The Last of the Demon Slayers Read Free Page A

looking for mermaid scales. Evidently, we’d arrived during molting season. Lucky us.
    Some days, I couldn’t believe the things I had to put up with. But then there were the times that made everything worth it. Take tonight, for instance.
    Any moment now, my sexy-as-sin boyfriend would be walking in the door. Dimitri and I had been to hell and back – twice – but we’d never been on a real date. Tonight would be the first time.
    If we made it that far.
    Last time we thought we could relax, we were attacked by an army of imps. Then we spent four months in Greece. You’d think we could have squeezed in a date somewhere. But we spent most of our time re-building Dimitri’s estate. Then every time we tried to leave, one of the biker witches blew something up. Or my dog got loose with his dragon. Or Zebediah Rachmort, my mentor, decided he needed me right then because conditions were perfect for me to levitate or slow down time or visualize.
    That last one really got me. It didn’t make any sense to sit around and ponder my abilities. And before you say anything, pondering is different than planning. When I outline a strategy, I have a clear goal in mind. I’m not just sitting around wondering about things.
    Now that Rachmort had gone back to Boca Raton and we’d landed here, I could move from visualizing my hot-as-sin griffin without his jeans – or anything else - and start realizing it.
    In fact, Dimitri and I promised ourselves once we got back to the States, we would ditch the witches and the dog for at least one night a week. We’d talk, we’d cuddle – we’d date.
    Although frankly, right now I’d be relieved to see Dimitri whole and unharmed.
    He had a habit of picking dangerous assignments and then trying to do them by himself. Yes, he was a big, bad griffin and did just fine on his own. Still, I didn’t want to think of him getting into trouble out there.
    I rubbed at the tension in my shoulders, my wrist brushing the cold sludge in my hair. Focus on what you can control . I simply needed to wait for the bell to jingle, rinse out the spell and get back to normal.
    If only things were that easy.
    Three loud knocks sounded at the door.
    It wasn’t Dimitri. He wouldn’t have knocked for one thing. And I’d have sensed him for another.
    I looked to the witches at the bar. They hadn’t noticed, which was strange. I focused my demon-slayer powers and detected the unmistakable scent of death on the other side of the door, like rotten cherries and burned hair.
    My throat went dry.
    Relax. I was the Exalted Demon Slayer of Dalea. I could deal with this. Even if I’d only inherited the job less than a year ago.
    I flung open the door and was hit in the face by the same smoky, burning sensation from before, only this time it was a hundred times stronger. A black crow stood on the porch. The thing was massive – the size of a house cat with a shiny black body. It spread its wings wide and screeched.
    “Holy Hades,” I gasped, my fingers dropping to the razor-sharp switch star I always kept on my utility belt. That’s when I realized the bird was dead. Its eyes were milky and vacant rather than black and beady. As it turned from the porch, I saw it had been run over. The back of its skull caved in and its spine twisted at an impossible angle.
    My heart sped up.
    “A zombie crow,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off the thing.
    It turned back to me. “Reeeaaawrk!”
    The dead bird’s cry sent new shivers up my spine. “What do you want?”
    It uttered another unearthly shriek.
    Before I could decide what that meant, a tower of flames shot up from the woods beyond the bar. “What the—?” It blasted us with a wave of hot wind and flecks of dirt. The crow stumbled against my leg, and I took a quick step back. I rubbed the grit from my mouth and eyes as the fire crackled orange against the bare trees of the forest.
    Caw! Caw! The bird beat its wings and urged me to follow.
    Sure. A zombie bird