The Last of the Demon Slayers Read Online Free PDF Page A

shoulder.
    Chairs creaked as the witches clambered off their barstools.
    “Wait,” I said, planting a hand on her shoulder as Grandma started to take off.
    There was one more thing she needed to know.
    “He wants me to go see him,” I said.
    She gave a sour look. “I’ll just bet he does.” She shook the jar. “We’re going to find out what that man really wants.”
    “You can trace him?”
    “Hell, yes.” She grinned.
    “He made some kind of bad deal. He didn’t tell me what.” He probably didn’t want to scare me off.
    “Dang it, Lizzie,” she said, flat out frustrated. “You ever think of bringing me out there with you?”
    “You weren’t invited,” I said. She hadn’t sensed the presence of my father. She wouldn’t have even known he was there if I hadn’t just told her.
    Two witches leaned past us as Sidecar Bob started handing over candles from underneath the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Frieda stalk up to me, hands on her hips.
    Her blue-shadowed eyes narrowed. “Where in hell’s knob did you go?”
    “It’s a long story.”
    “Don’t worry, Lizzie.” Grandma clapped me on the shoulder. “We’re going to find out exactly what’s going on.”
    I hoped.
    Frieda wrinkled her nose. “Well my spell is fried.” She took me by the arm. “Come on.”
    Grandma walked past me. “Convocation in five minutes,” she said over her shoulder.
    “Where?” I asked. “In the bar?”
    “Nah, we got a better place.” Ant Eater showed Grandma a jar full of brackish liquid and the two walked off together.
    “Bathroom first,” Frieda said, leading me by the neck to the sink in the ladies room.
    “It won’t do any good. I missed the deadline.”
    “Don’t be such a baby,” Frieda coaxed, angling my head over the ancient industrial sink.
    I’d blown the cure. “I felt it poof.” Frankly, I didn’t want to know what was under the black goop on my head.
    Frieda snapped her gum and thought about it. “Let’s just see what that poof meant.” She turned on the faucet and sprayed my head and neck with cold water. “I don’t like to make my spells too precise or you lose the element of surprise.”
    I gritted my teeth against the rivulets of water trickling around my neck and down the front of my kick butt demon slayer bodice. “Did I ever tell you I don’t appreciate surprises?” I shouted from inside the sink.          “My stars, where’s the fun in that?”
    I watched the black water run down into the sink. The biker witches didn’t take things seriously enough. Yes, they’d saved my butt more than once. Sure, they could be a kick to hang with. But I just wished they could be a little more focused.
    As if answering my unspoken request, Ant Eater banged into the girl’s room. “C’mon. Everybody’s in the Bathtub Club waiting for you.”
    I lifted my sopping head. “You’ve got two dozen witches stuffed in a bathroom?” I wouldn’t put it past them.
           “No, Einstein. It’s the name of Creely’s momma’s speakeasy. This used to be her bar. When Prohibition hit, they had to improvise.” She planted her hands on her silver studded belt. “Grandmamma Creely was a witch too. We’re good at winging it.”
           No kidding.
    Frieda shoved my head into the sink. “They brewed gin in the bathtub upstairs, hence the name.”
    I tilted my head enough to see out. “Don’t tell me you’ve got booze going.” They’d barely cleared the Harley off the pool table.
    “Nah,” Ant Eater waved me off, “we just use it for spells. It’s the only badass secret place here, which is what you need for what we’re about to do.” She grinned, her gold tooth glinting. “Now get. Demons don’t worry about hairdos before they attack.”
    Ant Eater turned to go.
    “My dad’s not fully demonic,” I called after her, knowing how bad it sounded, “and he’s going to attack.”
    “If you say so,” she said over her shoulder.
    I stopped,