd never seen anyone—ghost or human—more shocked than Eva when she reached out caught him.

  "I'm here! I love you! I'll help you!" Pirate wriggled in her arms, licking at her face, not caring that it was bloody and battered and awful.

  The ground shifted. I stumbled, off balance, stunned as Hiram Peele hollered and lost the left side of his body.

  "You got 'em!" Pirate said happily. "Look!" he said, snuggling tight in her arms.

  No, she didn't have him. Eva had simply yanked part of his power supply. He turned to his wife in shock. Then his lip lifted into a cold sneer. "You will not—"

  She kissed Pirate on the head, her eyes glazed with tears.

  The phantom drew a sharp breath.

  On the other side of our black hazed prison, bonfires appeared. Warmth flooded the air and I could see biker witches dancing, casting spells, and basically being their gorgeous, wonderful obnoxious selves.

  We were back!

  The ghost stared at his wife. It didn't appear he'd seen that side of Eva for at least a century and a half, if ever.

  But it was a hollow victory. Yes, Eva had found something else to care about, the start of a loving relationship. But it didn't fix everything.

  Hiram Everett Peele drew up to his full height, his face a mask of fury. Eva buried her face in Pirate's wiry fur.

  "Drop that filthy animal." He stood over her. "Now."

  Eva clutched at my dog, shaking.

  Holy hell. Hiram was enjoying the fight. "Or have it your way," he snarled.

  He shot out his hand and released a bolt of power straight into Pirate's neck. My dog yelped and fell to the ground.

  "Pirate!" I screamed.

  "No!" Eva cried.

  His small body lay twisted on the grass. He wasn't moving.

  Dimitri held me back. Barely. Oh my God. Pirate looked dead.

  Hiram smirked as he sneered down on his wife. "Don't look at me that way, woman. This is your fault. You didn't obey."

  Pain seared her eyes, mixed with fury. Rage. Her cuts faded away. Her bruises morphed to silky white skin. "No!" Her voice curdled as she drew out her hands like claws and launched a bolt of rage directly at her husband.

  It hit him square in the chest and lit up the night. Needles of her energy pierced my skin as Hiram Peele, master of the house, staggered back, eyes wide with shock. He tried to speak, but no sound came as the light streamed from his mouth, nose and eyes.

  She hit him again. And again. I squinted against the power and the light.

  He broke apart, lost form as the cloud of smoke surrounding us began to break apart.

  I ran to Pirate, who had started to roll over and open his eyes. I took him up into my arms as the phantom that was Hiram Peele screamed. He clawed and fought, but it did him no good. He was sucked back down into the grave.

  Eva Peele stood in front of us. Tears streamed down her face. She appeared utterly exhausted. And she only had eyes for Pirate. "Is
he all right?"

  Pirate lifted his head, although it had to be hard for him after such a hit. "I think I could use a belly scratch."

  Eva let out a small, happy cry and stroked Pirate on the head and down the neck. Both seemed particularly pleased when he turned all the way onto his back to help her get to the soft fur under of his belly.

  Meanwhile Dimitri inspected the place where the phantom had gone down. "We have to act. Now. There must be a way to trap him here for good."

  I reached into my utility belt for a biker witch distress flare. It was long, small and had a double set of wings. "Emergency!" I hissed, before launching it up into the air.

  It shot up high, leaving a glittery silver trail, until it burst into a red shower of sparks overhead.

  Chapter Four

  The biker witches arrived with pork ribs in hand.

  "What have you got?" Grandma asked, ducking past a leaning tomb.

  We explained, and in mere minutes, we had an army of witches working at breakneck speed.

  "Take Two Toed Harriett back into the woods to gather more dioscorea if we need it," Grandma hollered to Frieda, as she poured herbs from her fanny pack into her palm and began mixing them with her fingers.

  "That sounds like a disease," Dimitri said.

  Grandma made a sign of the cross. "Protective herb. Should be strong enough to plant that abusing asshole back in the ground."

  The biker witches each commandeered a small piece of land and began laying hands on it, chanting and sewing it with herbs. Dimitri brought up torches and supplies from camp. Meanwhile, Pirate managed to commandeer a discarded rib bone or three. He was looking better. Weak, but happy.

  I scratched him on the head. "How's it going, buddy?"

  His ears drooped. "She says she has to leave."

  I looked past him and could barely see the outline of Eva Peele. It was as if she'd begun to depart already. "It's her time," I said, to both of them really. She'd earned her peace. "I'll bet she'll always remember you."

  "She will." Pirate paused in his chewing. "She's more powerful than she thinks. She just needed the love of a pet to bring her out of her shell."

  We both watched as the outline of Eva Peele took on a beautiful golden glow. She smiled. Happy. Then she lifted her chin toward the clear sky, scattered with stars, and began to rise.

  "Thank you," I said, hoping she heard me as she drew higher.

  Pirate nudged me. "She said to tell you the same thing."

  We watched her until we could barely make out a perfectly round white orb as it ascended to the heavens.

  ***

  An hour later, the witches had completed their work. Warmth filled the night. The haze had lifted and the ground felt solid beneath our feet.

  Ant Eater walked over to me and slapped a hand on my shoulder. "Well, the master of the house is pissed. But he's not going to be able to hurt anybody again."

  "Hiram Peele is still here?" I asked. I'd half-expected them to banish him. Where, I had no idea.

  Grandma gave a low whistle as she joined us. "He refused to budge. So we locked him up in his grave." She glanced back at the old mausoleum. "As long as nobody disturbs him, he'll be fine."

  "I'll let the owner know," I said.

  "Want me to go with?" Ant Eater offered.

  I shook my head. "Not necessary."

  I took Dimitri instead.

  We grinned at each other, same as before, as we walked up to the old mansion.

  "Let's make a deal," he said. "Next anniversary we're going to avoid supernatural entities bent on killing us. I mean, first the wedding and now this." He squeezed my hand. "I don't want it turning into a tradition."

  I kissed him on the cheek. "Deal."

  Marjorie stood on the front porch. Her red hair glowed against the heavy bronze light over the door. She raised a hand in greeting. "Is it safe?"

  Dimitri and I exchanged a glance as we made our way over to talk with her.

  "What do you think you saw?" I asked.

  She watched me as if she were trying to see into me. "I saw a bunch of vandals in my cemetery. Until the ghosts by the fire dropped their tea cups and bolted for the light."

  She was more aware than I'd realized.

  "They went to a better place." Dimitri said. "Hiram Peele has been put to rest as well."

  "He was the troublemaker, wasn't he?" she asked.

  I nodded and relief washed over her features. "This is going to sound crazy, but I could almost feel him leave." She paused. "Do you think it will be safe to open up the bed and breakfast again?"

  "It should be." The house felt lighter. Clean. "Bring a priest through to bless the place. And don't disturb his grave," I warned her.

  She nodded. "Not a chance."

  "You might also want to hire some help," Dimitri told her. "I think you're going to have a lot more customers from now on."

  We'd have the witches whip up a spell to draw some extra customers. Marjorie worked hard. She deserved it.

  "Let's head out," Grandma called, approaching from the cemetery. "We're missing the rest of the barbeque,"

  Our hostess frowned. "You are with those bikers?" She seemed genuinely confused. "But you said…" She halted. "But you're so nice."

  "They are too," I said, as Grandma joined us on the porch. "The biker witches just took care of your poltergeist problem for you."

  "Well darn it," the owner said, fretting all the more. "Now I wish I hadn't called the sheriff on them."

  Grandma smiled and clapped her on the back. "No sweat, we get that a lot." She turned to me. "Ready to go?"

  We said our goodbyes and headed off through the cemetery with Grandma. It looked like the other witches were back at their party already.

  "They sure don't waste time," I commented, as we made our way through the graves.

  Grandma snorted. "Yeah well when you get up there like us, you don't have a lot of time to fritter away."

  "So are the police coming?" I asked when we'd almost made it. Music blared across the field. You Really Got Me by Van Halen. Now that the crowd had spread out, I could also see they had a hog on the grill.

  Grandma planted her hands on her hips. "Already took care of the law. The sheriff is drunk over by that tree. We hit him with a barbeque-craving spell. The rest is on him." She gave me a sideways glance. "Anyhow, it appears we're spending the night after all."

  "Good." Dimitri wrapped an arm around me. "Let's go find your present. It should be here by now."

  Grandma let out a curse. "That was for you?" She said. "I sent him away."

  "Ask me if I'm surprised," Dimitri mused. He was used to fixing messes. "It's a good thing we have other ways to keep busy," he added, edging me back toward the pine forest.

  Grandma hesitated. "You don't want to stick around and celebrate?"

  "We will later," he said cryptically.

  Grandma appeared confused for a second, before she started laughing.

  I ignored her, and drew closer to my husband. "You're still in the mood?" I asked. "After all this?"

  Not that I minded a romp in the forest with my man, but he'd been through a lot tonight.

  He nuzzled my cheek. "Biker anti-passion spells don't last long on me. At least not when you're around."

  Damn. "That just totally got me in the mood."

  He turned to me, his sharp features accented by the moonlight. "I love you, Lizzie. I'll always want you, no matter what."

  His words soaked through me, warming me like nothing else ever world. "That's the best gift you could ever give me."

  And then I kissed him, contented to know that he was mine. To love, to hold, to grow old with. For better or worse. For the rest of our lives.

  Check out Angie Fox's brand new Southern Ghost Hunter series

  The first book, SOUTHERN SPIRITS, is available now!

  When out of work graphic designer Verity Long accidentally traps a ghost on her property, she's saddled with more than a supernatural sidekick—she
gains the ability see spirits. It leads to an offer she can't refuse from the town's bad boy, the brother of her ex and the last man she should ever partner with.

  Ellis Wyatt is in possession of a stunning historic property haunted by some of Sugarland Tennessee's finest former citizens. Only some of them are growing restless—and destructive. He hires Verity to put an end to the disturbances. But soon, Verity learns there's more to the mysterious estate than floating specters, secret passageways, and hidden rooms.

  There's a modern day mystery afoot, one that hinges on a decades-old murder. Verity isn't above questioning the living, or the dead. But can she discover the truth before the killer finds her?

  Check it out on Kindle.

  Keep track of Angie's new book releases by receiving an email on release day. It's fast and easy to sign up for new release updates

  Most of the following Angie Fox titles are also available in print format.

  THE BIKER WITCHES/

  ACCIDENTAL DEMON SLAYER SERIES:

  The Accidental Demon Slayer

  The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers

  A Tale of Two Demon Slayers

  The Last of the Demon Slayers

  My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding

  Beverly Hills Demon Slayer

  Night of the Living Demon Slayer

  Date with a Demon Slayer

  THE SOUTHERN GHOST HUNTER SERIES

  Southern Spirits

  A Ghostly Gift (short story)

  The Skeleton in the Closet

  THE MONSTER MASH SERIES:

  Immortally Yours

  Immortally Embraced

  Immortally Ever After

  SHORT STORIES:

  The Tenth Dark Lord 'A Leaping: Lizzie and Dimitri's first Christmas (a demon slayer novella)

  Gentlemen Prefer Voodoo

  Love Bites

  Murder on Mysteria Lane (from The Real Werewives of Vampire County anthology)

  What Slays in Vegas (from the So I Married a Demon Slayer anthology)

  Angie Fox is the New York Times bestselling author of several books about vampires, werewolves and things that go bump in the night. She claims that researching her stories can be just as much fun as writing them. In the name of fact-finding, Angie has ridden with Harley biker gangs, explored the tunnels underneath Hoover Dam and found an interesting recipe for Mamma Coalpot's Southern Skunk Surprise (she's still trying to get her courage up to try it).