The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers (13 page)

Pirate sized up the mound of Paw Lickin Chicken Biscuits I'd dumped onto our
bed. "You know what? I think I'll stay in for a change."

"Praised be," I said, tamping down a coil of guilt. I hated to
leave him alone, but Pirate would only be a liability tonight.

The same went for Dimitri. While he could be downright lethal in a fight, he
was compromised. I didn't want to get him any closer to the she-demons. Tonight
would be about negotiation. Mission one—make contact with the hunter.
Mission two—well, I had a feeling that with all the succubi in town, the
hunter might know a way to get Uncle Phil back, body and soul.

And since negotiation required actual talking, it was best I go it alone.
Judging from the marks on Dimitri last night, he hadn't exactly sat down for a
cup of coffee with the man. The last thing we needed was for the two of them to
go at it again. And Grandma? She had the people skills of Genghis Khan.

My hair brushed my shoulders as I gave it a final toss and a coat of
finishing spray.

"Pirate, you stay here and don't open the door for anybody, okay?"
I hoped no one would bother a twelve-pound Jack Russell terrier.

I kissed my dog good-bye and checked the door locks twice before I headed
out.

As if locks would stop them.

The Paradise felt eerily quiet. I'd half expected to see Grandma sending out
concierge Skeeps in the hallway or tracking demons down in the lobby, but she
was nowhere to be found. In fact, I hadn't seen Grandma all day—or
Dimitri.

I took a deep breath as I stepped out into the warm desert night. Groups of
tourists, some dressed for the evening, some still in shorts, streamed past.
Traffic jammed The Strip, and I could detect a faint trace of sulfur in the
air. Something was going down.

Okay. I smoothed my dress. I could handle it. Probably. Times like these, I
wished there were more than three Demon Slayer Truths.
Look to the Outside.
Accept the Universe. Sacrifice Yourself
. Maybe they should add,
Watch
Your Back
. Because, really, that's the only thing I could do until this
shadow of a threat decided to reveal itself.

When it did, it was my job to get the hunter on our side.

According to Officer Sid Fuzzlebump, the hunter frequented Pure, a popular
night spot at Caesar's Palace. As I walked through the tall glass doors of the
club, I caught a flicker of the supernatural. It didn't even try to hide. My
breath quickened and my palms began to sweat.

Pure billed itself as "two floors of decadence," which didn't even
begin to cover it. Blue and green lights splashed over a backdrop of white,
ivory, cream and silver. Toned, expensively perfumed twenty-somethings graced
lush, oversized beds and flitted between towering columns and flowing white
curtains. A hip-hop mix thumped with a heavy bass dance beat. Bodies bumped and
ground against each other, both on and off the dance floor. I opened my mind
and let my senses spread like invisible fingers throughout the opulent space.

How far would I be willing to go to get my friends out of Vegas? With any luck,
I wouldn't have to find out.

The hunter wasn't obvious among the partyers on the main level and immense
terrace above. It didn't mean he wasn't here. As I made my way through the
crowd on the main level, two polished businessman-types toasted me while
hunkering over a low, candle-strewn table. I straightened my spine and felt my
skin flush. I should be offended. I
wanted
to be. But, frankly, I
found the attention as flattering as it was shocking. I'd never been the kind
of girl to draw stares. Of course, I'd never been to a place like this, either.

I found myself inexplicably lured to the long, curving bar, backlit with
frosted white glass. Odd, because I didn't really drink. If anything, I should
make a lap of the bar until I found my quarry, or at least determined the best
place to hold to the shadows and wait. But something was about to happen here.

Fighting the urge to glance behind me, I squeezed in next to an
ordinary-looking man wearing a gray dress shirt and cuff links shaped like
old-fashioned water faucets. The one near me said, "cold." I'd bet
the other side said, "hot." I resisted the urge to compliment him on
them. Who knew what constituted flirting? Not me.

Lights from the dance floor echoed off the white and chrome bar—green,
white, blue—they pulsed to the beat of the never-ending dance track.

The bartender—who wasn't quite human—rattled a martini shaker,
his eyes fixed on a point above the flowing curtains covering the back exit. He
topped out at around seven feet, and if I wasn't mistaken, seemed to be of
Hawaiian or Polynesian descent. I followed his gaze, and when I didn't detect
anything strange, used his distraction as an opportunity to focus on the odd
slant of his ears, and was that a five o'clock shadow… on his forehead? I
couldn't quite tell in the dim light of the club. He felt
smoky
, not
demonic. Not exactly friendly, either.

He caught me watching, and I managed a smile. Eyes narrowing, he
thunked
a Long Island Iced Tea down in front of the hot/cold man and bypassed me for a patron
at the other end of the bar. Just as well. I wasn't here to drink.

The party girl on the other side of me squealed at something her date had
said, nudging her bare tanned back against me. I was about to put some space
between us when the man on my other side stiffened.

A pale, bony woman in a shimmering silver gown trailed her arm across his
shoulders and glided into place on the other side of him. Gauzy hair wisped
about her face and her entire body seemed to glow around the edges. Her
features were as frighteningly regular as a plastic doll's. Seduction hung
heavy in the air, along with unmistakable, infectious evil.

Succubus. I reached for my switch stars and felt them warm against my hand.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to bury one in her chest. And I
would—if she attacked. Problem was, if I struck, I'd be announcing my
presence to every demon in Vegas. That's the trouble with slayer
powers—they're like a bomb going off.

Add that to the two demons approaching outside, and one in the parking garage
next door. I didn't want to reveal myself unless I had to.

The man groaned, arching like a cat, as she fed off the briefest contact.
What would she do when she really got going?

Remember why you're here.

I'd come to find the hunter, not pick a fight with the she-demons of Vegas.
One wrong move in this crowd and we'd have a lot of dead humans as well.

The energy of the room surged, like static before a storm. My nerves tingled
and my stomach flip-flopped. Almost as if time stood still, I watched her hand
on his shoulder. Only this time, it wasn't plasticky or uniform at all.
Yellowed talons hissed and curled from an appendage that was more claw than
anything. Tendons and muscles worked under the emaciated skin.

She was a devil who feasted on men. A cunningly masked locust. My throat
tightened as I watched the air around her stir and shimmer even more brightly
than before. Her pale body flushed with life. Her shapeless silver gown wound
into a sleek black mini-dress, hugging her suddenly voluptuous curves. Thick
brown hair tangled down her back, bouncing and curling the way hair always does
in commercials but never in real life. Her nose was pert, her lips lush and
full as she cast a seductive smile.

The man about choked on his cocktail. "Excuse me for saying," he
said, his breath husky, "but you are about the most beautiful woman I've
ever seen."

I didn't doubt it. She'd tapped into his mind, rifled through his fantasies.

She threw her head back and laughed. My fingers clambered for my switch
stars once more, positively itchy.

I didn't want to give up my identity or what I'd come here tonight to do.
But I wasn't going to let her keep feeding on him, either. Where was the
frickin' hunter?

Her perfectly manicured hand lingered on the man's forearm. "I could eat
you up," she purred fetchingly.

No doubt she could.

Hell's bells
. I was the only one around who could stop this. She
hadn't given me a second glance, which was ideal really. I'm not that great at
hiding my emotions.

I could feel my teeth clench, the rage boiling inside. I hated her and
everything she was about. What she wanted to do to the man at the bar, what her
kind had done to my uncle. I wanted this one dead.

Before I did something stupid yet supremely satisfying, I felt the hunter. I
hadn't even realized how tightly I'd drawn my shoulders until I released them.
He was close. I could see him in my mind's eye. He drew me with the kind of
magnetic pull that was completely unnatural and at the same time, felt
right—like finding a kindred soul.

He approached her from behind, eyes on me the whole time. If it were
possible for a man to glow, he did. He radiated power, from the gold of his
honey-blond hair down to the ease with which he handled a switch star. He
carried himself like a Navy Seal, his angled features betraying a hint of
trouble.

He'd be an interesting one to deal with.

And let's just say he didn't look like the type who would screw around. No
talk, all action—which was perfectly fine with me. He dug a red switch
star from his belt. The blades spun like a chop saw the minute he hooked his
fingers into the otherworldly metal.

Without so much as a flicker of emotion, he slammed it into her back.

She blinked, stunned. But she didn't die.

My jaw dropped as the hunter cupped her heart-shaped face and drew her mouth
to his.

"Hey, wait—" the man in front of me stammered as the hunter
drank from her in an all-consuming kiss.

Without missing a beat, the hunter grabbed a fist full of crisp gray dress
shirt and shoved the man away. I couldn't hear what mister hot/cold said next.
The crush of conversations and beat of the club music drowned out everything
but "asshole," before the world's luckiest man disappeared into the
crowd.

But I could hardly take my eyes off the succubus and the hunter. She groaned
and thrust herself forward as she willingly gave herself to him. He dug his
fingers into her hair and took her deeper, each kiss harder, darker than the
last. He embraced her as her beauty faded. Her flowing brown hair thinned until
it was once again white and willowy. Her skin shriveled and shrank back from
her talons. She sank four long claws into the hunter's shoulder as she moaned
into his mouth.

No mistake—he was somehow feeding off
her
.

He kissed her, devoured her, ground her body against his. She issued mews of
pleasure, twisting in his arms, coiling against him, willingly giving herself.
He used her like a lover, arms around her and driving himself against her. It
was the most erotic, disturbing, addictive surrender I'd ever witnessed. My
breath quickened and I felt myself go wet. I wanted to be her, even as he
consumed her.

Her talons tore into his shirt as she struggled to pull herself closer to
him, to take more, give more. A living, breathing, skeleton of a
thing
,
she gave him everything she had. And still he kept taking, until there was
almost nothing left.

A wisp of the creature she'd once been, the succubus clung to her
executioner, barely more than a living shell. She pressed closer, still
desiring him. And then, with a long echoing groan and a gasp, she collapsed
upon herself, her body crumbling into a fine powder.

Only then did he release her, her ashes flittering away on an invisible
breeze as a papery thin black dress pooled on the floor. She was dead. And he
was… a monster.

Shocked, I raised my eyes to find the hunter watching me.

Moisture glistened on his lower lip, making his hard features arrestingly
sensual. His amber eyes held an almost dazed quality, one of indulgence
and—if I read him right—satisfaction.

And the demons outside didn't move.
They didn't know
.

He dipped his head slightly, in a courtly gesture of greeting and leaned
uncomfortably close. My fingers trembled against my switch stars as the beat of
the music anchored me to the here and now. I breathed in the light, spicy scent
of him, mixed with the sulfur of the demon.

"I wasn't expecting one so early," he said, his voice husky from
the kiss. "Thanks for distracting her."

Early? I drew back. It was nearing midnight. And as far as what he'd
done… "What are you?"

His mouth spread into a toothy Matt Damon grin, which would have completely
disarmed me if I hadn't known exactly what he was capable of. He held out a
hand, palm up. "You must be Lizzie."

"Who are you?"

"Call me Max," he said, his warm hand closing on my arm.
"Come with me, and I'll tell you everything."

A tempting offer, if I had any reason to trust him. My demon slayer essence
seemed to recognize him on a certain, uncomfortable level. The part of me that
had itched for a fight realized he was on my side. Still, something about him
wasn't entirely right. And even after that display, I still didn't know
everything a hunter could do. He hadn't exactly been friendly with Dimitri last
night.

"Actually," I said, careful to maintain eye contact. "I have
a few questions first."

The man had some explaining to do. He'd just drunk a succubus like a milk
shake.

He tilted his head, sizing me up. "Either way, I suggest we leave
immediately."

"More succubi?" I asked.

"There's that," he said, indicating over my left shoulder,
"And it seems you've brought trouble with you."

I turned to see Grandma arguing with Ant Eater near the entrance.

God bless America.

The last thing we needed would be for Grandma or the Red Skulls to get hurt.

"Come with me," he insisted, wrapping his arm around my shoulders
as he drew me through the crowd toward the back, muscles taut, every bit the
soldier under his tailored blue club shirt.