Catching Dragos (11 page)

ridden flag. The man was going bald. Did he really think the comb-over hid that fact?

His gaze slid over us with a sexual menace that was both frightening and

repellent. “Where is Fabian?”

I shrugged. “If you’re a smart man, you’ll leave now. Sorcerers aren’t welcome

here.”

Rossi laughed. He sounded like a braying donkey. “Neither Serafina nor Annalisa

is a match for me.”

I gritted my teeth. If the grannies were awake, they would be kicking his butt.

Fabian growled like a rabid pit bull.

“For God’s sake, knock it off. You know the creep likes to rape and beat women.”

“I want him dead.”

“We all do. Now calm down and think.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Grams! Shake it off. Now! We need you,”
I yelled mentally and felt her wake up.

My groggy grandmother moaned,
“What happened?”

“Rossi,”
I lied. Hopefully, she’d never discover I was the one that zapped her.

Grams commanded tersely.
“Stall.”

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Rafael taunted, “Where is Annalisa? Surely the mighty witch isn’t afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” I laughed. “She’s gonna be so disappointed she missed the

chance to kick your ass. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”

A savage rage contorted Rossi’s features. “I’m not leaving without my medallion

and Fabian.”

I gestured. “Go ahead, look around, but I don’t think you’re gonna find them

here.”

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Rossi gestured with his hand. Shadows twisted, contorted, and rippled. An instant

later, two heavily armed thugs stepped out of the thinning smoke and leveled their

assault rifles at us.

A smirk on his ugly face, Rossi strutted toward us like a little banty rooster.

“Sooner or later, you will tell me what I want to know.”

“I think you’ve been smokin’ way too much of that wacky tobacky. This here is

Vizzini territory. The Dragos clan and us have been at war for the last two hundred

years. Remember?” My hand closed around my last spell bottle.

“We tracked Fabian to the circus. He came for the Vizzini slayer, and there has

obviously been a battle.”

He had me there. “Guess he caught her.”

Rafael cocked his head. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why are you covered in demon guts

and blood?”

“Me? This isn’t demon guts. It’s spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti?”
Fabian parroted.

“Shut up.”

Rossi arched his brow in disbelief. “That was a fib, and you don’t want to lie to

me. I find myself in need of a virgin.”

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Him and every other demon in the universe. “Let me guess. You’re gonna sacrifice

her?”

“I’m going to bathe in her blood.”

“I don’t think that’s going to help your thinning hairline.”

Rafael backhanded me.

I flew backward and crashed into Fabian.

“I thought we were playing it smart,”
Fabian groused.

“Yeah, but when I’m running a bit low on chocolate, I tend to get grouchy.”
I touched

my throbbing mouth.

Fabian snorted.

“Look, buddy, I’m a clown, and Tina here does tarot card readings. All we know is

things started blowing up and we hid here. If you want more information, you need to

talk to the boss.”

Rossi bared his rotting teeth. “I can feel your power. Slayer.”

Well, shit.
“I’ve got a flash-bang spell left. Get ready.”

Fabian tensed beside me.

“Power? Oh. I did find this.” I tossed the red bottle to Rossi. “Here. You can have

it. Maybe Fabian left it behind.”

“What the fuck is it?” Rossi stared at the bottle.

“Something that will rock your world.
Ibidem solus
,” I muttered, dropping to the

ground.

Fabian threw himself over me.

Boom!

Even with my eyes tightly closed, I could still see the blinding flash of light. My

ears rang.

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The hunter’s powerful hand closed over my arm, and he jerked me to my feet.

“Run.”
Stumbling over the two unconscious thugs, I snagged one of their guns and

tried to ignore the funny black spots in my vision. “I think I put a little too much bang

in that spell.”

“No kidding,” Fabian said drolly.

Rafael howled in fury, shot to his feet, and started hurling black magical bolts.

Anything they hit was instantly incinerated. Trees, cars, and trailers were

disappearing like wedding dresses at a bridal sale.

I fired back. The bullets bounced off Rossi. Crap. He had one awesome protective

barrier.

A fire truck and two police cruisers barreled up the main drive.

One minute we were running for our lives, the next we were in Grams’s motor

home. “Get us out of here,” Grams croaked.

I slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and headed for the back gate.

“Maybe you should put some clothes on.” I didn’t like the way Fabian was eyeing her.

Xero inquired hopefully,
“Safe now?”

I plucked her out of my pocket and set her on the dash.
“Not yet. I need your help to

watch for the bad man.”

“Me watch.”

Serafina stumbled out of the bedroom wearing a glittery blue caftan and handed

Grams a ratty old bathrobe.

Grams took it from her. “This isn’t finished.”

“Enough!” Fabian bellowed. “We have more important issues to deal with now.

Your petty feud can wait.”

For a moment, I thought Serafina was going to blast him. Then she nodded.

“You’re right.” She gestured, and Fabian was a guy once again.

He cupped himself and let out a relieved breath.

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One look at Grams’s angry frown, and I warned her, “Don’t even think about it.

There have been enough transformations for one day.”

She grimaced. “You stink.”

“Demon guts usually do.”

“Watch out, Myee,”
Xero called.

I glanced out the windshield. “Oh, shit!”

A police car was blocking the road.

Swerving around it, I crashed through the rotting fence and careened out onto the

highway.

Its horn blaring, a blue van whipped around us and missed the motor home’s rear

bumper by a good inch.

Xero bounced excitedly on the dash.
“Whee. This fun.”

The cop car’s overhead lights flipped on and, sirens wailing, gave chase.

I whipped the motor home down a side street. Candles, skulls, and bottles of

potions fell out of the cabinets. Another sharp turn, and the refrigerator door popped

open, spilling the contents across the floor.

With a wave of her hand, Grams put everything back in its proper place.

A handy talent. One look at the side mirror and I groaned. The squad car was still

on our butts. “Hold on!” I yelled, steering the motor home across three lanes of traffic.

Horns honked, tires squealed, and
bang, bang, bang
. Cars crashed right and left.

“Sorry,” I called and zoomed onto the freeway.

Fabian grumbled, “You trying to get us killed?”

“How’d you guess?” Red and blue lights flashed in my side mirror. That police

officer was one persistent bugger. “Can one of you ladies do something about him?”

Serafina gestured. The police car suddenly had four flat tires. It skidded wildly

and hit the retaining wall.

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“We just got lucky,” Fabian said, pointing to a caravan of motor homes ahead. The

rear trailer had a banner for the Renaissance Festival.

Grams smiled. “The ideal place to confront Rossi.”

“A little hocus-pocus, and we blend in with all the other medieval characters.” I

maneuvered the motor home into the center of the caravan and checked the side mirror

again.

“Shit.” A motorcycle cop was checking license plates.

One second the cop was riding a Harley-Davidson, the next he was on a tricycle.

“Thanks, Grams.”

The big-screen television suddenly turned on. Rossi stared out at us with a sneer.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

Xero yipped in fear and jumped on my lap.

Grams and Serafina turned to face the sorcerer and said in unison, “We challenge

you to Sepulcrum.”

He scowled. “I don’t have time for games. Give me the medallion, the slayer, and

the hunter. Refuse, and I unleash the Hasai.”

My jaw dropped. “Aren’t those demonic dragons?”

Fabian nodded. “They are, and fire-breathers to boot.”

“Fuck.” Rossi needed a bad case of jock itch to go with his STDs. I chanted, “
Viri

dyde mistral
.”

“You’ve got a mean streak,” Fabian said.

“Inherited it from my grandmother.”

Rafael twitched, did a little two-step, and dug at his crotch. “Surrender them, or

thousands will die.”

“Accept the challenge, or are you too much of a coward to face us like a man?”

Serafina spat at the TV screen.

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Rossi hissed. He literally hissed like a feral cat. “You will regret this.” The screen

went black.

“It’ll take him a day to raise the Hasai,” Grams advised.

Serafina added, “Which gives us time to prepare.”

Dread knotted my stomach. “How do we fight these fire-breathing dragons?”

A sword appeared in Fabian’s hand. “With this sword.”

“Oh, my God! That’s Excalibur! You’re the one who stole it from the King Arthur

exhibit in New York.”

“I did.” Fabian stroked the blade like a lover.

Then it hit me. I would soon be going toe-to-toe with the dragons.

Sensing my distress, Fabian took my hand. “Relax. After we complete the bond,

you’ll kick the dragons’ asses.”

“Things were so much easier when I was just the Judge.”

“We
will
defeat Rossi,” Fabian promised.

Xero pledged,
“Me eat Hasai.”

“Okay.”
I patted her head. Why did I feel like I was stuck in some kind of fractured

fairy tale?

A huge billboard sign declared: RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL NEXT RIGHT.

What better place was there to confront an evil sorcerer and fire-breathing

dragons? I followed the convoy.

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Chapter Twelve

The Renaissance Festival’s sixteenth-century village marketplace buzzed with

activity. Workers were setting up the performers’ tents and food booths. Several men in

chain mail practiced sword fighting.

Lucky for us, the event didn’t open until next week. Coming up with a rational

explanation for fire-breathing dragons would be a bitch.

I drove the motor home down a rutted road and parked behind the jousting arena.

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Please. The stench is unbearable.” Grams plucked Xero from my lap.

“Who you?”

“I’m your grandmother.”

Xero sniffed Grams and wagged her tail.
“You family.”

“Yes, I am.”

Serafina huffed.
“So am I.”
She reached over to pet Xero and snatched her hand

back when my sweetie snapped at her.

“No like you.”

“Smart demon,” Fabian muttered.

I growled, “She’s not a demon.”

“Mariah, she’s a Zanskin,” Grams said, flashing me a mental picture of a ten-foot-

tall furry white demon with some dangerous-looking horns.

“Xero doesn’t look anything like that,” I protested.

“Most Zanskin resemble small fluffy dogs until threatened, then they transform

into vicious fighters.”

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“Oh, but she’s just a baby.”

Grams beamed proudly. “Who has bonded with you and Fabian. She’s your

familiar.”

“A slayer team hasn’t had a familiar in over a hundred years. The demons won’t

know what hit them,” Fabian said happily.

A familiar? Whoa. It was starting to sink in that my days as the Judge were over.

My dad was going to be pissed. Things were changing so fast it made my head spin. I

needed some alone time to work everything out. “I’m going to take a shower.”

A worried frown creased Fabian’s forehead. “It’ll be okay, tesoro.”

Would it? I shut the bathroom door and leaned against it. Dragons? Never in a

million years did I think I would be going up against them. I could deal with cheating

husbands, thieves, and drug lords and not break a sweat. But this? Scared the crap out

of me.

Peeling off my stiff and crunchy costume, I climbed into the shower and turned

the water on. I held my face up to the spray, letting it wash away the blood and demon

guts. It was pure bliss.

The water rose to my ankles. I looked down and grimaced. The entrails were

blocking the drain. “
Dicitur moss
.” Poof. They were gone.

The bathroom door opened and Fabian stepped in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Some mind-blowing sex was just what I needed.

In record time, Fabian stripped.

I eyed his muscular chest and flat abdomen. I wanted to lick every inch of Fabian’s

yummy twelve-pack. His erect penis jutted over heavy testicles. Mr. Happy was ready

to play.

Fabian’s gaze lingered on my breasts.

Yep. They were among my best assets. I could always count on the girls

distracting my prey long enough for me to zap ‘em.

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“Which quarry did this?” Fabian touched the long jagged scar on my hip.

“A tiger.” I laughed at his you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me expression. “A drug

kingpin sicced his pet Bengal on me.”