The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers by Angie Fox Page B

Grandma beat a path for a row of slot
machines decked out to look like rejects from a gypsy caravan. She stopped in
front of a particularly gaudy machine, shellacked with glittering purple paint.
Play Forever. Stay Forever
, the sign on top beckoned.
    Oh please. I realized we were in Vegas, but nervous energy or not, Grandma
should've known we didn't have time for this. I was about to enlighten her when
my demon slayer instincts jolted me again.
    I glanced around the casino. A huddle of fifty-somethings eyeballed the
latest turn of a roulette wheel, while dealers wearing pink bow ties flipped
crisp playing cards onto blackjack tables. Slot machine patrons, like lone
rangers, manned their stations. I felt uneasy, like I should be seeing
something I wasn't.
    Whatever this was, it didn't want to kill us, at least not right now. But it
felt altogether wrong at the same time.
    Grandma lined her hand up with the bejeweled gypsy hand on top of a crystal
ball. The slot machine clanged to life, clanking and spinning until its picture
wheels rested on two moonstone rings and a black cat.
    It spit out two topaz blue cards. The hotel's key cards, I realized, as
Grandma handed me one.
    "Son of a gun," I said as she shoved the other card into her back
pocket. Another good thing to add to
The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers
—how
to check into your basic magical hotel. I didn't understand how anyone could be
expected to just know this sort of thing.
    "At least while we're waiting, we'll have time to work on Phil,"
Grandma said.
    "What do you mean? Unplug him from the she-demon?"
    Grandma nodded.
    I didn't even know we could do that.
    Well good. I reached out and gave him a comforting rub on the arm. I
couldn't help worrying about him. Besides, his close ties to Serena the demon
wouldn't exactly enable us to travel incognito.
    "Something's not right," Phil said, furrowing his bushy brows
together. "Or is it me?"
    I was trying to decide on a nice way to put it when I noticed the absence of
a certain furry companion. "Where's Pirate?"
    "He said you'd be okay with him wandering."
    "He lied," I said, annoyed with Phil (and myself) for losing track
of my dog.
    I spotted Pirate down .an aisle of island-themed slots and scooped him up.
    "Hey now!" He craned his head back as I beat a hasty retreat with
him. "I was only stretching my legs after the long ride over here. I mean,
you did strap me into that pet carrier and you know I don't like being strapped
down. My fur's smashed and I got bugs up my nose."
    "Not now." Something was wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on
it, but I didn't want to stick around the lobby any longer than we had to.
    "Elevator's this way," Grandma said, glancing behind us. We
followed her toward the row of golden elevator doors.
    "We'll be safer once we hit the magical floor," Grandma said,
corralling our odd little party into the elevator.
    I hoped she was right.
    The doors eased together, trapping us as the elevator jerked and began its
slow climb.
    The presence grew stronger, even as the doors opened onto our floor. I took
a deep breath and stepped out.
    A pair of beige wingback chairs flanked a glossy brown table. On top of it
lay fancy-looking books that were probably glued down. Sprigs of lavender, dry
and lifeless, huddled in a plain glass vase. I didn't feel magic. Only evil.
    Phil drew a lavender stem from the vase and tucked it into his jacket
pocket, like he didn't have a care in the world.
    "Come on, kids." Grandma led us down a seemingly endless hallway.
We passed a normal-looking couple and their three (presumably) human children,
off to the pool it seemed.
    "What are they?" I asked Grandma, but she was several feet ahead
of us, and making good time.
    "New Yorkers," she called back to me.
    "Oh," I said, eyeing the back of the man's shirt. Red curling
script read:
Famous Ray's Original Pizza
.
    I hoped Grandma knew what we were doing.
    "I need to call Serena," Phil murmured, rubbing his ring finger.
    "You