Free The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers by Angie Fox Page A

see." Grandma barreled past me. She rattled the door with
all she had while I watched the face in the mirror. What in the world had she
summoned?
    "Cookies!" Pirate said. I could hear his delight even through the
door.
    "Don't eat anything!" I hollered out at him.
    "Aw now, Lizzie…"
    I wanted to claw my way past the door. We should have cut the tie
immediately. If we had, this thing wouldn't be in my room, with my dog. Why did
I listen to Grandma?
    "What's happening?" Grandma barked.
    "Now watch it. This is a rental," Phil admonished.
    It had to be the succubus.
    "Phil!" I screamed.
    Grandma pounded on the door. "Open up and fight like a woman!"
    No one answered.
    "Pirate!" I hollered. My stomach rolled over. If anything happened
to him, it would be my fault.
    "Phil!" Grandma yelled over me.
    "Pirate!" I repeated. The apparition in the mirror chuckled, drops
from its slashed neck sizzling down on Grandma's fat red candles. "What do
you know?" I demanded, not worrying anymore about something awful
happening because our afternoon had gone to hell anyway.
    The face disappeared into the mirror, replaced by a vision I could have done
without. Gray stone steps led down to a circular room devoid of windows. Heaps
of men's rings, wallets and other jewelry choked the small space.
    They weren't stealing energy anymore—they were killing people.
    Watches were strung up along the wall like war trophies, their faces smashed
in, as if Serena stopped them the moment she murdered their owners. A brunette
stood, her back to us, in a cloud of ash. A white minidress clung to her curves
and a matching jangle of bracelets ringed her tiny wrist. "Phil,
darling!" she called. Serena. I'd bet my last switch star.
    Please don't be there. Please don't be there.
    If I could call him to me, I hoped like anything I could also drive him away
from her.
    "Sugar lips!" Phil rushed down the gray stone steps. He wore the
same white tuxedo I'd seen him in right before we'd corralled ourselves in the
bathroom. The dried lavender drooped and fell from his coat pocket.
    Son of a witch.
    Phil's nose glowed bright red, and he couldn't stop smiling.
    Tingles shot down my body. I wasn't sure if they were from shock or from the
fact that one of my favorite childhood television stars turned her head and
winked through the mirror at me.
    "Agent Ninety-Nine!" I stammered. I felt like I'd walked straight
into a TV Land rerun. Serena was the spitting image of Maxwell Smart's savvy
brunette girlfriend, right down to her kicky 1960s hairdo and her kohl-lined
eyes. Never mind that her eyes burned with an unearthly fire and sparks danced
across her French manicure. I winced at the rubies dangling from her ears.
    She stood next to a positively glowing Phil.
    Grandma harrumphed. "He always had a thing for Barbara Feldon."
    Serena's white plastic bracelets jangled as he dragged her to him for a
sideways hug, "I missed you, babe." Phil planted a kiss on his
fiancee's cheek.
    Serena brushed her breasts against Phil's arm and nibbled his earlobe. He
stiffened and sighed as her nails dug into his neck, leaving bloody scrapes in
their wake. "Phil, darling, you know you shouldn't have left me."
    Phil seemed confused for a moment. He shook it off, a trace of doubt
lingering in the creases on his forehead. "My goddaughter called. I had to
go."
    "Not anymore." With a flick of her French-tipped nails, garlands
of black jonquils sprouted from the four corners of the room. Sickly sweet and
unlike any cemetery flowers I'd ever seen, the slender vines surged up the
walls and across the ceiling. Greasy green leaves twisted with twinkling red
lights, in a sort of macabre wedding canopy.
    A scraggly bone wedged its way out of the apex of the canopy. I didn't know
if it was alive or attached to something or what. Bits of leathery flesh clung
to the tip as it heaved and hitched itself into place. More disjointed parts
snapped and scurried together to form a grisly chandelier, complete with