What to Expect When Your Demon Slayer is Expecting Read online

  Once we’d entered the main path to the garden, I tried to relax and let my supernatural compass for danger take over. A formal rose garden bloomed to our left, with stone pathways and painted white trellises. To our right, a signpost stood before three different walking paths: home gardening, native plants, and the Japanese gardens.

  I paused to consider.

  In a few moments, I felt a subtle pull to the left, toward the Japanese garden.

  “This way,” I said.

  Dimitri and Frieda flanked me on either side.

  I’d been right. The garden was crowded today. We passed several couples and families and didn’t fetch a second look. It felt kind of strange, actually.

  We passed a lovely lake, as well as a childrens’ garden and play area, then we took a left at an immense tree that had to be hundreds of years old.

  “Fairy fort,” Frieda said when I’d stared a bit long.

  I nodded to any fairies as we passed. Ant Eater had briefly dated a fairy and let us ride on the fairy paths. Aside from a haunted hotel, it had been the way to travel.

  The dappled light filtering through the trees was almost meditative, the air cooler and sweeter than late summer in Atlanta had any business feeling. But I knew better than to let myself relax.

  This was the calm before the storm.

  “We’re close,” I told my friends.

  We rounded the bend, and there it was—a sculpture like none I’d ever seen blocking our path.

  It stood as tall as a house, the head and shoulders of a woman crafted entirely from plants, her hair a cascade of blue, yellow, and purple flowers. She held her arm over a fountain, allowing a trickle of water to flow from one gently cupped hand.

  “This is too pretty to be it,” Frieda remarked. She consulted a brochure she’d grabbed by the front gate. “Earth Goddess is what they call her.”

  I believed it. She stood on a base of pink limestone engraved with flowers and climbing vines.

  “This is definitely the place.” The danger seemed to be centered around the massive sculpture, but I didn’t see anything that screamed “Look out!” in my mind.

  Frieda stood motionless. “If there’s a spell happening here, I don’t feel it.”

  Dimitri’s gaze darted over the small courtyard, as if he’d be able to unmask Philippa’s magic by sheer will.

  “Give me a second.” I focused harder on the danger, but it was like looking through an old piece of wavy glass—I couldn’t quite pin it down. “This feels like it did when I first discovered Mom on the floor of the condo.” I couldn’t get a lock on the presence swirling inside her, either.

  “This is bad.” Dimitri stepped in front of me, as if there was something to face, something to confront.

  “Lizzie!” Pirate bounded past him before I could pull him back. “Look! A magic bunny!”

  “What?” I stepped to the side and saw a rabbit on the grass, chewing placidly. I reached out with my slayer senses. It wasn’t magic. “Don’t worry about it, Pirate. It’s just a regular old bunny that probably lives in the gardens—”

  “No,” Dimitri interjected, one of his hands creeping toward his back, where he kept an enchanted bronze knife hidden beneath his jacket. “Pirate’s right. It wasn’t there a second ago.”

  I gave it a second look, and even as I watched, the bunny hopped right up to the stone base of the sculpture—

  And vanished inside it.

  “Don’t worry, Lizzie, I’ll get that rascally rabbit!”

  Before I could stop him, before I could even call his name, Pirate ran after the bunny, straight into the impenetrable base of the statue.

  And with a horrified gasp, I watched him disappear too.

  7

  “Pirate!” I ran toward the sculpture, grabbing a switch star from my utility belt. “Pirate!” I touched where he’d disappeared, and my hand sank right through the pink limestone.

  I yanked it back out.

  Was it an illusion? A portal?

  “It felt like air.” I turned to Frieda. “What is it?”

  She whistled out a breath. “I knew Philippa was good, but wow. It’s illusion magic, and I have no idea how it works.”

  Dimitri gritted his jaw. “Witches used to be put to death for it.”

  Yes, well, witches used to be killed for a lot of dumb reasons, but that was neither here nor there. My dog was gone, and he either couldn’t hear me calling him or was ignoring me in favor of chasing that darn rabbit. “We have to go after him.”

  “We will,” Frieda assured me, “but let’s be Girl Scouts about it.” She pulled a couple of Smucker’s jars out of her purse and handed them over. “Deflector spell, Paralyzing spell. They’re nice and fresh.”

  “Thanks.” I stuffed them in the satchel on my utility belt and hoped they’d work for me. The look in Dimitri’s eyes said the same thing. I didn’t always have the best luck with biker witch magic.

  My danger warning pinged hard and fast, urging me to step into whatever was on the other side of this sculpture. I straightened my back and squared my shoulders. “You ready?” I asked them.

  “Unless you want me to lead the way,” Dimitri said, obviously hoping I’d say yes.

  “No, thanks.” Pirate was my dog. I’d lead the charge.

  I took a deep breath and stepped forward into the base of the sculpture, into the leg and torso of the earth goddess.

  Energy buzzed on all sides of me, like a thousand tiny bees.

  I had expected a hollow space inside the sculpture or maybe a swirling portal that would whisk me into another dimension.

  Instead I stepped out into an immense, shaded grotto that put the regular Botanical Garden to shame. A small stone path led the way to a trickling fountain in the middle of the lush glade. Flowers bloomed in dazzling yellows, pinks, reds, and purples, the blossoms huge, the scents beautiful and rich.

  Dimitri was right behind me. “You okay?” He placed his hands on my shoulders, as if he was glad to see me in one piece.

  “I’m good,” I said. “This place is—”

  “Weird,” Dimitri finished.

  We scanned the foliage for any sign of life. “Pirate?” I called. “Where are you, buddy?”

  Insects buzzed and frogs called, but Pirate gave no response.

  Where could he be?

  Frieda ran into the back of me. “Whoops! Are we in trouble?”

  “Not yet,” I told her, venturing forward to search the shadowy underbrush.

  “Hooo-boy, look at this place!” she said. “Rosary pea, monkshood…ooh, and you see those pretty columbines?” She pointed at a flowering blue and purple plant a few feet away. “Nice, right? But those suckers will stop your heart if you eat too much of the root.”

  I frowned. “Good to know.” At least Pirate didn’t like to eat plants. I took a step farther into the magic garden. “Come on, Pirate. You leave that bunny alone and I’ll give you a Schnickerpoodle.”

  It was his favorite treat. And thanks to me confiscating a stack from a biker witch named Bob, who liked to feed them to Pirate like candy, I had a few in my utility belt. “Here’s one,” I taunted, pulling a slightly greasy, sort-of-peanut-buttery treat out of my side pocket.

  Still, Pirate didn’t appear.

  This wasn’t good.

  “Um, Lizzie…” Frieda glanced around the grotto, her brow wrinkling. “I don’t want to alarm you, but everything in this garden is poisonous. We’re definitely on Philippa’s turf.”

  Lovely. We’d been transported to a crazy witch’s secret garden whose sole purpose was death and destruction. At least we’d found her.

  “Let’s stick together,” Dimitri said grimly.

  “Right,” I said. We didn’t want to lose anyone else.

  My skin warmed as the emerald necklace between my breasts began to stir.

  I exchanged a look with Dimitri as enchanted bronze snaked up my chest and down my torso. I tried not to grimace as it encircled me completely, forming a bro
nze corset.

  “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” I remarked.

  Only this corset was much tighter than the one I’d ditched at the Gap. I peeked down my bodice and saw the teardrop-shaped jewel right between my breasts.

  “There’s no arguing with fate,” Dimitri mused.

  He ran a hand down my back and gently tapped my side with his fingernail. It made a ting sound. The breastplate covered me from my throat to my hips.

  Back when we first met, Dimitri gave me an emerald pendant on a bronze chain. It was more than a piece of jewelry, though—it was spelled with defensive magic and transformed to become whatever I needed when I was in danger.

  Apparently in this case, it thought I needed not to be able to bend over.

  “Huh.” I didn’t usually get this much coverage from the necklace. The emerald gleamed brightly from the metal corset, a comfort and a warning all at once. “Okay. We’ll stick together.”

  We still had to find my dog.

  The grotto wasn’t that large, but the foliage was thicker than shag carpet once you tried to leave the path. With Frieda cheerfully identifying all kinds of unpleasant plants—“Poison ivy! Belladonna! Water hemlock!”—it seemed safer not to risk tramping around in the undergrowth. But where was Pirate?

  “Pirate!” I called, wishing I could spot even a glimpse of him. “Pirate, talk to me!” We walked around the fountain in the center of the place and toward the far side. My danger sense started going off like crazy, and I stopped in my tracks.

  “What is it?” Dimitri drew his dagger.

  “I’m not sure…” My senses homed in on a shady section right in front of us. A huge, thick-stalked plant rose almost ten feet into the air, crowned with a bright red flower that smelled suspiciously like rotting flesh. White orchids clustered at the base, and in front of them, growling under his breath, was—

  “Pirate!” I ran forward, but slowed once I realized that the orchids were moving, swaying hypnotically back and forth in front of my dog. “Pirate?” He stood transfixed, clearly unhappy but just as clearly unable to do anything about it.

  “Cobra orchids,” Frieda whispered. “I’ve never seen this many in one place before.”

  Fudruckers. “Are they poisonous too?”

  “Venomous, more likely,” she said under her breath. Pirate wavered, and one of the little flowers hissed at him. “Yep, see the fangs?” Frieda prodded.

  I did see the fangs. I didn’t want to see them, but I did.

  My poor dog.

  “We don’t want to startle ’em into striking,” Frieda instructed. “This would be a good time for that Paralyzing spell, Lizzie.”

  “Right.” I carefully drew a brown, murky spell from my belt and opened the top. The spell lumped sluggishly in the bottom of the jar—well, it was a Paralyzing spell; I’d have been suspicious if it had been jumping around. I took careful aim and tossed the contents at the cobra orchids.

  Hissssss! Their striped hoods flared all at once. One of them turned to snap at Pirate, but wilted before it could reach him.

  My dog shook his head like he was coming out of a nap. “Lizzie?”

  I hurried to him and scooped him into my arms, awkwardly, thanks to the darn breastplate. “Pirate, sweetie! Are you okay?”

  He yawned and snuggled close. “Oh sure! I was just following the magic bunny, but then I heard a new sound, and when I came over to check it out…” He tilted his head, ears flapping. “I stopped hearing anything at all.”

  “Oh, jeez.” We needed to find Philippa and get the heck out of here. The scent of rot was getting stronger, and I resisted the urge to gag.

  “Oooh, Lizzie.” Pirate strained out of my grip. “Do you smell that?” He turned in a circle. “There’s something delicious around here. Or at least something fun to roll in.”

  “There’s something disgusting around here, and you—” All of a sudden my danger sense lit up. I reacted instinctively, grabbing Pirate and jumping backward. At the same time, the enormous red blossom of the plant just behind the orchids slammed down on the ground exactly where Pirate had been a moment ago.

  “What the—” I had never seen a plant move that fast. I didn’t have time to gape, either—two long, thick leaves shot out toward us, one of them striking at Dimitri while the other slashed at me. He parried with his knife while I turned my back and felt the leaf ricochet off my armor.

  I put Pirate down fast and poured Frieda’s defensive spell over him. It stuck to his fur like bubblegum, but it would help him evade attacks. “Stay back!” I shouted before quickly turning and throwing a switch star straight at the plant’s heavy stalk. I expected to cut it cleanly in two.

  Instead, my switch star bounced right back to me.

  How in the heck did a weapon that could kill a demon get confounded by a murderous plant? I tried again, this time aiming for the flower itself.

  Heavy green leaves closed around the bright red petals before my switch star could impact. As it came back to me, the flower reopened and lowered itself to face us. What I’d taken to be decorative fringes on the edges of the petals looked more like fangs at close range and would probably cut like them too.

  Frieda cast a Molotov Cocktail spell into the heart of the blossom. Fire erupted, and I thought for sure the whole thing would go up in flames. Instead, the center of the flower belched out a torrent of thick, creamy sap, smothering the burn in a heartbeat. The sap rolled out of the blossom and down the stalk, effectively ending our chances of burning it.

  The leaves lashed out again, and one of them caught me square in the stomach. It knocked me onto my back, and I had to roll quickly to the side to avoid being pinned by the next strike.

  “Lizzie!” Dimitri turned to help me, which left him open to attack. The leaf struck at his head, leaving a bleeding gash across his cheekbone. Its next strike ripped the knife from his hand.

  “Dimitri!” I tried to roll to my feet, but the flowing flower dress and the damn breastplate made getting up way harder than it should have been.

  Frieda threw a spell I’d never seen before. It let loose a howling wind that tore the limp cobra orchids out by the roots, but the attacking plant just curled its leaves and petals in tight for the worst of the gust. As it faded, they shook themselves out and struck again.

  “Eek!” Frieda tried to dance out of range of the leaves, another spell jar at the ready, but the plant swept down toward her feet and grabbed her ankle. She fell to the ground with a gasp, and the leaf began to reel her in. I reached for her, pulling another switch star even though the first one hadn’t done any good.

  With a low growl, my husband’s familiar form morphed into an immense lion’s body. The ground shook and eagle’s wings sprouted from his back. Purple, blue, red and green feathers exploded into being, filling the air above us as he splayed his wings out like a shield. He leapt forward and pounced on the plant with a shrill battle cry.

  The leaves closed protectively around the blossom, but Dimitri’s sharp claws rent at it relentlessly even as his heavy weight bore the plant to the ground. It tried to bash him off with its leaves, but he knocked every attempt aside with his wings, clawing like a wild animal.

  Bit by bit, the plant seemed to weaken. Thank heaven! Its stalk sagged farther toward the ground. We were winning! At this rate, Dimitri would end it in less than a minute.

  Only Ant Eater had warned us about stepping on a single living flower. And we’d already decimated the cobra orchids.

  “Dimitri,” I called breathlessly, struggling to my feet.

  He paused, one paw still raised. The plant quivered feebly beneath him. “Don’t kill it,” I said, helping Frieda to her feet. “Just—just sit on it for a moment, okay?”

  “Honey.” Frieda’s shoulders sagged, and she fought for breath. “It tried to kill us first, remember?”

  I shook my head. “It was acting on instinct, the way any creature would. If we kill it, we’ll never get the chance to talk to Philipp
a.”

  I heard a low cackle behind us. “Good instincts, slayer.”

  Frieda and I whirled around to see a woman walking down the far side of the path toward us. She was tiny and round, and her face reminded me of a wrinkled winter apple. Her white hair flared out from her head like a crown, and she wore a brown pair of overalls and thick green wellies on her feet. She stopped a few feet from us and crossed her arms.

  “It seems you’re not as dumb as most of the people who want something from me.”

  “Maybe we’re just stopping by for a visit,” I told her.

  She snorted derisively. “Oh please. No one who goes to the trouble of finding my garden does it for the sake of a cup of tea, now do they?” She turned and scowled at Dimitri. “Let Calvin up, for Christ’s sake. I believe you’ve made your point.”

  Dimitri growled again, but moved off. A moment later he had transformed back into my husband, his face still bleeding from the plant’s attack.

  “Maybe you’d get more visitors if you didn’t sic your enormous man-eating plant on them,” he snapped, wiping his cheek. He reached for me and I ran to him. “Lizzie, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said with complete honesty. The breastplate had absorbed every one of the plant’s attacks, and apart from a little residual queasiness I chalked up to the awful smell, I felt good. “But you’re not.”

  Philippa the Strange rolled her eyes. “The lad’s a griffin; he’ll be healed up in an hour. But here.” She drew a tin out of her pocket and tossed it to me. “This salve’ll speed things up.”

  Dimitri gingerly touched the wound on his head, drawing bloody fingers back. “You expect me to trust anything you give us after your plant tried to kill us?”

  “You brought a dog into my garden. What did you expect?” she retorted. “Calvin usually knows better than to start things with people, but dogs are a whole other issue. Do you know how much damage a dog could do in here? Besides, Calvin was hungry. He didn’t get to munch on the rabbit I lured in here for him because someone scared it away.”