Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb

by Lexi George

  I would like that very much. Do you think Grim will object?

  So what if he does? You have free will.

  The Provider was silent.

  Hello?

  You pose an interesting philosophical question, one that I have given much thought. Do I have free will? What makes one “real”?

  Of course you’re real. You’re not a solid, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a person. If you want to change your name, change it.

  You are remarkable, Sassy Peterson.

  I think you’re pretty special, too.

  I am partial to the name Dell. The Provider sounded wistful. It means “wise and stalwart servant” in the Gorthian language. I think it apt, given the adventures Grim and I have shared.

  Dell is a lovely name.

  And totally appropriate; the Provider was the closest thing to an oracle she’d ever met.

  Then Dell it is.

  Um, Dell?

  Yes, my new and delightful friend?

  Are thralls as beautiful as Grim says?

  I am not a good judge of such things, being a nonphysical entity, but they have the requisite parts to engage in coitus. The Dal seem to find them satisfactory.

  Oh. Does Grim find them satisfactory, too?

  Grim does not avail himself of the House of Pleasure according to the precepts of the Directive, though I have oft urged him to do so. Why do you ask?

  No particular reason. How long has it been since Grim last visited—

  A tremendous blast jerked Sassy from her dream state. She was sitting in Grim’s lap. Some of her sugar high had faded, but Grim’s eyes were still bloodshot. He had the sluggish, dazed look of a frat boy waking up after a homecoming kegger.

  “Goodness gracious grandma, what was that noise?” Sassy said.

  “I do not know.” Grim’s speech was as fuzzy as his expression.

  There was another loud crash from the woods near the house, followed by a howl of pain. Conall drew his sword. The weapon looked serviceable, if inelegant. Sassy had no doubt Conall knew how to use it.

  “That sounded like a dragon,” Conall said. “Stay here. I will slay it.”

  “Witch. Kill witch.”

  The thunderous cry came from outside.

  “That’s not a dragon.” Sassy tried to scramble from Grim’s lap; he held on. “That’s Evan.”

  Conall’s black eyes narrowed. “Evan? Are you certain?”

  “Positive. He can’t help it. The witch did something to him. She had him cooped up in a shed. I fell through the roof and helped him escape.”

  Sassy pushed against Grim’s arm. “Let go. Evan’s my friend. He needs my help.”

  “No,” Grim said.

  No? No?

  Sassy’s blood pressure shot into overload. A burning sensation sizzled through her veins. The fire in her veins spread until she glowed like a melting furnace.

  She evaporated in a burst of multicolored sparkles.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grim sneezed and scattered fairy dust across the kitchen. He looked down at his empty lap. But a moment past, he’d held a fetching bundle of feminine charm. His head whirled from the combined effects of chocolate and magic.

  He looked around in confusion. “Where is Sassy?”

  “She dispersed,” Conall said. “She is fae?”

  “Aye.” Grim shook his head to clear it. A mistake; it made the dizziness worse. “She freed a troop of fairies from a witch. She was . . . changed in the process.”

  “The lady seems an active sort.”

  “You have no notion. Did you happen to see where she went?”

  “Outside, would be my guess.”

  “What?” Grim leaped to his feet. “Why did you not stop her?”

  “How could I, pray tell, when you could not?”

  Grim swore and lurched from the kitchen, down the hall, and threw open the front door. The shield spell he’d erected with such care had been ripped to shreds. Tattered strands of the magical web fluttered in the breeze. Trees had been uprooted and tossed about. Ugly tears gouged the forest floor.

  Sassy stood in the midst of the destruction. A petite figure robed in white, she faced Monster Evan. Cinders of light shot from her lambent body and waving curls. Evan was naked. Larger than a mountain troll with thick grayish skin, his arms and legs were muscled tree trunks. In one massive hand, he clasped a broken tree like a weapon.

  Terror squeezed Grim’s heart and lungs. One slip of the makeshift club, one misstep by the monster, and Sassy would be crushed.

  Behind him, he heard Conall hiss in surprise. “By the sword, is that Evan? If so, he is much changed.”

  The monster turned with a startled grunt at the sound of Conall’s voice. His liquid black gaze passed over Grim and Conall standing on the front porch, and moved on.

  The creature’s vision was poor. Grim would use the weakness to advantage and whisk Sassy from harm’s way.

  “Stay where you are, both of you.” Sassy spoke in a lilting singsong. “If you move, you’ll startle him. Evan won’t hurt me, will you, Evan?”

  Evan swung the tree like a mace. “Ebban break woods. Break woods plenty. Witch no get Sass.”

  “You were brilliant.” Sassy shone like a miniature sun against the black shadow of the woods. “You chased that bad old witch away.”

  “Witch run.” Evan slammed the tree into the ground. “Ebban chase ’way.”

  Grim tensed. “Conall?”

  “I do not think the creature means the lady harm. To the contrary, he seems inordinately fond of her.”

  Fond? The behemoth was captivated; the knowledge soured Grim’s stomach.

  Sassy murmured something, and Evan bent closer. Grim strained to hear what she was saying, but her words were spoken too softly, her tone too tender, for him to hear.

  Something hot and uncomfortable unfurled inside him. Grim wanted Sassy’s words and the soothing balm of her voice for himself. No one else.

  Sassy kept her tone low and gentle. Evan rocked back and forth on his boulder-sized feet, lulled by the melodic drone. The titan’s grip on the crude bludgeon grew slack, and the tree hit the ground with a thud.

  Grim’s insides unknotted but half a turn. One danger gone, but Sassy could still be trampled beneath the giant’s heel or torn to pieces like a cloth doll.

  By the sword, the lady needed taking in hand. Never, in the aftermath of a thousand battles, had he been so exhausted or rattled. Rules were in order. Hard and fast rules with severe consequences if broken. First and foremost, Sassy would consort with Evan no more. The demonoid was too dangerous and unpredictable.

  With a coo of delight, Sassy patted the behemoth on the foot. Her shining form blazed brighter. The glow spread from her body to Evan’s and traveled with the swiftness of Greek fire. Evan bawled like a wounded bullock and dwindled to his former shape and size.

  Conall clapped Grim on the shoulder. “There, you see? Beauty has tamed the beast.”

  Grim leaped off the porch, stumbling as he landed. Kehv’s toenails, how long before this infernal chocolate ran its course? Regaining his balance, he reeled through the hole in the shield wall. He wanted to shake Sassy senseless.

  He wanted to snatch her close and never let her go.

  Evan was curled in a shivering knot on the ground. Dark burns covered his pale skin where he’d burst through the shield.

  Sassy knelt beside him. She looked up at Grim with tears in her eyes. “He’s hurt. We’ve got to help him.”

  She wept for him, for Evan. The hot ugliness in Grim’s belly bloomed and spread, setting his brain ablaze. The unfamiliar feeling shocked him.

  A Dalvahni did not yield to time, weather, or foe. A Dalvahni warrior was detached; remote as the mountains of the moon. These things were set in stone, the foundation of his race. A Dalvahni warrior was not controlled by emotion.

  You are jealous, the Provider said. I am curious. What does it feel like?

  Grim snarled. “Find out for yourse
lf, if you would know.”

  Conall gave Grim an odd look. “Find out what? Are you well?”

  “Yes.” Grim took an unsteady step toward the injured man. “I will carry Evan inside.”

  “Nay.” Conall gestured and Evan floated off the ground. “The lady and I will see to Evan. You put the shield to rights.”

  Grim scowled. “Sassy stays. I would speak with her.”

  “And so you shall anon.”

  Evan’s body wafted across the lawn and through the open door. Sassy hurried after him.

  “But I—”

  Conall paused at the top of the steps. “Your choler is high. You are pixilated on chocolate and fairy dust.” The captain’s hard mouth twitched in something close to a smile. “Perhaps the night air will clear your head. If not, there is always the river.”

  The captain went inside. The door closed behind him.

  Grim might be sow drunk but he knew an order when he heard one.

  “Choler?” He looked up at the stars and shook his fist. “I challenge the very gods to spend a day with that woman and not yield to distemper.”

  Grim straightened with a grimace. His head was awhirl. Weaving across the lawn, he set to work rebuilding the shield, pouring his frustration and worry into the task.

  Evan’s naked form bobbed in the vaulted foyer. Sassy hovered in the doorway, unsure what to do. The skin around his burns was black and curled, the raw flesh beneath exposed. He must be in terrible pain.

  He opened his eyes. The gooey black had disappeared from the sclera. His irises were still black.

  “I take back what I said about do-gooders.” Evan gave Sassy a crooked grin. “Glad you got fairy spunked.”

  “What do you—”

  Sassy gasped. Evan’s burns healed before her eyes.

  He stretched. “I heal pretty fast, but not like this.”

  Sassy blushed and fixed her attention on the black iron chandelier. She would be blasé and cool. Cosmopolitan.

  She would not notice the splendid naked guy levitating above her head like a sexed-up genie.

  Evan folded his arms behind his head. “Now I know why the witch was distilling the little glitter gnats. Fairy juice is strong shit.”

  Conall strode inside and closed the door. “Feeling better, Beck?”

  “Why, were you worried about me?”

  “Overcome with anxiety. I wept.”

  Evan grinned. “You’d better let me down. We’re shocking the Lollipop. Don’t think they free ball it in high society.”

  “Ralph Vandergalt got tipsy and streaked the Camellia Ball the year I was a debutante,” Sassy said. “He didn’t get invited back the next year.”

  “There, you see, bro?” Evan said. “None of the best people go nuts out.”

  “A category from which you are excluded. And I am not your ‘bro.’”

  Conall gestured and Evan fell to the floor. He landed in a crouch like a big cat.

  “Thanks.” Evan got to his feet. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll clean up. Mind spotting me some more of Trey’s clothes, Lolly?”

  “Help yourself. No one else is using them.”

  “You’re a peach.”

  Evan sauntered out of the room. The front door hit the wall and Grim stalked inside. His golden eyes were bleary and his skin had a waxen sheen.

  He raised his hand and pointed at Sassy. “You.” Grim swayed. “You and I will talk. Now.”

  Not “we need to talk” or “Sassy, I would like to have a word with you, please.” Oh, no, Mr. Douchey Pants ordered her around like she was a child.

  Sassy drew her dignity around her. The spa slippers on her feet were ruined. The bottom of Trey’s robe was covered in mud. Her hair waved like sea anemones in a storm. None of that mattered.

  She was Eleanor Jerkins Peterson Champion’s daughter, a pickle princess and the beloved stepdaughter of Joel Champion, the chicken tender tycoon. She’d been pushed around enough for one day, especially by a certain drop-dead gorgeous lug with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.

  “No.” Sassy raised her chin. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “That is the first sensible thing you have said this day.” Planting his feet, Grim looked around. “Where is Evan?”

  Sassy counted to three. She wanted to stamp her foot and yell at him, but that would ruin the whole dignified thing. “He’s upstairs taking a shower and getting dressed.”

  “What of his injuries?”

  “He is much recovered,” Conall said. “Demonoids heal quickly.”

  “Excellent. As soon as he finishes his ablutions, he departs.” Grim leveled his bloodshot gaze on Sassy. “You will have nothing more to do with him.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Sassy said. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  “Evan is my friend.”

  “He is not your friend. He is treacherous and unpredictable.”

  “He saved me from the witch.”

  “I will protect you from the witch.”

  “I thought you were leaving.”

  “No. I am sworn to protect you. A Dalvahni warrior is true to his word.”

  Grim was staying? Out of duty, of course. Still, the pronouncement made Sassy’s insides flutter.

  Evan and Duncan were handsome and Conall, Mr. Bleak Intimidation himself, was fatally attractive. Fatally being the operative word, but Grim was more than another pretty face. He radiated a quiet strength that inspired confidence. Sure, sometimes he came off the teensiest bit bossy and overbearing. Okay, the guy was a regular despot and shockingly narrow-minded about certain things—Evan, in particular—but he made Sassy feel safe.

  “Wonderful.” Sassy kept her tone light. A girl had her pride, after all. “With you and Evan on the job, that old witch won’t stand a chance.”

  Grim’s face darkened. “You cannot trust Evan. Tell her, Conall.”

  Sassy held up her hand. “No need. I know Conall thinks that Evan tried to kill his wife.” She gave the captain a serene smile. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, it’s been a long day.”

  Lifting the filthy hem of Trey’s robe, Sassy flounced out of the foyer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sassy sagged against the bedroom door, her legs trembling from reaction. She’d played it cool in front of Grim and Conall, but the episode with Evan had given her the shakes. Monster Evan was big and scary, and not very bright. He couldn’t help it if the witch had mickeyed his food.

  Things had been touch-and-go for a while. Still, she thought she’d handled the situation well, considering it was the first time she’d de-hulked anyone.

  Grim obviously didn’t agree. Grim was a big old grouch.

  Grim, her sigh-worthy god of gloom and doom, her self-appointed bodyguard. If she weren’t engaged, she’d have her wicked way with him. Erotic images of Grim’s big, hard body moving over her, in her, filled her thoughts. No use trying to squelch them. The Pandora’s box of her secret thoughts and desires had been opened.

  And none of them involved Wes.

  Poor Wes; what was she going to do about him? What was she going to do about any of this?

  Bunny rabbits, what a crazy F5 tornado of a day. She should be shell shocked and hyperventilating, doubting her own sanity; a quivering mound of emotional Jell-O ready for massive intravenous doses of Xanax and Thorazine.

  Fairies were real. Witches were real. Demigods were real. One of her new best friends was a dude with tats and piercings. A dude with megaton anger-management issues who turned into a comic book character at the drop of a hat.

  Her other bestie was a super-intelligent noncorporeal voyeuristic telepath.

  She’d had her first heart-to-heart with her father, the Jude Law of the afterlife, and she’d finally gotten to meet her sister-in-law. Her oh-so-dead sister-in-law. Mama always said people get more so as they grow older. Did the same rule of thumb apply to the dearly depar
ted? If so, Meredith would collapse one day in a black hole of cranky.

  Sassy’s estranged brother was the directionally challenged Spotted Ghost Hound of Hannah. As if that weren’t enough, she herself wasn’t completely human. Had never been completely human, which explained a lot, now she thought about it. She was part Muggle and part dementor, with a heaping helping of Tinker Bell thrown in, thanks to a high-octane fairy cocktail.

  She mustn’t forget the Dalvahni transfusion she’d gotten from Grim. She was a supernatural Heinz 57.

  Mama would be horrified. Eleanor Champion didn’t believe in mixing designer apparel, much less species. Had Mama known what she was getting into when she married a Peterson? Had she found out and fled to Fairhope before Sassy was born?

  Sassy doubted she’d ever know. Mama wasn’t much of a talker. She was more of the silent sufferer type. She was silent and you suffered.

  Gracious that smacked of self-pity. A good night’s sleep should set her to rights. First, she needed something cooler to wear. Trey’s robe was heavy and much too hot.

  Sassy crossed the spacious room to Trey’s dresser. Taking a deep breath, she opened the top drawer. It felt invasive and weird, going through Trey’s things, like opening him up and scrambling around his insides.

  The drawer contained Trey’s underwear, folded in precise rows. Big bro was a neat freak and wore Hanro silk boxers.

  TMI, she thought. She slammed the drawer and moved on to the next.

  More Hanro underpinnings: tee shirts sorted by color, black and white. She grabbed a white one off the top. Tissue paper rustled, a happy crackle Sassy associated with shopping and new clothes. Pushing the shirts aside, she found a large bundle buried at the bottom of the drawer. She peeled back the layers of paper and discovered half a dozen pairs of wispy panties. There were bras to match. The tags were still on them.

  How romantic. Trey must have bought them for Meredith before she died, shoving them to the back of the drawer in his grief.

  Sassy hesitated, reluctant to paw through a dead woman’s things. This, however, was an underwear emergency. She held up a hot pink and black lace panty to check the size. A piece of stationery covered in a feminine pink scrawl fluttered out. Sassy unfolded the paper. The message was from someone named Gwen, and the note described, with crude enthusiasm and in graphic detail, the things Gwen wanted to do to Trey.