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

jogged
behind me. "My Mind Wipers make you forget everything but who you'd most
like to be."
    Sure enough, right past the rusty barbeque pit, Pirate had already dug a
hole the size of his head. Dirt flew up behind him as he burrowed into Phil's
backyard. "Don't worry, Timmy! I'll save you!"
    I knew I shouldn't have let him watch
Lassie
on TV Land.
    "We're running short on time," I told Grandma.
    "I might have hit the old man with a Mind Wiper," she said,
kicking the door closed behind her. "It's hard to tell."
    I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Well if you didn't," and if
this block had any sort of a neighborhood watch, "the police could be here
any time." My stomach dropped at the idea of being handcuffed in the back
of a police car, having a mug shot taken, having a record. It would be the end
of my dignity, not to mention my teaching career.
    Bits of glass crunched under my feet as I stalked through my uncle's
cluttered living room. "We have to find something in here that tells us
how to find Phil. You take this room." I'd already seen enough. "I'll
go back to the kitchen. Then if we don't find anything out front, we can check
the bedroom in the back."
    I headed straight for Phil's refrigerator and began scanning past the year's
worth of pizza coupons, newspaper clippings and, egad, pictures of me plastered
all over the door.
    "Come on, Phil," I muttered, fingering the mess on the
refrigerator and sending a couple of slot-machine magnets clattering to the
floor. All we needed was a phone number, a calendar, anything to tell us where
he might be.
    "You never told me you wrote poetry!" Grandma hollered from the
next room. I could hear her clomping around on the hardwood floor, from display
to display. Phil had more mementos than my own adoptive parents. Although to be
fair, my adoptive mom, Hillary, did have mounted displays of my report cards,
until she'd opted to use the antique wood frames for her equestrian
certificates.
    "Focus," I said, rifling through a stack of lunch receipts and pay
stubs from the Hoover Dam. "I can't believe you knew about this."
    She'd dragged me halfway across the country without all the facts. If she
wanted to have me as a partner, she'd better well start treating me like one.
    I stared at the decade's worth of dance recital photos crowding the side of
Phil's fridge. My adoptive parents hadn't even made all of those performances.
He'd been there for me, even if I hadn't realized it at the time. I just wish I
knew how to save him.
    My stomach dipped when I saw the jar on top of the refrigerator. Were those
my baby teeth?
    Couldn't my parents even handle being the tooth fairy?
    On the other hand, it explained why my friends had gotten silver dollars and
I'd gotten inspirational notes and fairy beans. No wonder my adoptive mom
hadn't been pleased when I planted my fairy beans behind her Carolina jasmine
arbor. But most of my wishes had come true, except the one about Luke Duke
coming to my birthday party. And even as a six-year-old, I knew that was a
stretch.
    I blew out a breath in frustration. Nothing in this kitchen gave me the
barest hint to where Phil had gone. Until I saw the St. Simmions Church
calendar tacked up next to the yellow wall phone, and what was scrawled across
today's date. "Grandma, he took today and tomorrow off work at the
dam." A knot formed in my throat. "For a wedding."
    Something shattered in the next room.
    No kidding.
    "Where?" Grandma demanded.
    I raked a hand through my hair. "I don't know." This didn't make
any sense.
    Grandma burst into the room and began riffling through the calendar herself.
    "Do succubi even get married?" I asked.
    "No," she said, staring at the entry I'd found. "Never."
She looked at me, eyes wild. "Let's see what else we can find."
    Grandma hurried back to the front room and I kept at it in the kitchen until
there was nowhere else to look. I'd gone through the last of Phil's junk
drawers when Grandma appeared in the doorway. "Bad news, Lizzie,"