Night of the Living Demon Slayer (3 page)

Good point. "That's all you want?" In my line of work, things were never that simple.

He ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I was hoping you could help me figure out how they're trapping the souls." He glanced to the sky where the soul had taken off.

"Maybe we can still figure it out." I could at least help him with the alligator. "Although it seems odd. I've heard of voodoo mambos raising the dead." Unlike shambling movie or television zombies, magic-based zombies were real. "But from what I hear, voodoo zombies have no souls or awareness."

"This is more than a mindless, drugged, walking corpse," Carpenter said. "The alligator is alive and aware. I drove a stake through its head and it kept coming at me. I've never seen anything like it." He shook his head. "Osse Pade shouldn't be able to summon a black soul that can keep a beast like that alive."

But he had.

"This is crazy," I mused. Ask me to put a switch star into the forehead of a minion of hell and I was your girl. As for the rest of it—necromancy, dark magic—it was a little out of my league.

"So you'll do it," he said.

"I will." Carpenter had been there for me when I needed him. I glanced over to Grandma, who stood nearby, not even bothering to hide the fact that she'd been listening in. "You're coming with me, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she said.

Carpenter held up a hand. "Not a good idea," he said. "I traveled here through the Between Realm."

I'd heard of that. It was a special system of super fast travel open only to those approved by the Department of Intramagical Matters. He was more connected than I'd thought. "I've always wanted to see the Between Realm."

"I'd be glad to show you," the necromancer said, keeping an eye on Grandma. "But this isn't a rave. I can't take you and thirty of your closest friends." He returned his attention to me. "Just you."

Impossible. "I need them."

Now he was starting to get irritated. "This is just a quick trip down and back."

I got that. But my gut told me to keep my team together. "When facing undead reptiles, I find it useful to enlist all the help I can get."

Ant Eater grinned. "Want me to show him what we can do?" she asked, raising a spell jar.

"No," Grandma and I both said at once.

Let's just settle down," I added, before the necromancer got a taste of a Mind Wiper, or a Frozen Underwear spell, or whatever else glittered in that jar. I leaned in close to the necromancer. "Humor me on this one. Please."

He let out an undignified huff. "Now I remember why I escaped back down to New Orleans the first chance I got."

"That's the spirit," I told him.

"All right," Grandma said, rubbing her hands together. "Let's start packing up."

"Already taking care of it," Ant Eater said, motioning to the dozen or so witches now scurrying around the courtyard. "I've also got a spot in mind for us to crash once we get down there. My family has a place big enough for the coven."

"Fantastic," I said, surprised by her revelation. "I didn't realize you were from New Orleans."

"Not anymore," she shrugged.

"This could be good," Grandma said, warming to the idea. "Ant Eater's family owns hotels all over the city."

Now that surprised me. I took another look at Ant Eater, the hard-ass champion of beer can pyramids who couldn't seem to get the garden dirt out from under her fingernails. "You come from money?"

The gold-toothed witch huffed. "Could be why I'm so high maintenance."

Grandma clapped her on the arm. "We don't have to let them know you're in town if you don't want."

 
"I'm not breathing a word," Ant Eater said, with a touch of sadness. "We'll bunk down in my Grandma's old house. It's so haunted, the family pretends it doesn't exist. Nobody's been there since she died in 1962."

"Then it's settled," I told her. We didn't mind fixer-uppers.

"I do have to warn you," Ant Eater said, holding up a finger, "the walls bleed."

"From black magic?" Grandma asked.

"No," the Ant Eater said quickly, "angry ghosts."

"That's fine, then," I said. "Let's do it."

Carpenter watched the entire exchange with slack-jawed horror. He'd learn soon enough.

Meanwhile, Pirate scampered up, running so fast that he nearly collided with my leg. "What are you doing here? I asked. Jumping on my bed should have occupied him longer.

He turned in a circle and sat. "Does this house have a porch big enough for a dragon?"

"That dragon is not making a nest on the porch," Ant Eater barked, before I could answer.

Pirate didn't flinch. "Then I'll share my room."

"We'll figure it out," I said. I still couldn't believe we were actually going to do this.

Neither could Carpenter. "I really think you and your friends are over-preparing here."

"You can ride with us," Grandma offered, which I considered rather generous after he'd tried to cut her out.

"On motorcycles," the necromancer drawled, "across country," he added, as if the whole idea were absurd.

Ant Eater grinned and said what we were all thinking. "Sounds great to me."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll stick to the Between Realm." He stopped and thought for a moment. "How long will your way take?"

"Three days," I said. Or we could fly. I really hated to leave the bikes behind, though. They were great for quick escapes. Trouble was, ever since Ant Eater broke up with Sid the fairy we'd been tossed off the lightning-fast fairy paths.

But Carpenter was already nodding. "Three days actually works. They're having a ceremony for the blood moon. We can neutralize the alligator then. You'll get a chance to see them in action. I'd like your opinion."

"I'll be there," I told him.

He drew a pad out of his pocket and wrote down an address on Royal Street before tearing it off and offering it to me.

He held onto the paper a second too long as I took it.

"My friend's place. Meet me after dusk on Wednesday."

Interesting. I wondered exactly who this friend might be. "I'll be there," I said. And we'd just see what the Big Easy had in store for us.

Chapter Three

The witches didn't waste any time packing. Only instead of prepping for a fast bug-out on their Harleys, they began pulling out massive wooden crates. I'd never seen anything like it.

"What are you doing?" I asked Grandma, who had retrieved a clipboard from her room and was busy taking notes.

She glanced up at me. "Advanced logistics," she said, gnawing on the end of her pencil. We both stepped out of the way as Frieda scooted past with a basket full of dried herbs.

Grandma caught the blond by the arm and pointed to some of the others who were removing stacking trays from the crates. "Pack the active ingredients for the protective spells in a separate box from the trouble-making potions." The set-up reminded me of a tricked out version of the containers I used to pack holiday ornaments. "I don't want our shielding compounds coming into contact with any Light Eater spells. Or worse, the Bat out of Hells."

"I've never heard of that last one," I said. "What does it do?"

Grandma chuckled. "Makes you run like a bat out of, well… you know." She shot me a conspiratorial look. "We got plenty. Want to try one?"

"Not yet," I told her. I wanted to say 'never,' but we both knew better than that.

A furrow formed between Grandma's brows as she flipped the page and looked over the second half of her list. "I can't get over all the stuff we've managed to collect while we've lived here. I swear our stuff is breeding while we're not looking."

In their case, it could be possible.

I just didn't get why they had to pack so much of it. "This is a quick down and back," I reminded her. I was starting to see Carpenter's point. "It's just me and him, going in for one night."

"We like to be prepared," she said, "in case things get sticky." She gave me a wink. "It's what kept us alive for thirty years before you showed up."

I got that. I did. But I also wondered if there was something else behind all this.

It had to be tough to live so long without a permanent home, only to find one and have to leave it so fast. "You have to realize you are coming back," I pointed out.

Grandma leaned in close to me, her gray hair tangling around her shoulders. "This is what we're calling a semi-light bug-out." She watched Ant Eater scoop a fish out of the sacred pool with a net. "We only take the magical stuff. Not a lot of personal do-dads. No entertainment or fancy clothes."

"Ah, so you mean the dart board and your silver studded leather chaps," I clarified. The witches hardly lived with excess.

Ant Eater strode up. "I've got the transport set up and cleansed." And by that, she didn't mean with soap and water. The stout witch turned to the group and clapped her hands. "Let's start loading."

"What exactly are you using to haul everything?" I asked. The witches didn't have a truck.

"Don't worry about it," Grandma told me. Neal is lending us an old school bus."

Great. "We're not going to be conspicuous at all driving into town."

"Hey," she said. The silver eagle ring on her finger glinted in the sun. "We're not trying to sneak. If anything, we're your excuse to get close to that voodoo bokor. You're fleeing the crazy witches and seeking out a whole 'nother brand of odd."

"With any luck, they won't even realize I'm there." I planted my hands on my hips. "Does this mean you're seeing Neal again?" I'd been glad when she dumped him. He was a bad influence.

"Nah," she mused. "You know he can't keep up with me sexually."

"Grandma!" I protested, losing whatever shred of cool I'd managed to drum up. I didn't want to think about her and him…and
ohmygosh
. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks.

"It's a part of life, Lizzie," she said, being both annoying and pragmatic at the same time. "And, yes, I'm glad we're taking every shred of magic we can spare. If any of this can help us in New Orleans, I'll consider it a good use of resources. Besides, if everyone does their job, we'll be out of here in an hour."

Impossible.

Then again, I knew better than to use that word around the biker witches.

In any case, "It'll take me that long to go home and pack a duffel bag."

Grandma eyed me, serious as a heart attack. "Then you'd better hop to it, demon slayer."

***

While I still couldn't believe Grandma and the gang could pull off a full-fledged breakdown of their headquarters in about the time it took me to watch an episode of
The Walking Dead
, I was careful not to waste any time as I headed back to my condo to grab what I'd need for the road.

Dimitri and I had lived in the cozy, two-story townhouse for—wow—I realized it had been almost a year since we married. Time flies when you're shacking up with a hot griffin.

I grabbed a slice of cold pizza from the fridge. Then I called him on my cell as I headed upstairs to our bedroom.

He answered on the first ring, which was so…Dimitri.

"You miss me already?" he asked.

I'd never get enough of that melodious Greek accent. Or his other attributes.

"Lucky for me I could walk this morning," I said, as I reached down to scoop up the gray wool pants he'd discarded outside our bedroom door. He'd tried out a few new tricks last night. With mind-blowing results. "Where did you learn that?"

His voice was rich, full of promise. "You inspire me."

I couldn't help but grin. I sure hoped he wasn't saying that in front of a room full of griffin warriors.

Dimitri was meeting with the griffins at some secret location in Seattle, a place you couldn't reach unless you shifted and flew there. "Are you busy?"

"I haven't gone inside yet. What's up?"

I told him about Carpenter's visit, and what the necromancer wanted me to do.

Dimitri let out a low snarl.

"I like this sexy protective thing you have going on, but this should be really simple." I tossed the sheets and covers up over the bed, realized how rumpled it looked, and started over. This time, doing it right.

A hard sigh escaped him. "I realize what you were put on this earth to do. It doesn't mean I have to like it when you start wrestling alligators."
 

"Look at the bright side. Maybe I'll be the one who gets to put my hand down its throat."

"You realize this has the potential to blow up into something completely different, not to mention dangerous? I've got a bad feeling about it." He paused for a long moment. "I just wish I could be there for you."

"You're welcome to come kick butt when you finish there." If I wasn't done already. I picked up his cologne from the dresser. It smelled like him, warm and spicy. I replaced the cap. "Just don't fiddle around too much, comparing wingspans and talking griffin smack."

"We also like to see who can carry a wild bull the farthest. Or a moose. Any horned beast will do."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"You'll never know." Voices sounded on the other line. "Damn. I have to go."

I grabbed my suitcase out of the closet. I hadn't used it since our honeymoon. Hitting the road with the biker witches usually meant packing light, but this time, I could stash a suitcase in Neal's bus. "I expect you to come down to New Orleans as soon as you can, so you can show me what I'm missing." Maybe we could take a little vacation afterward.

"It should only be a few days. I love you, Lizzie." He said the last part as if he could somehow make it happen if he wished for it hard enough. "Be careful."

"You got it," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "I love you, too."

After we hung up, I opened my closet and began pulling out clothes for the trip. One good thing about being a Harley-riding demon slayer: the outfits I wore made packing easy. I mean, have you ever tried to wrinkle a pair of skin-tight leather pants?

I tossed two pairs out onto the bed, and added a few skirts, some colorful bustiers, and a pair of super high heel leather boots, just in case we did add a vacation to the end. I also zeroed in on two pairs of elbow-length leather gloves that I'd originally bought to be sexy for Dimitri, but now realized would make nice, protective accessories.