Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read Free

eradicating the smelly little beasts for good, I’d promised Allie a birthday party at her choice of venue if she could come up with a solution in less than a week.
    It had taken her three days. And I hadn’t been sure if I should burst with pride at my daughter’s resourcefulness and brilliance, or cower in terror from the possibility that she’d want to hold her party at home. We’d be forced to sell the house simply because of the destruction wrought by two or three dozen partying teenagers. Either that or bring in a hazmat team for a week’s worth of cleanup.
    As it turned out, she’d selected the old Palace Theater, a classy choice with a rental price that included a cleanup crew. Bonus all the way around.
    “We did salt and holy water and then we scattered a powder made from the bones of saints,” Allie was saying, her comments directed more to Stuart than to me.
    “Powder?”
    She shrugged. “I guess they have barrels full of the stuff in the Vatican.”
    “Probably an overstatement,” I inserted.
    “Dunno,” she admitted to me, then turned back to Stuart. “But Father Corletti overnighted us a couple of pounds, and Daddy and I used your fertilizer spreader to—What?” She leaned in, peering at his face, which did look a little queasy. “It’s just ground-up bones. It’s not like they pulverized living—”
    He held up his hand, and she had the grace to stop. “You’re telling me that you and your father came out here to the cemetery with my lawn tools and spread salt and saint bones?”
    Allie glanced at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. I stared back at her, equally confused. And Stuart looked between the two of us, then sighed. “I’m seriously considering scheduling time every day,” he said. “A few moments, all by myself, where I do nothing but sit and ponder the ramifications of what you do and what goes on around here.”
    I tensed, listening for warning bells in his voice. Signs he was scared or fed up or otherwise ready to bolt on me again. But all I heard was quiet resignation. And, surprisingly, a hint of respect, too.
    He met my eyes. “She took a fertilizer spreader,” he said, as if I hadn’t already picked up on that little fact. “And because of that, no zombie is rising out of this cemetery.”
    “Is that good or bad?” Allie asked, voicing my exact question.
    “It’s a hell of a lot more than I’ve managed with the thing. I can’t even get the dandelions to stop sprouting. So no vampires rising either, right?”
    “Right,” I said. “But I already told you I haven’t seen any vampires in San Diablo.”
    “Better safe than sorry,” he said stiffly, and I again regretted the way I’d boasted one night, telling him about the time I’d fried a few vamps with a Bic lighter and a travel-sized can of Aqua Net. “Come on, guys,” I said. “Timmy’s going to a birthday party at ten tomorrow, and I’d like to get at least a few hours’ sleep before I spend two hours with fifteen screaming kiddos.”
    “One more go,” Stuart said, and I nodded in agreement.
    “I want you focused,” I said to him as Allie pulled the black hood back over her face. Serious eyes peered out from a sea of black, and I turned my attention to my daughter. “You’re in the shadows. Use your discretion when to attack, but don’t pounce again. I don’t think Stuart’s ribs can take it.”
    “Probably not manly of me to admit, but your mother’s right. I’d consider it a personal favor if you didn’t break any bones tonight.”
    “No prob, Stuart,” she said, then melted into the dark.
    “You’re on your own,” I said, then took a step toward the shadows. The sharp clang of metal against rock stopped me, and I froze, trying to discern the direction from which the sound had come. “Allie?” I whispered, then jumped as she materialized a few feet in front of me.
    “Not me,” she said, her voice so low I could barely hear it.
    I gestured for her to come closer even as