again.
Grandma shoved the Passion Spell into my hands as Creely handed her a second jar. This one was filled greenish-brownish sludge and reminded me of a swamp I'd go out of my way to avoid. Grandma held it up proudly. "Break this jar if you want to hold off the passion. Like if you just ordered one of them pricey ten dollar hamburgers from that restaurant over there and you want to get your money's worth." She handed it to me.
I tested the lid, making sure it was sealed tight.
"Guard that," Creely said, "he's going to try and hide it."
Grandma let out a guffaw.
"Speaking of that restaurant," Dimitri said, eyeing the mansion, "I just saw them open the driveway gate. We should think about heading over."
"Wait," Grandma held up a finger. "One more treat for you tonight." She drew a small baby food jar from the leather pouch at her belt. It twinkled with a thousand tiny sparks, like trapped stars. "I just perfected this," she said holding it up and admiring her work. "It's a new and enhanced sneak spell." She winked. "In case you want to get off somewhere. Alone."
Ah, like we were about to do before she interrupted us. "This is great," I said, looping all three spells into the demon slayer utility belt at my waist. "Thanks."
"We appreciate you thinking of us." Dimitri gave Grandma a Greek double kiss on the cheeks, which must have surprised her because she started blushing.
He looked at the spells on my belt and his smile wavered. He had to be thinking about my limited success with spells in general. Still, these were simple. And they were good for us. I was sure it would all work out.
"Go have fun," Grandma said, ushering us out of camp. "Pretend we're not even here."
They'd be hard to miss. A cemetery stood between the house and us but that's not much when you're talking about biker witches. Not to mention the huge bonfire they'd started putting together.
You know what? It wasn't our problem.
Dimitri offered me his arm. "Want to go?"
I brushed a kiss along his jaw. "I do."
***
Since a hike through the cemetery wasn't my idea of a romantic time, we doubled back and walked along the road. The historic home seemed to glow in the soft evening light. I leaned close to Dimitri. Something told me tonight would be different. Fun.
I was just about to tell him so when I heard an anguished voice behind us.
"Lizzie!" It was my dog, Pirate.
Ever since I'd come into my demon slaying powers, Pirate could talk to me. It was one of the side effects.
Only those in tune with the paranormal could understand him, which included Dimitri and every biker witch on the planet.
"Hold up," Pirate said, when I had the gall to keep walking. "Stop. Don't leave me!"
He dashed up next to us like he was on fire.
My wiry Jack Russell terrier stood about as tall as my shin, but he didn't take that into account when it came to being fierce. He was mostly white, with a dollop of brown that spotted his back and covered his left eye. Hence his name.
"Pirate," I said, trying to be tactful, "this is our anniversary dinner. We can do it without you."
He turned in a circle and sat down on the dirt shoulder in front of us. "I don't understand."
"Go back," I said.
Dimitri leaned down and gave him a scratch between the ears. "The witches need you to guard their camp."
Pirate cocked his head as we made a detour around him and started walking again. "I get it," he said, following. "You're trying to keep all the steak for yourself."
"Restaurants aren't for dogs," I reminded him, as we passed through the gates and began up the winding driveway.
The weathered brick and stone had to be original. I was willing to bet the thick, gnarled oak trees on either side of the path were as old as the house. Moss clung to the trunks and dotted the lush grass. It felt like we were entering another world.
Pirate dodged around us and trotted out ahead, nose to the ground. "I think you need me more than the witches do." He sniffed at the packed
Grandma shoved the Passion Spell into my hands as Creely handed her a second jar. This one was filled greenish-brownish sludge and reminded me of a swamp I'd go out of my way to avoid. Grandma held it up proudly. "Break this jar if you want to hold off the passion. Like if you just ordered one of them pricey ten dollar hamburgers from that restaurant over there and you want to get your money's worth." She handed it to me.
I tested the lid, making sure it was sealed tight.
"Guard that," Creely said, "he's going to try and hide it."
Grandma let out a guffaw.
"Speaking of that restaurant," Dimitri said, eyeing the mansion, "I just saw them open the driveway gate. We should think about heading over."
"Wait," Grandma held up a finger. "One more treat for you tonight." She drew a small baby food jar from the leather pouch at her belt. It twinkled with a thousand tiny sparks, like trapped stars. "I just perfected this," she said holding it up and admiring her work. "It's a new and enhanced sneak spell." She winked. "In case you want to get off somewhere. Alone."
Ah, like we were about to do before she interrupted us. "This is great," I said, looping all three spells into the demon slayer utility belt at my waist. "Thanks."
"We appreciate you thinking of us." Dimitri gave Grandma a Greek double kiss on the cheeks, which must have surprised her because she started blushing.
He looked at the spells on my belt and his smile wavered. He had to be thinking about my limited success with spells in general. Still, these were simple. And they were good for us. I was sure it would all work out.
"Go have fun," Grandma said, ushering us out of camp. "Pretend we're not even here."
They'd be hard to miss. A cemetery stood between the house and us but that's not much when you're talking about biker witches. Not to mention the huge bonfire they'd started putting together.
You know what? It wasn't our problem.
Dimitri offered me his arm. "Want to go?"
I brushed a kiss along his jaw. "I do."
***
Since a hike through the cemetery wasn't my idea of a romantic time, we doubled back and walked along the road. The historic home seemed to glow in the soft evening light. I leaned close to Dimitri. Something told me tonight would be different. Fun.
I was just about to tell him so when I heard an anguished voice behind us.
"Lizzie!" It was my dog, Pirate.
Ever since I'd come into my demon slaying powers, Pirate could talk to me. It was one of the side effects.
Only those in tune with the paranormal could understand him, which included Dimitri and every biker witch on the planet.
"Hold up," Pirate said, when I had the gall to keep walking. "Stop. Don't leave me!"
He dashed up next to us like he was on fire.
My wiry Jack Russell terrier stood about as tall as my shin, but he didn't take that into account when it came to being fierce. He was mostly white, with a dollop of brown that spotted his back and covered his left eye. Hence his name.
"Pirate," I said, trying to be tactful, "this is our anniversary dinner. We can do it without you."
He turned in a circle and sat down on the dirt shoulder in front of us. "I don't understand."
"Go back," I said.
Dimitri leaned down and gave him a scratch between the ears. "The witches need you to guard their camp."
Pirate cocked his head as we made a detour around him and started walking again. "I get it," he said, following. "You're trying to keep all the steak for yourself."
"Restaurants aren't for dogs," I reminded him, as we passed through the gates and began up the winding driveway.
The weathered brick and stone had to be original. I was willing to bet the thick, gnarled oak trees on either side of the path were as old as the house. Moss clung to the trunks and dotted the lush grass. It felt like we were entering another world.
Pirate dodged around us and trotted out ahead, nose to the ground. "I think you need me more than the witches do." He sniffed at the packed
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