The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (4 page)

Stone-faced, the Dragon Lady eased a long purple rod out of a side pocket in
her pants. It had to be two feet long, jagged in spots, smooth in others.
"You hold still," she ordered as she came at me with the thing.

Yeah right. I could have run to Cleveland with the excess energy I was
trying to hold back.

I forced myself to stay put as she came at me. The rod swirled with a life
all its own. My shoulders tensed. I'd wondered where the magic was. Now I
regretted wondering.

Whatever she was going to do with that thing was not going to be fun.

She touched it to my ear and I felt a cold energy seep through my head, down
through my neck and arms.

"I thought you said the test was over," I said, fighting not to
flinch. Sure, she was stone-cold and possibly evil, but I didn't think she'd
hurt me.
Probably
. I fisted my hands and forced them to my sides, my fingernails
slicing into my palms.

Get a grip.

This had to be standard procedure. If I was getting ready to face a
soul-stealing she-demon, I could handle the dragon lady and her oversized
stick. She gripped my chin with a chilly, freakishly strong hand. I clenched my
teeth as she forced the rod farther into my ear canal.

I never thought anything would make me miss those standardized tests at the
DMV. Those stubby pencils and—"Yow!" The rod stung like an
icicle. I cringed, trying to ignore the low
thwom, thwom, thwom
of the
gadget from hell.

"What is that thing?"

"You stay still."

Easy for her to say. Something gooey trickled into my ear. My right hand
eased down to my switch stars, just in case. Of course leveling a switch star
at my DIP Examiner wouldn't bode well for my licensing efforts.

Boots crunched up behind me. I tried to turn, but the rod in my ear made it
impossible.

I heard a chuckle, which was almost worse than the
thwom, thwom, thwom
.

"Very interesting," said a smooth male voice behind me.

"She failed."

"I saw," he replied. "It was like pitching a semitruck off a
cliff."

He moved to where I could see him, a man in his early forties with an
overlong face, thick gray hair and a little too much amusement in his eyes. At
least he looked human. He wore a standard beige DIP uniform and nodded at me
like I should somehow know him. "You avoided a nail pit back there. That
takes skill."

"Enough to pass the test?" Maybe this was Dragon Lady's boss.
"I need to get my license in order to—"

His grey eyes twinkled. "I know why you're going to Vegas, Miss
Brown."

"How?" I stammered.

"That doesn't matter." He dipped a hand into his front pocket and
cocked his head sideways. "Officer Ly?"

She drew the rod out of my ear and I found myself rubbing at the spot where it
had been.

He handed me a Kleenex. "You're off the charts when it comes to natural
ability. I've never seen the divining rod go blue before."

I turned to see the Dragon Lady wiping it down with an alcohol swab. Sure
enough, it sparkled with an eerie, ice blue light. And it had shrunk about a
foot.

"What good is that going to do me if I can't get my license
today?"

The Dragon Lady balanced the rod on her clipboard and began scribbling.
"According to your reading on the Augur Rod, you are in fact a demon slayer
and therefore entitled to a Demon Slayer's Learner's Permit, to be used in the
presence of an instructor as per the Demonic Licensing Code, subset C."

Relief whooshed through me, along with the distinct feeling that I'd somehow
regressed back to age fifteen. "So I can go to Vegas on some kind of a
supervised program?"

She frowned. "You have an instructor?"

"Yes." Grandma qualified. For the most part. "An excellent
instructor," I said, wishing I was right.

"You will wait inside for your permit to be printed, at a cost of
twenty dollars, payable by cash, check or credit card."

"Fine." Pride is overrated anyway. At least I could finally do my
job.

"You will leave the testing area." The Dragon Lady turned on her
heel, and I was about to follow her when the gray-haired man touched my arm,
setting off a new wave of pain down my left side.

"With me," the man added. "I'm Senior Officer Reynolds."
He delivered a smile designed to reassure, and I felt a warning tickle in the
back of my brain. He reminded me of my high school principal, who had a way of
making me feel like I'd been scheming, even when the wildest thing I did was
play five card stud for pennies during lunch.

Reynolds winked, like he knew what I was thinking, and I decided right then
and there I didn't like whatever kind of power he had.

"If you'd like to step into my office, I have a proposal for you."

Of course. Dread slicked through me. Everybody wanted something, although I
wondered what Senior Officer Reynolds could possibly want from a demon slayer
with a learner's permit.

He led me through the side door of the DIP office and down a hallway behind
the main customer area. Traces of magic lingered below the stained yellow
ceiling tiles and I could almost sense something above. "This place only
has one story, right?"

Officer Reynolds didn't answer. Instead, he motioned me into a cramped gray
room with a small industrial desk and two hard-backed folding chairs.
"Have a seat," he said, wedging himself between the desk and a potted
plant he'd ambitiously placed between it and the cinder block wall.

I sat, arms over my chest, feeling the tug as a messy scab began to form on
my chewed-up left arm.

Officer Reynolds leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "I
understand why you're suspicious. Everyone wants something from a demon slayer,
right? Well, I promise I won't delay you or put you in any more danger than
you're already in."

How comforting.

He ignored my apprehension. "Word is that you're heading into Las Vegas
to take out a succubus."

I nodded. "One has her claws in my uncle."

He tented his fingers. "With a learner's permit, you are allowed to
attack if provoked—in the presence of your instructor, of course.
However, I suggest you lure her out of the city before you attack."

"Why?" Spilling demon blood could disrupt gravity for a few
seconds, maybe startle a couple of folks in the immediate vicinity, but quite
frankly, that was the least of our problems.

"I'm sure you understand that we've always had a succubi issue in Las
Vegas. It's what lends the city its charm, really, that 'devil may care'
attitude."

I stared him down, refusing to believe a demon could be charming.

"Nevertheless," he said, straightening in his chair, "it's
gotten a bit out of hand. We started with six. At last count, we had thirteen."

Holy Hades. I couldn't clear out that many. Not that he'd asked.

With a start, I realized why he'd suggested I lure my uncle's she-devil out
of the city. If the succubi learned of a slayer in Las Vegas, they'd swarm me.
I'd have no shot—not against that many. "How'd it get so bad?"

Officer Reynolds cleared his throat. "Time, a lack of options. The
Department for Intramagical Welfare has studied the situation extensively and
determined it isn't worth the risk. The demons police themselves…
somewhat," he said, fingering his collar. "Never mind."

These bureaucrats were insane. "You think it's easier to ignore
thirteen demons than it is to deal with them?"

His cheeks colored. "I don't make the rules. I follow them. But it is
true. I don't know how we'd uproot the demons. To tell you the truth, I'm not
sure the American public would want us to. They lend a certain air of
unpredictability. What happens in Vegas…" He cleared his throat.
"Anyhow, I'm certain you're aware of this," he said in a tone that
suggested the opposite. "As a demon slayer, you can sense how many are in
a single location."

I wasn't following.

"You can get a head count if you will."

"Okay," I said, unwilling to admit that was news to me. Then
again, I'd never been in the presence of multiple demons. And of course telling
me in advance wouldn't help me to prepare because—let's face it—I
had no idea what I was doing.

"We'd prefer that you not contact any of the Greater Nevada Magical
Governing Departments while you're in Las Vegas. We'd rather not be involved if
things get messy."

"Oh sure." Scary thing was I was used to this kind of thing.
Be
a good little demon slayer and help us out while we leave you high and dry
.
If I had a switch star for every time…

Well, unfortunately, I did.

Reynolds delivered a wan smile. Yeah, he knew what I was thinking.

"We'll send a plainclothes representative to you. One of the
fairies."

I have to admit I lit up at that. I'd never known fairies existed, much less
met one.

He smoothed his short gray hair. "If you'd be so kind as to tell us how
bad the problem has gotten," he said, sliding open the top drawer of his
desk, "I'll let you keep this, ahem, guide until your next exam. You can
study up," he said as he flipped through the official
DIP Guide to the
Demonic Licensing Exam, Volume 3
.

Guide? This was an antique, done in purple mimeo type. I picked it up and
flipped through the yellowed pages. "Is this your latest version?" I
asked. "There's a diagram of a garter belt switch star holder in
here."

Officer Reynolds had the decency to look embarrassed. "The book was
printed the last time we had a slayer in town. A pair of them,
actually—back in 1936. After that?" He shrugged.

Yeah, yeah. I knew. Everybody wanted a demon slayer—nobody wanted to
train one.

I knew there weren't a lot of us out there, but, "Why is there no
updated instruction book?" I asked. "How is it you have printed
pamphlets out in the lobby for basic witchcraft, exorcism"—Reynolds
snorted, but I kept going—"Heck, the library stocks spell books.
Ever heard of
Divination for Dummies
? I have. Then there's
Voodoo
for Dummies, Druids for Dummies, Alternative Magick for Dummies
. I can
learn how to brew up "protective" bath bubbles, but when it comes to
saving people from the scourge of hell, I have to wing it?"

He raised a finger. "You don't wing it," he said, the lines on his
face deepening. "You listen to your instructor."

If I'd listened to my instructor, I'd be in Vegas right now, probably being
ambushed by about a dozen she-demons. We'd almost messed up. Bad.

I was tired of taking chances.

I always had a plan—except when we ran into scary magical creatures
that wanted to kill us. No more. I was going to take control. I'd start a
diary. No, a guide. I'd seen
The Dangerous Book for Boys
in every
store from Mississippi to here. I'd create my own manual.
The Dangerous
Book for Demon Slayers
.

In it, I'd record everything I knew (not much) and start filling in the gaps
from there. The more I thought about it, the giddier I became. I could study
how fast and far switch stars could go. There could be a whole section on
magical creatures, forbidden and otherwise. I could make modifications to my
utility belt, starting with the critter that lived in the back and liked to
chew holes in my nightshirts. I could find other slayers. I knew we were rare,
but it was all the more reason to stick together. When we supported each other,
demon slayers across the world could fight harder, be more efficient.

I could control my life and my destiny
—
one color-coded
binder at a time
.

The 1936 handbook would offer a decent start. I flipped through the old
book. Sure, I could probably lose the section on demonic jazz clubs and demon
activity at the dedication of Boulder Dam. Maybe keep parts on how imps had
been trained to drive cars. I hadn't realized they were so smart.

I squinted. Lo and behold. "Are these recipes in the back?"

"Don't let the outmoded wording fool you. There's some good information
in there." He hesitated. "I know you're desperate."

"Look, I might not be able to levitate—" and maybe I'd
seemed a bit frantic when I thought they were going to refuse to let me into
town…

His smile was grim. "You're bringing a griffin into Las Vegas. I know
you're desperate."

"Never mind how you know about Dimitri," because somebody was
certainly a snitch, "but why shouldn't I bring a griffin into Las
Vegas?" As far as I could see, my strong, steady boyfriend was my best
shot at getting out of there alive.

"Griffins are of the sun, the light. Energy, power flows from them."

He had that right. My body warmed just thinking of Dimitri.

Officer Reynolds leaned across his desk, hands clasped, his expression
somber. "Griffins are a succubus's favorite snack."

My heart slammed in my throat.

Dimitri had done it again. Maybe it was a griffin trait. I wanted to
understand, but I couldn't help it—it drove me crazy every time he'd run
off and try to solve everything himself. It usually involved sacrificing
himself for what he perceived to be the good of the group. He had no right to
do it, especially when he didn't even have the decency to tell me where he was
going.

Reynolds looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. "Ahh,
so you're not bringing a griffin into the city to act as a sort of locator
beacon?"

"Stop it," I said. I didn't know what Officer Reynolds was, but
enough was enough. "Why would anyone use a person like a locator
beacon?"
That's horrible
, I thought. On purpose. To test him.

At least Reynolds had the decency to look embarrassed. "It used to be
standard practice. Griffins can even fight succubi, for a while. Surely you
know the story about the two griffin clans that defended London back in 932 AD?
The ones honored on the London coat of arms?" He shook his head.
"Never mind."