Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb

by Lexi George

  “You are the monster from the roof?” Grim’s sword appeared in his hand. “How did you get past the shield?”

  “I was hiding in the bushes when you put it up. Nice spell work, by the way.”

  “You lie. I would have sensed your presence.”

  “Had a lot of dealings with demonoids?”

  “None.” Grim’s grip tightened on the sword hilt. “I knew not of their existence until today.”

  Evan crossed his arms. A lone tattoo encircled one toned bicep. C-o-o-k-i-e, the black and gray letters read. The name of an old girlfriend or Evan’s favorite food? Sassy wondered.

  “There you go,” he said. “You didn’t know what to look for.”

  “A varlet skulks in the shrubbery. You should have made yourself known forthwith.”

  “I was nuts out and you were waving a sword around. Makes a guy cautious, if you know what I mean.”

  Sassy hopped off the bar stool. “There, you see? He explained everything. Put the sword away, Grim. Please, before I have hysterics.”

  Grim growled—he actually growled—but the sword vanished.

  “Thanks, Lollipop,” Evan said. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Her ankle is fine,” Grim said. “I healed her.”

  Evan shrugged. “Don’t thump yourself on the back too hard. Most supers heal fast.”

  “I am not—” Sassy began.

  “Yeah, babe. You are. Deal.”

  Deal with it how? Sassy shoved the thought aside. “How did you know where to find us?”

  “Didn’t—came here once with Trey. Figured it was empty and thought I’d crash for a while. I wasn’t thinking too clearly, to tell you the truth. Running on rage, mostly.” Evan looked around the kitchen and sniffed. “Something smells good. What’s for eats?”

  “It is called ‘Hamburger Helper.’” Grim’s tone was surly. “Though, in truth, the label is a misnomer, for it was no help at all.”

  Evan rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. I’m starved.”

  “Alas, I fear the sting of hunger is doomed to sharpen, for you will not be staying.”

  “That so?” Evan smirked. “How ’bout it, Sweet Cheeks? He calling the shots around here, or you?”

  “You can stay.”

  “Sassy, you know nothing of this man,” Grim said with a glower.

  “I know he came back for me. He could have left me for the witch.”

  “Yeah,” Evan chimed in. “I could’ve left—”

  “No,” Grim said. “He is dangerous.”

  “So are you,” Sassy shot back. “At least I know what to expect from him. You—not so much.”

  Grim’s expression tightened. “I am Dalvahni, a defender of the Light. I have sworn to protect you. What more do you need to know?”

  “I know I wouldn’t be in this fix in the first place if you hadn’t left me.”

  “He is demon bred.” Grim stepped closer, his golden eyes ablaze. “You cannot trust him. You have seen what he can do.”

  “According to your brother, I’m part demon, too.”

  “Perhaps, but you are no monster.”

  “You don’t know what I am.”

  “Sassy, I do not—”

  She turned to Evan. “You’re welcome to spend the night . . . unless you’d rather stay with your sister?”

  Evan shook his head. “Things with the fam are awkward right now. I’ll stay here.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Sassy held up her hand as Grim started to speak. “I understand if you want to leave, Grim. Things being the way they are.”

  “What things?”

  Evan gave Grim a mocking smile. “She’s saying you’re a demon hunter, bro, and we’re demonoids. Dogs and cats, living together, know what I mean? If anyone goes, it ought to be you.”

  “What of the witch? Is she dead?”

  “Nah, your brother screwed the pooch on that one. One look at him, and she took off. I got the impression the two of them go way back, if you catch my drift.” Evan’s face tightened. “But the witch and I aren’t done, not by a long shot.”

  “And Sassy?”

  “Sassy will be fine,” Sassy said. “It’s one night.” She was starting to sound like a broken record. “As soon as I reschedule my meeting with the lawyer, I am out of here.”

  “Perhaps you are right.” Grim walked over to the stove and lifted the lid from the skillet. “Shall we eat?”

  Grim was leaving? Sure, she’d said Evan could stay, but would it kill the guy to protest a little? What if Evan morphed out again? And the witch was still out there somewhere. Didn’t Grim care?

  Apparently not. Feeling decidedly cross, she dumped some of the noodle concoction into a bowl and took a seat at the farm table in the breakfast nook.

  Grim handed her a glass and straddled one of the chairs. “I fear there is naught to drink in this abode but water.”

  It was clear from his tone he considered this a sorry state of affairs.

  “Too bad.” Evan opened the empty fridge and peered inside. “I could use a beer.”

  Grim grunted in agreement and turned his attention to his food. He’d bypassed the regular soup bowls for a two-quart mixing bowl. He was a big guy with a large appetite.

  Evan was digging around in the freezer drawer. With a shout of triumph, he held up a gallon plastic container by the handle.

  “Vanilla ice cream for the masses,” he announced. “People, we have dessert.”

  Setting the carton on the counter, he disappeared into the walk-in pantry and started moving things around on the shelves.

  “Canned peaches, tuna, and Spam,” he said, his voice muffled. “Ha, chocolate syrup. Now we’re talking.”

  Strolling out of the pantry, Evan plunked a family-size bottle of Hershey’s syrup on the counter. He ladled a mound of casserole onto a plate and scraped a chair up to the table.

  Sassy handed him a paper napkin from the decorative holder and took a tentative bite of the noodles.

  “Not bad,” she said. “I’ve never had Hamburger Helper.”

  Evan was coating his food with black pepper. He paused, shaker in midair, to stare at her in disbelief. “Never had Hamburger Helper? I live on this shit. That and ramen noodles and instant mac.”

  “My mother won’t allow processed food in the house.” Mama would also refuse to dine with a shirtless man, but that was another kettle of fish. Sassy speared some noodles with her fork. “Uncle Gaudy would turn in his apron if he could see me now.”

  “Uncle Gaudy?”

  “Gaudet Rochat, our chef.”

  “You got your own chef? How rich are you, Lollipop?”

  “Rich enough.” Sassy showed him her dimples. “‘A Jerkins gherkin has more zest.’ ”

  “You’re Jerkins Pickles?”

  “No, my mother is. Her grandfather started the business.”

  Evan gave a low whistle. “You’re a frigging heiress. Marry me. I promise to help you spend your money.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir, for the offer.” Sassy batted her eyelashes at him. “But I’m already engaged.”

  “Damn. What’s his name again? I can’t remember.”

  “Wesley Bodiford.”

  “Wesley?” Evan made a face. “Sounds like a numb nuts.”

  Sassy set her fork down with clank. “He is not a . . . a . . . what you said. Wesley’s from a very good family.”

  “You marrying him or his family?”

  “Both.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Of course.”

  Grim lifted his head, his eyes chips of topaz ice. “Enough. There will be no further discussion of this Wesley.”

  “You weren’t discussing him. Sassy and I were.”

  “Nevertheless, this talk will cease.”

  “What’s the matter, Big ’Un, you jealous?”

  “My name is Grim.”

  “Whatever.” Evan winked at Sassy. “Notice he didn’t answer my question.”

  Sassy finished
her meal and stifled a yawn. The day was catching up with her. She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and sleep for a hundred years. When she woke, she’d be home. This would be a dream. Parts of it a really nice dream, but a dream all the same.

  Evan wadded up his napkin and threw it on his plate. “Who wants ice cream?”

  Sugar. Sassy straightened in her chair, weariness forgotten. “I’d love some.”

  “Chocolate syrup?” Evan asked.

  Sassy’s mouth watered. “Oh, yes, please.”

  “Big ’Un?”

  “My name is not—”

  “You want the damn ice cream or not?”

  “To my knowledge, I have never ingested the substance.”

  “Never eaten—” Evan shook his head. “You people.”

  Evan scooped ice cream into three bowls and drizzled chocolate on each serving.

  He set a bowl in front of Grim and handed him a spoon. “Knock yourself out.”

  Grim seemed momentarily nonplussed by this remark, but quickly recovered. Digging his spoon into the pale frozen mound, he took a large bite.

  His brows shot up in surprise. “It is cold.”

  “No shit,” Evan said. “Thus the name.”

  “An appropriate appellation.” Picking up the Hershey’s bottle, Grim squirted more syrup into his bowl. “This chocolate is something quite out of the ordinary.”

  “Food for the gods,” Sassy agreed, diving into her dessert.

  The sugar rushed from her stomach and into her bloodstream with the one-two punch of a powerful narcotic, enveloping her in a woozy haze of feel-good. Grim was humming. Emptying his bowl, he picked up the Hershey’s container and drained the remaining contents into his mouth.

  Sassy collapsed in a fit of giggles. “Grim really likes chocolate.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Evan asked, giving her a sharp look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were high.”

  “Me?” Sassy widened her eyes at him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Uh-huh. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Sassy squinted. “Four.”

  “Bonk,” Evan said. “Wrong answer.”

  Grim burst into song. His deep, throbbing baritone shot through Sassy, leaving her warm and tingly.

  “Oh, my,” she said.

  Evan stared at Grim. “What the hell?”

  “He’s singing.” Sassy sighed. “It makes me think about sex. And not with Wes.”

  “Good God,” Evan said.

  There was a rap at the window.

  “Look,” Sassy cried, leaping to her feet.

  A parliament of owls lined the sills, their beaks pressed against panes. Behind the birds, a wide-eyed menagerie of wild animals stared at them through the glass.

  Sassy danced around the kitchen, too excited to sit still. The hem of Trey’s robe swirled around her ankles.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said. “Like a Disney movie.”

  “Adorable.” Evan made a grab for her and missed. “Sit down, Sassy, before you break yourself.”

  “Every party has a pooper, that’s why we invited you,” Sassy sang, twirling faster. “Party pooper. Party pooper.”

  The temperature plummeted and a black-haired man materialized in the room. Sassy froze in mid-spin, her sugar high evaporating faster than a slushie on a hot sidewalk.

  Tall and powerfully built, the stranger’s harshly beautiful face was cold and stern. Though dressed in modern clothes, there was an unmistakable aura of danger, authority, and icy control about him.

  Grim shut his mouth and stared at the newcomer in surprise. “Conall, what brings you here?”

  “Duncan told me of your arrival. It is good to hear you sing again, brother. I have not had that pleasure since Gryffin died.” The warrior’s unyielding black gaze found Evan. “Though I must confess I am surprised to find you in the company of this troublemaker.”

  “You shouldn’t call people names,” Sassy said. “It isn’t polite.”

  The warrior’s stony regard shifted to her. “The troublemaker has a champion. What is your name, woman?”

  “I’m Sassy Peterson, and I can’t have sex with anyone but Wes. Ever. Again.”

  Sassy crumpled to the floor and burst into tears.

  Chapter Nine

  Gryff. The familiar pain seared Grim. His hand went to the medallion at his throat. Closing his eyes, he saw again the blood-laced water and his brother’s mutilated body sweeping over the falls.

  Grim had scoured the river for days, searching for some sign of Gryff. He found nothing but the necklace.

  My fault. Gryff’s death is on my head.

  It was a familiar litany, one Grim had repeated countless times over the centuries.

  Soft sobbing penetrated his fog of grief and self-loathing. When he opened his eyes, his bleary gaze went to the woebegone figure on the floor.

  Grim leaped to his feet. “Sassy? You are hurt?”

  The floor pitched and rolled beneath his feet. He grabbed the back of a chair for support. What ailed him? His legs were as wobbly as a new colt’s.

  “Sad.” The hitch in Sassy’s voice tore Grim’s heart. “Make it stop. I don’t like it.”

  Stumbling across the room, Grim scooped her into his arms, no easy feat when the room swam around him. He sat down in a chair and settled Sassy in his lap.

  “Do not be frightened,” he said. “It will pass. I am certain of it.”

  Sassy blinked up at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “H-how do you know?”

  Unable to resist, Grim caught a sparkling droplet with the pad of his thumb. “Logic. You are bound to run out of water sooner or later.”

  Sassy hiccupped in surprise and chuckled, and, like that, the storm was over.

  “Thank God.” Evan shoved a napkin at her. “Don’t cry, Lollipop. I don’t like it.”

  She blew her nose. “I don’t, either. I must look awful. Is my nose red?”

  Grim tilted her chin and peered at her. “Yes. Both of them.”

  “Both?”

  “Some strange witchery is afoot,” Grim said. “I see two of everything.”

  “You’re sloshed,” Evan said. “You two had a party without me.”

  Sloshed? Grim’s befuddled brain tried to process the strange term and failed. It was hard to think with Sassy’s flowery scent invading his senses.

  Sloshed is an informal term used to indicate the state of inebriety. The Provider’s dry voice filled Grim’s head. Humans use an astonishing variety of words to describe the condition. My personal favorite is “worshipping the porcelain goddess,” a rather amusing description of vomiting, involuntary spasms that allow humans to eject matter from the stomach when they imbibe too much alcohol.

  “There must be some mistake.” Grim shook his head. He regretted it at once, for the room spun. “The Dal do not know sickness, nor are we affected by drugs or alcohol. And what of Sassy? She is under the same spell.”

  “Sugar,” Sassy murmured, resting her head on Grim’s shoulder. “Fairies.”

  With a drowsy sigh, she relaxed against him and went to sleep.

  Grim stilled. A surge of lust hit him, hard and fierce. Sassy smelled delightful, a dizzying combination of summer roses and female. Curling tendrils of her hair lifted to caress his jaw, like flowers reaching for the sun.

  I am her sword and shield. The vow rose unbidden in his mind. Here and now I vow to protect her, from anyone or anything that threatens her.

  An admirable sentiment, I am sure, the Provider said, but hardly necessary. She leaves tomorrow, and you return to the hunt. That is good, is it not?

  Yes, of course.

  Then why the hollow ache in his chest?

  “Brother, have you perchance ingested a thing called chocolate?” Conall asked.

  Evan waved the empty syrup container in the air. “Muh duh. He slugged down a jug in one sitting.”

  “That explains it,” Conall
said. “The Dal are susceptible to chocolate. Fortunately, the effects do not last long due to our accelerated healing abilities.”

  “Maybe, but he’s gonna have a mother of a hangover.” Evan threw his head back and laughed. “Demon hunters can’t handle their chocolate. That’s frigging priceless.”

  Conall gave him a cold look. “You will keep this information to yourself, if you value your health.”

  Evan stiffened. “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It is a promise.”

  “Whatever.”

  Evan stomped over to Grim. “Give her to me. I’ll put Sassy to bed.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be an ass. You’re loaded. You’ll drop her.”

  “I will not drop her.”

  Evan made an exasperated gesture.

  “Do something with him,” he said to Conall. “Tell the big galoot she’s safer with me.”

  “As Rebekah was safe with you?” Conall’s voice was soft and deadly. “I think not.”

  Evan shot him a look of dislike. “You think I wanted to hurt her? I had no choice.”

  “There is always a choice.”

  “Fuck you,” Evan said. “You don’t know dick about it.”

  He stalked from the kitchen and slammed the front door behind him.

  Evan paused at the top of the porch steps, his old companion rage surging through his veins like acid. Survive or die; those had been his choices. He learned the hard way early on to look out for Numero Uno.

  No one else would, for damn sure.

  His muscles shifted and burned. Skin stretched. Bones and sinews expanded. Damn, he was hulking out again. He examined his hands. They were already twice their normal size, the nails lengthening into black claws. He’d better slow his roll or the monster would bust loose. The change had been hell, both ways.

  Like he didn’t have enough to deal with without shifting into a no-brain goon with the temper of a pissed-off rhino.

  Damn that witch. He would fix her for doing this to him. Home skillet was done taking shit off people.

  He leaped off the porch and sprinted around the house, taking care to keep inside the shimmering spell line. Didn’t want to fry his ass; demon hunter magic was powerful stuff. Besides, he wasn’t leaving Sassy. She was some kind of special. He’d known it the minute he laid eyes on her. She was a supercharged antidepressant in a very shapely package. Feel-good and well-being poured off her. She was the smell of fresh-baked cookies, pound cake, and homemade bread. She was the holidays and celebrations he’d never had; the proms and homecoming dances he didn’t attend; the pep rallies and ballgames he’d missed out on.