Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb

by Lexi George

  “Who are you?”

  Taryn gave Whitsun a cool stare. “That also is not your affair.”

  “My county, my business.”

  To Sassy’s surprise, Grim spoke up.

  “She is with me,” he said. “Taryn has matters to discuss with Conall.”

  “Sounds important.” The sheriff’s attention remained fixed on Taryn. “You Dalvahni?”

  “Kirvahni. We are nothing alike.”

  Evan made a noise. “Are you kidding? Strap on a dick and you could be twins.”

  Glancing in the mirror, Sassy knew the second that Taryn processed Evan’s crudity with her translator, because the huntress stiffened.

  “You have a filthy tongue, sir,” she said. “I do not care for vulgarity.”

  Oops, someone had their leathers in a bunch. Time to intervene.

  Sassy shot Evan a repressive glare. “Sometimes, Evan can be such a card.” She turned back to the sheriff. “What he’s trying to say is that Taryn and Grim have similar goals and interests.”

  “The hell I am,” Evan said. “I’m saying they both got a giant stick up their asses.”

  Some people could not be helped. Sassy decided to try another tack.

  “Taryn’s a demon hunter, too,” she told the sheriff. “Isn’t that cramazing?”

  Whitsun grunted. “That explains the outfit.”

  Taryn looked down at her vest. “Is something amiss with my apparel?”

  “Nothing, Daniella Boone. Except it’s May in Alabama and you’re running around in suede,” Evan said. “Hot in a kinky elvish dominatrix kind of way, but definitely weird.”

  Taryn’s lips tightened. “I see.”

  “Your clothes are not a problem. Your weapon is,” Whitsun said. “Hunting season is over, so that bow better be for target practice.” He stepped back. “Stay in the vehicle while I check this out.” He jabbed a finger at Grim. “And you—back in the car.”

  Unclipping a police radio from his belt, he walked back to the Jeep. “Willa Dean? Get Joel Champion on the horn, pronto. I think I’ve found our missing deb.”

  Ten minutes later, Daddy Joel was on the phone.

  “How could you do this to your mama, Sassy?” he scolded. “She’s been worried sick.”

  The reproach in her stepfather’s voice plunged Sassy into a quicksand of guilt. Daddy Joel was right. Mama must be frantic. Sassy had never spent so much as a night away from home. No slumber parties in elementary school. No trips to church or cheer camp. No out-of-town ballgames.

  In college, Sassy lived at home, driving from Fairhope to Mobile for classes at Spring Hill College. She texted Mama when she arrived on campus, and again on the trip back. That was the rule.

  Otherwise Mama fretted, and Sassy and Daddy Joel moved heaven and earth to avoid that. Mama was the piper, and they danced to her tune.

  “You’re very important to us, Sassy Bug.” Daddy Joel’s voice softened. “You’re our silver and our gold, a treasure beyond measure.”

  It was one of Daddy Joel’s favorite sayings, a warm fuzzy that made Sassy light up inside. It was lovely to be wanted and protected.

  “I’m sorry Mama got upset.” Sassy’s hand tightened on the phone. “Tell her I’ll be home this afternoon after I meet with the lawyer.”

  “Come home now. You can handle the sale of the mill by phone. Your mama needs you.”

  Sassy felt a twinge of annoyance. “This afternoon, Daddy Joel.”

  “Let Wesley handle it,” Daddy Joel said. “That’s what husbands are for.”

  A tiny seed of rebellion germinated inside Sassy. She didn’t want Wes to handle it. She had a business degree and a perfectly good brain.

  Besides, Wes wasn’t her husband yet.

  “In fact,” Daddy Joel continued, “I think I’ll have him drive up there. You can follow him home. You could get lost in a paper sack.”

  It was an old joke between them, but, for some reason the familiar words irritated Sassy today.

  She pressed her lips together. “Toodles, DJ. Give Mama my love and tell her not to worry. See you soon.”

  Ignoring Daddy Joel’s sputtering protests, Sassy handed the phone back to the sheriff with a breezy smile. “My parents are such worrywarts. Know what I mean?”

  “Nope.” Whitsun’s mirrored sunglasses reflected the glare from the sun. “I was raised by my aunt Weoka. She didn’t tolerate nonsense out of anybody, especially me. Do you know your hair is fizzing glitter?”

  Sassy batted the colored sparks darting around her head. “New product,” she lied. How long before the fairymones wore off and her hair stopped reacting to her emotions? “Are we free to go?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Now that she’d been properly identified, Whitsun seemed relaxed, even pleasant. He took her by the elbow, walked her back to the Maserati, and opened the door. A real Southern gentleman.

  “You take care, Miss Peterson,” he said. “You have any trouble while you’re in Hannah, any trouble at all, you let me know.” Whitsun’s gaze shifted to the huntress. “That goes for you, too, Miss Kirvahni.”

  Taryn stared straight ahead. “I do not recall asking for your help, nor do I need it.”

  “Duly noted. The offer still stands.”

  Sassy paused with the car door ajar. “Actually, Sheriff, there is something I’d like you to look into.”

  “If it’s fixing a traffic ticket, forget it.”

  “Of course not. This is a criminal matter.”

  “Let it go, Sassy.” Evan leaned forward in his seat. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of what?” Whitsun gave Evan a hard look. “You got an issue with somebody in my county, you take it up with me.”

  “No issue, Sheriff.” Evan relaxed with a grin. “No issue at all.”

  “Evan, she drugged you and locked you in a shed.”

  “Who did?” Whitsun was once more all business.

  Sassy opened her mouth and shut it again. “I don’t know her name. But she’s horrible and belongs in jail.”

  “That so?” Whitsun jerked his head at Evan. “You get this cockamamie story from him?”

  “It’s not a cockamamie story. It’s the truth. I was there. If I hadn’t let Evan out of that shed, she’d have eaten him.”

  “Cannibal, huh?” The sheriff looked skeptical, but his notepad came out. “Whereabouts does this man-eater live?”

  “Down by the river in a little cottage,” Sassy said. “It’s very quaint, like something out of a fairy tale.”

  Whitsun stopped in mid-scribble. “That sounds like Ora Mae Luker’s place. You telling me a little old lady drugged a grown man and held him prisoner?”

  Evan reddened. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

  “What kind of drugs she give you?”

  “How should I know? She fed me tea and cakes. Next thing I know, I’m in the shed.”

  “Seems odd.” Whitsun gazed over the car at nothing. “Ora Mae’s never been in a lick of trouble. Nonetheless, I’ll look into it.”

  “Evan will be glad to make a statement,” Sassy said. “Won’t you, Evan?”

  “No, I won’t. Law enforcement gives me a rash.”

  The sheriff slid the pad back in his pocket. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I’ll be in town a few more hours, Sheriff,” Sassy said. “Come by my lawyer’s office. I’ll give you a statement. James Marvin, you know him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Spiffy.” Sassy cranked the engine. “Maybe I’ll see you later, then.”

  She waved good-bye and guided the sports car back onto the road.

  “Rule number one, Lolly,” Evan said, “Never involve the cops in kith business.”

  “What’s a kith?”

  “You are.” Evan crossed his arms. “It’s what demonoids call ourselves.”

  “Oh. Is the witch kith?”

  “She sure as hell ain’t no norm,” Evan said. “Ora Mae and I have unfinished business. I don�
�t want any bumbling county mountie getting in my way.”

  “I, also, have plans for the witch.” Grim’s tone was tight with menace.

  “Do not underestimate the sheriff,” Taryn warned. “He is a dangerous man.”

  “Oh, pooh,” Sassy said. “Everybody’s so serious. Can you believe the witch’s name is Ora Mae? That’s so Dukes of Hazzard.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Do you realize if Daddy Joel hadn’t vouched for me, I’d be in jail right now? Isn’t that exciting?”

  “You wouldn’t last a hot second, Lollipop,” Evan said. “They don’t have princess suites in county lockup.”

  Maybe not, but if the sheriff had thrown me in jail, I wouldn’t have to leave Hannah.

  Mother-of-pearl, did she want to stay in Hannah that badly?

  Yes. More than a sneak preview of the “what’s hot and what’s not” list for fall.

  More than a dozen pairs of new shoes. More than a tube of everlasting, never-drying, never-clumping mascara. More than hair that didn’t shed sparkles and resemble a bowl of curly noodles.

  More than a mani-pedi and a shopping spree. More than a month off from the pickle factory.

  She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay in Hannah.

  Sassy jerked the steering wheel in shock. The car swerved across the yellow line and into the path of an oncoming truck.

  The startled driver laid on his horn. Sassy jerked the car back into their lane.

  “Hey.” Evan smacked the back of Sassy’s headrest. “What’s the big idea?”

  “Sorry.” Sassy took a steadying breath. “There was something in the road.”

  “Yeah, a big-ass truck,” Evan said. “I could count the freckles on that bubba’s schnoz.”

  “Are you always so excitable?” Taryn asked. “You bleat like a goat at the slightest thing.”

  Taryn’s comment went over like a stripper at a Mennonite church meeting. A heated discussion ensued—on Evan’s part, anyway. Sassy doubted a nuclear furnace could ignite Taryn. Folding her hands in her lap, the huntress listened to Evan fuss and fume, her lovely lips curved in the slightest of smiles. Jiminy, was there a sense of humor buried under those layers of ice?

  Sassy glanced at Grim. His russet hair stirred in the breeze. He stared out at the woods, his sculpted profile impassive. Jeez Louise, he was a total babe.

  A slight frown line belied his seeming calm. Poor little demon hunter; according to Dell, Grim had lived in seclusion for years—centuries. And now he was dealing with this.

  Talk about shock therapy.

  She punched a button. Music poured through the back speakers and muffled Evan’s yammering.

  “Sorry about that,” Sassy said to Grim. “I know your nerves must be seriously worked.”

  “Why do you apologize?” Grim did not turn his head. “My happiness or unhappiness is not your burden.”

  “Of course it is,” Sassy said. “Making people happy is what I do.”

  It was true. If she had a talent, it was affability. She was a people pleaser on crack, the cheerful cleric of conviviality.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sassy saw him turn his head. He was studying her in that serious, intent way of his. His gaze sent a wave of heat through her, like a physical touch.

  She liked it. She liked it a lot, and she wanted more. Marshmallows, she was rapidly becoming a Grim junkie.

  “And in order to do that, you must suppress your own desires,” Grim said, “subdue any less-than-ebullient emotion, else you have no value?”

  Sassy kneaded the steering wheel. “When you put it like that, it sounds awful. Pathetic, even.”

  He shrugged. “Change. The choice is yours.”

  “It’s not that easy. People expect it of me. It’s why they like me.”

  “Is the approval of others so important to you?”

  “I like making people happy. I’m good at it.”

  “You are a blithe spirit, Sassy Peterson, but your measure is far greater than your gift for cheer.”

  “You’ve got a lot of room to talk. You’ve got worlds of potential. You can do magic, for Pete’s sake. But Dell says you’re obsessed with killing demons. Dell says you have sex to get rid of any pesky little feelings that might interfere with your precious hunt.”

  “I do not know this Dell, nor does he know me.”

  “Of course you know Dell. He’s the Provider.”

  “What?” Grim’s voice rose. “You renamed the Provider? This time you go too far.”

  “There’s no need to shout. I didn’t rename him. It was Dell’s idea, and I agreed. ‘Provider’ is a terrible name.”

  “The Provider is an apt designation for an information source.”

  “It’s cold and impersonal. People give more thought to naming their dogs.”

  “I am not ‘people.’ And a dog is a living, breathing creature. The Provider is not.”

  “Shame on you, Grim Dalvahni. I expected you to be more open-minded.”

  “And I expected you to refrain from meddling in things you should not. It would seem we are both doomed to disappointment.”

  “Mother-of-pearl. Sometimes you are so stuffy. We’ll continue this discussion over lunch.”

  “Luncheon? I assumed you would be leaving as soon as you spoke to the lawyer.”

  “A girl has to eat,” Sassy said. “I’ve always wanted to check out the Sweet Shop Café. They print the weekly menus in the paper. The food sounds Southern scrumptious.” She shook her finger at him. “But don’t think for a second that we’re finished with the subject of Dell. I’m not giving up on this.”

  Grim heaved a sigh of resignation. “I never for a moment thought you would.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The motorized carriage hummed through the green tunnel of trees lining the road. The woods in this region were much to Grim’s liking. Lush growth teemed with wildlife. His peculiar ability told him the thick timber concealed a wealth of creatures: rabbits; a pack of jackal-like canids with long, slender legs, pointy ears, and narrow muzzles; numerous species of birds and rodents; an abundance of deer; and several colonies of leather-winged bats. Reptiles slithered through the vegetation. Feral swine nosed their way through dense underbrush.

  Near the river, a lone bear rooted through a patch of plants, grunting in pleasure at the taste of the tender shoots. Beavers and otters played in the shallows. A tawny cougar watched with hungry intent as a fawn strayed from its mother.

  Always before, the forest had called to Grim, a dusky siren welcoming him with cool green arms, a refuge where he lost his consuming guilt and sorrow for a brief time by merging with animals. The lion and the wolf knew not the ache of remorse, nor did the eagle forsake the pleasure of riding the wind.

  Gryff was dead. The familiar sting of self-reproach was tempered by thoughts of Sassy. What a relief to have something to dwell upon other than regret and revenge.

  High time. The Provider’s voice intruded upon Grim’s thoughts. Twelve hundred years is a long time to mope.

  I do not mope. I seek vengeance upon mine enemy.

  And when you are not hunting, you mope. Your mood has markedly improved since your arrival in Hannah.

  There has been much to occupy my mind.

  More than your mind, the Provider said. I saw you and Sassy in the river.

  The river . . . Sassy in his arms, her delectable body pressed close to him, his senses spinning with the taste, scent, and feel of her.

  Kissing seems an awkward business. The Provider picked up Grim’s thoughts. Yet you went about it with apparent enthusiasm. Is it truly enjoyable?

  It depends upon whom you are kissing.

  Did you enjoy kissing Sassy?

  More than Grim wanted to admit. The wench enthralled him. He could not stop thinking about that kiss. It was becoming something of an obsession with him, but he had no intention of discussing it with the Provider or anyone else.

  Except, perhaps, Sassy; Grim would like to discuss that k
iss with Sassy very much.

  Better yet, he would like to repeat the experience.

  But Sassy was leaving this afternoon. He would never see her again. A pall of gloom settled over Grim. Sassy had brightened his world beyond measure. She was a breath of spring in his eternal winter. Ye gods, he would miss her.

  Grimford? Did you take delight in pressing the fleshy folds of your mouth against Sassy’s?

  Leave it to the Provider to describe what had been a heady, heated experience in such sterile terms.

  Grimford? Hello?

  The Provider would not relent until satisfied. Time to take the offensive.

  Sassy informs me that you wish to be called Dell.

  There was a startled silence.

  Yes, with your approval.

  I approve. Dell is an excellent appellation. Short. Strong. A name worthy of a Dalvahni warrior.

  A warrior’s name . . . really? For a being without physical substance, the Provider sounded breathless. I am pleased. I feared you would think me presumptuous.

  No such thing. I am chagrined I did not think of it myself. Remembering Sassy’s comment, Grim added, Provider is a trifle cold and impersonal.

  I have always thought so. I never expected you to agree. Thank you.

  Think nothing of it. The vehicle passed a sign declaring they had entered the city limits. Fare thee well, Dell.

  Fare thee well, Grim.

  Grim congratulated himself as he disconnected. He had distracted the Provider, no easy thing. He looked forward to sharing the exchange with Sassy over lunch. He imagined her delight and the sparkle of pleasure in her lovely blue eyes when he told her about their conversation.

  His lips curved in a smile. She would be pleased, and that made him happy.

  An odd sensation, happiness. A Dalvahni warrior took gratification from performing his duty. From worlds protected and mortals saved from the ravages of the djegrali. Other emotions Grim knew: the emptying release of sexual desire in the House of Thralls—though, admittedly, not as often as the Directive instructed—the consuming heat of battle rage, and the thirst for revenge.

  In two brief days, Sassy had expanded Grim’s emotional spectrum. He had experienced terror, jealousy, desire, and protectiveness. This quiet, warm feeling, however, was unexpected and pleasurable.