A Tale of Two Demon Slayers by Angie Fox

Author:Angie Fox
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Dorchester Publishers

Chapter Twelve

Two hours, eighteen new weapons and a decimated rose garden later, a hand touched me on the shoulder.

I nearly jumped a foot.

“Relax, Lizzie. It’s me.” Dimitri stood behind me, looking all studly in a black T-shirt and jeans, his black hair damp and curling at the ends. He was a six-foot-six reminder of everything that was good in the world.

“Where have you been?” I could tell there was something big on his mind.

“I’ve been making inquiries. We have an issue,” he said, his gaze darting to Grandma, who was sitting on the ground in front of the stone house, mashing leaves with a mortar and pestle. “Do you have things handled on your end, Gertie?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Can’t you smell the turtle knees toasting?”

He looked at her like he didn’t quite have an answer for that one. I knew the feeling. “Do whatever it takes,” he said, and turned back to me. “Lizzie, I need a word.”

“Good,” I replied. It seemed he’d taken to heart our conversation at the ruins. If we were going to make it as a couple, we needed to be honest with each other, even when it wasn’t happy and fun. “So tell me. What’s going on?”

He took my hand. “Come with me. We need more privacy than we’re going to get here.”

Could he have been referring to Sidecar Bob, who was fashioning a barbecue pit out of the bottom half of a wine cask, or Frieda, who was mixing spells in the other half?

“You can go on into the house. Don’t mind that,” Grandma said, pointing to the pinkish haze around the stone armory. “A couple of the brownies got into Battina’s instant-evaporation spells. They’ll be okay once we put them back together.”

“Thank you for the offer. I know how busy you are,” Dimitri said. “But I have a place where Lizzie and I can talk in private.”

We headed up the gray slate steps to the villa. “Don’t apologize,” he said when he saw my mouth open. “I understood the consequences when I invited them in. Frankly, after all that’s happened, I’m glad for the extra support.”

“We are talking about the Red Skulls,” I said, recalling his less-than-cordial relationship with them in the past.

“I love you, and therefore I must love your clan. It is the griffin way.”

I had a feeling I’d be counting on that a lot in the future.

The opening beats to Grandma’s favorite Kiss song vibrated through the house. Before we could “Rock and Roll All Nite” with the biker witches, Dimitri took me to the old library off the foyer, a round high-walled room flooded with natural light. I hadn’t noticed on my first visit that the ceiling of the room was made of glass. It was set in triangular pieces to resemble a sun.

Dimitri closed the heavy oak door behind us. It gave us a measure of privacy, even if it didn’t completely block the bass beat on the other side of the wall.

“We’ve been surveying the grounds, and it seems the security situation is more dire than I imagined,” he said.

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