I Brake for Biker Witches
But we've gotten into a little trouble in the mean time."  
    He had to be kidding. I was a demon slayer, not a ghost whisperer. I couldn't babysit a bunch of undead bikers. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
    He turned his back on us as a chrome and black Harley appeared on the side of the road. Neat trick.  
    "Come on," he said, heading for his bike, "I'll show you."

Chapter Two

    "Oh sure," I muttered as we trailed after him through the darkness, sharp rocks sounding like fireworks under our tires. "Go off road. Follow an undead biker through the middle of the Mojave desert." I could feel the dirt in my eyes. I could taste it in my mouth. Our Harley's weren't built for this.  
    "No worries, demon slayer," Ant Eater's voice sounded behind my ear, "I know where we are."
    My bike was vibrating so bad my arms were going numb. "What? With magic?"
    "GPS."
    Okay. Well there was that.
    Ant Eater chuckled low in her throat.
    We'd been following the former Carl for at least twenty miles. I stared out into the night sky, the stars impossibly bright now that we were truly in the middle of nowhere. And about due for a breakdown.  
    We gunned our engines up and over a small rise.
    I stopped so hard my bike skid sideways.  
    "What the hell is that?" Grandma choked.
    Lights shone from a building below. Only it wasn't a building exactly. It was a shell of a foundation, half buried in the dirt. Phantom walls surrounded it and I could see glowing figures moving inside.
    The building shimmered and in that moment, I could make out a distinct, two-story Wild West tavern. Cracked paint announced the Tanglefoot Saloon. The rough wood front looked gray from the weather and age. At the horse hitch outside, I saw a line of ghostly gray horses. And motorcycles.
    The image shifted and I saw the faint outline of a two-story stucco building with neon bar signs in the window. Then it shifted back to the saloon. Iron Maiden's Twilight Zone thumped out into the parking lot, mixed with the faint tinkling of a piano.
    What the—? I glanced at Grandma, who just shook her head.
    We pulled closer. Weeds sprouted around the front of the saloon and a prickly pear cactus grew straight through the sign for the Paradise Bar and Grill.
    Our tires nudged the edge of a cracked parking lot. The desert stretched for miles in every direction.  
    "It's not real," I said, almost convinced.
    "Damn straight," Ant Eater said, agreeing with me for once.  
    We could deny it until gypsies grew wings, but there it was, as if it had sprung from the desert floor itself.  
    "I smell pickled eggs," Pirate said, scrambling through the maze of Red Skull bikers, heading for the front door.
    "Wait," I scooped him up. I was detecting something else.
    "Demonic?" Grandma asked.
    I opened my senses. "Maybe."  
    There was a raw energy to this place, like nothing I'd ever felt before. There was also a wrong-ness that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I tucked my dog under my arm. "Stick close, buddy," I said, not giving him a choice.
    "Aw now, Lizzie. Why don't you let me have any fun?" His legs dangled as he tried to push off me and jump down. "I'll be careful."  
    Like a bulldozer.  
    Grandma studied the phantom bar. "Okay," she said, rubbing at her mouth. "I want half of you to stay outside and make a perimeter," she said to the witches. "Get your spells out and be ready to use them." She eyed Carl, who had already walked up to the front door and stood beckoning us. She raised her voice. "The rest of us will follow Carl."
    Ant Eater leaned in close, as she pried off her leather riding gloves. "You sure that's a good plan?"
    "Best one we got," Grandma muttered.
    I was with Ant Eater on this one. A demon could take on many forms. Of course I wasn't naïve enough to think we were safe outside, or anywhere for that matter. "I'll go first," I said, setting my dog down on the ground. "You," I said, pointing at him, "are on backup patrol." Maybe I could at least keep him out of

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