Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb

by Lexi George

  Soon, Sassy would leave. He would return to the hunt and his solitary existence. That was as it should be, but his old life held no appeal.

  They rumbled onto a structure that spanned a rushing watercourse.

  “The Trammell Bridge.” Sassy slowed the car so they could admire the view. “It’s a five-span rainbow arch over the Devil River. Isn’t it pretty?”

  Grim was not looking at the bridge. He was looking at Sassy’s legs. Sassy’s legs were pretty, slim and well-shaped. Those damnable shoes of hers showed them to advantage, as did the short tunic she wore. The play of her calf and thigh muscles beneath her smooth skin as she shifted her foot on the carriage pedals fascinated and distracted him.

  Yesterday, he’d deemed her merely pretty. Today, no thrall was half so tempting. He forced his gaze onto the water. It was that or ravish her in front of Evan and Taryn.

  That kiss . . . Sweet gods, the memory of that kiss haunted him.

  The river rushed below. Rocks bared their teeth in the tumbling water, hungry titans eager to bite and gnash.

  Sassy continued her dissertation on the bridge. “The arches are made of reinforced concrete. It’s one of a kind. Isn’t that cool?”

  Evan grunted from the backseat. “Never figured you for a history dweeb, Lollipop.”

  “I read about it in a book called the Ghosts of Behr County,” Sassy said. “The bridge was built in 1931 to replace the old iron one. A lot of the locals were unhappy about it. They believed the iron in the old bridge kept evil from crossing the river. Folks were so upset the mayor enlisted the help of a local witch, Cybil Ferguson, to cast a spell. The bridge will vanish in times of need. The townsfolk were happy and the mayor got reelected.”

  “A vanishing bridge,” Evan said. “If that ain’t typical Hannah. Ground zero for freaky.”

  “I think it’s a clever little town.” Sassy guided the vehicle past the last arch of the bridge. “Look at the trees. Aren’t they glorious?”

  “Totally presh.”

  “Sourpuss.” Sassy made a face at Evan in the mirror. “Stop making fun of me.”

  “Like never, my breezy.”

  The easy camaraderie between Sassy and Evan made Grim want to smash something, preferably Evan. He focused on the town of Hannah instead.

  The village was quaint, a small hamlet tucked in a rumple of wooded hills. Neat shops shaded by spreading oaks lined a thoroughfare dubbed Main Street. The glass storefronts sparkled in the morning sun. Pedestrian walkways were swept clean. People strolled past, stopping to chat with one another.

  No one seemed in a hurry. An atmosphere of charm permeated the place, as though the town lay under a spell, untouched by the care and frenzy of the outside world.

  A safe place, a refuge, or so most denizens of Hannah assumed. Appearances could be deceiving. The town had secrets, dangerous secrets. Secrets many of the simple folk dwelling here did not suspect.

  Sassy turned down a side street and stopped under a tree in front of a one-story brick dwelling. The structure was simple but inviting, with a wraparound porch and wooden steps.

  Sassy shut down the engine and sat without moving, her gaze on the rustling leaves overhead.

  “Sassy?” Grim watched her in concern. “Is something awry?”

  “No.” She gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes. “This is the lawyer’s office. I need to speak with him about the buyer for the mill.”

  “Excellent,” Taryn said. “Grimford will take me to Conall whilst you conduct your business within.”

  Grim got out of the vehicle. “No. I stay with Sassy. Soul-sucking evil may lurk behind these walls.”

  Evan sat up and stretched. “There’s a lawyer in there. You can bet on it.”

  “But Conall—” Taryn protested.

  “Will have to wait.” Grim’s tone was final. He walked around the automobile, and opened the door for Sassy. “I will take you to Conall once Sassy is safe.”

  Once she was out of town and beyond the Hag’s reach. Once she was out of his reach. Out of his life forever.

  The knowledge was a heavy weight.

  Sassy swung her shapely legs out of the vehicle and Grim forgot his melancholy.

  Sassy slipped the green wallet over her wrist. “Evan, you and Taryn can poke around Main Street while I speak to Mr. Marvin. I should be through in a jiffy.”

  Evan got out of the vehicle. “Nah, I’ll tag along. This lawyer fellow could be kith.”

  “Jim Marvin is not a demonoid,” Sassy said. “He’s a nice old man.”

  “You’re demonoid, and you’re nice.”

  “Oh, piffle.”

  Sassy flounced down the sidewalk, moving with assurance and feminine grace in spite of the outrageous stilts she called shoes.

  Stilts designed by Pratt to tempt masculine kind, Grim decided, observing the play of the muscles in her calves and thighs.

  She reached the stairs. One, two, three, four steps and she was on the porch. A Dalvahni warrior kept his wits sharp and his body in prime shape through rigorous physical training. Grim was no exception. Nonetheless, his heart raced from watching her climb.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Y’all hurry up. I’m hungry. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we eat.”

  Evan and Taryn had stopped to inspect a shiny black motor vehicle parked in the driveway. The Kirvahni seemed fascinated with motorized carriages.

  Shaking off his lust, Grim left the two of them to their perusal and joined Sassy on the porch. The front door was painted dark green and surrounded by glass panels. A brass sign by the entrance read LAW OFFICE OF JAMES R. MARVIN, LLC.

  Grim opened the door and ushered Sassy into a room appointed with plush furnishings. A plump woman with a sagging bosom and coiffed black hair sat behind a writing table. The receiver of the device humans called a telephone was pressed to her ear. She glanced up, her lips parting in surprise when she saw Grim. A pink chunk of some half-masticated substance was visible in her open mouth.

  “Mother-of-pearl,” Sassy said. “Look at the way she’s eyeing you. Like you’re Tiffany’s and she’s got carte blanche.”

  The door opened before Grim could decipher this bit of nonsense, and Evan and Taryn entered the office behind them.

  The receptionist’s jaw dropped when she spotted Taryn’s hunting garb. Grim made a mental note to speak to the Kir about her attire.

  “Easy, toots.” Evan raised a hand, cutting off the matron’s unspoken question. “We’re with them.”

  “That’s right.” Sassy bounced up to the desk, her curvaceous body radiating energy. “I’m Sassy Peterson. I’m here to see Mr. Marvin.”

  The woman behind the desk glanced down at a chart. “Peterson? You were scheduled for yesterday.”

  “Car trouble.” Sassy gave her a blinding smile. “Don’t you hate when that happens? Cars can be such fussy old things.”

  “Um . . . yes.” The woman looked uncertain. “He’s with another client at the moment. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  She pushed a button on a box and spoke a few words. A moment later, an interior door opened, and an older human male with wavy silver hair and a nose like a bloodhound rushed into the room.

  “Ms. Peterson, are you okay?” The man’s ruddy face was creased with worry. “Your parents have been frantic. I feared the family curse had caught up with you.”

  “Superstitious nonsense, Mr. Marvin.” The speaker was an aristocratic older female. She followed the male human into the antechamber. “There is no Peterson curse.”

  She wore a black dress that reached her knees. The simple garment showed her excellent figure and legs to advantage. Her cropped silver hair was artfully tousled.

  “I think a family curse would be exciting.” Sassy radiated energy and enthusiasm. “How do you know it’s not true?”

  “I know because I’m a Peterson.”

  Sassy’s eyes widened. “Mother-of-pearl, are we related?”

  “Blake Peter
son was my brother,” the woman said. “I’m Susan Grace Peterson Gordan Gordan Cherry Woody Harwood. I’m your aunt—your great-aunt, to be precise, and I’m here to buy the mill.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sassy stared at the haughty stranger. She had an aunt, an actual Peterson. Someone who could satisfy her curiosity about her father’s family. Someone alive. Not a ghost like Junior, who popped in and out at the drop of a hat. Not a dog like Trey, who barked and ran off into the woods to chase squirrels.

  This Susan Peterson blah blah Harwood wanted to buy the mill. Awesomesauce, right? Sign the paperwork and sail back to Fairhope. Mission accomplished. Best of all, the business would stay in the family.

  Then why was her stomach dancing the fandango?

  Like any princess of perk worth her salt, Sassy was able to judge the moods of others. The matronly receptionist, for instance, was in full-blown hormonal flux over a certain Grim-sicle, and Jim Marvin was a-twitter about something, although Sassy did not know what.

  Mrs. Harwood? She was a no-go. The woman was encased in emotional Kevlar. Her smooth, unlined complexion indicated intimate knowledge of good skin care, and she had impeccable taste in clothes. Her vintage Chanel LBD and Jimmy Choo pumps screamed assurance. A diamond the size of a walnut sparkled on one manicured hand. From appearances, the woman had money and lots of it.

  But clothes and jewelry do not a person make, Sassy reminded herself. Melba Hampton owned half of Baldwin County. She treated her servants—in fact, most of the planet, including her husband—like poop. And plenty of people at the club dressed well and lived w-a-a-y beyond their means.

  Susan Harwood could be a black widow spider, a seductress who married older men for their money, then killed them off. Or maybe she had a taste for younger men, expensive younger men who drained her dry. Or she could have lost a fortune at the tables in Monaco. Stranger things had happened. The Suttons back home had lost everything in a Ponzi scheme. Low-cost fuel out of beets, the investor had promised, and they fell for it. The flimflam guy and their money were vacationing somewhere in South America. Permanently.

  Predators circled the murky waters of business. Daddy Joel had taught Sassy that. She had a moral responsibility to Trey and the community to find out more about Susan Harwood. If that meant she’d have to spend more time in Hannah . . . well, that was an added perk. Mama, of course, would have a fit at the delay, but Mama would have to wait. Sassy had a moral imperative to find out more about Susan Harwood. She was on a quest. How exciting! She’d hire a detective to do a background check on Mrs. Harwood, but first she’d do a little investigating of her own.

  Sassy turned up her charm a notch. In her experience, most people underestimated the power of pleasant, something Sassy had used more than once to her advantage. Smile, listen, and learn. Let your adversaries think you’re a ditz, then leave them reeling.

  “Do you live in Hannah, Mrs. Harwood?” Sassy asked in her most agreeable manner.

  “Call me Susan.”

  “Susan.” Sassy gave her a megawatt smile. “And I’m Sassy.”

  Her vivacious persona always affected people in a positive way. Not this time. Sassy got a big fat nothing from Susan Harwood.

  “I know,” Susan said, calm as an eggplant. “Clarice and I stayed in touch through the years. She spoke of you often.”

  Sassy held on to her smile with an effort. “My grandmother spoke of me? How interesting. We weren’t close.”

  Close? They were rarely, if ever, in the same county.

  “Blake ruled Clarice with an iron fist,” Susan said in a tone that said she wouldn’t have tolerated such nonsense. “All the same, she found a way to keep tabs on you.”

  Color her skeptical. Sassy’s grandmother had not once contacted or visited her. What little Sassy knew about her grandmother, she’d read in the papers. Clarice Peterson had been a big deal in the Hannah social set, a generous contributor to her church and the community, and a supporter of the arts.

  “Mrs. Harwood hasn’t been to Hannah in fifty years. We’re thrilled to have her home.”

  Mr. Marvin announced this bit of news with the awed enthusiasm usually reserved for royalty or rock stars.

  “I’m thrilled to be here, James.”

  The silver-haired lawyer flushed. “Your aunt’s a real cosmopolitan. She speaks five languages. She’s lived all over the world.”

  Oh, snap. Mr. Marvin had a baby crush on Susan Harwood. Old people were so cute.

  “Sounds glamorous,” Sassy said. “Guess that’s why I never heard of you.” That and the whole family dysfunction thing. “Was Granddaddy Blake your older brother?”

  “Younger by two minutes. We were twins.”

  “Having a built-in playmate must have been Fun City.”

  “Hardly.” Susan’s eyes darkened from purple to black. “Blake and I saw little of one another. I was shipped off to a Swiss boarding school when I was eight.”

  Sassy’s sensory cilia waved in alarm. There was a visible crack in the older woman’s bland façade. On impulse, Sassy touched the velvet pouch Mose had given her and received a shock. Red, black, and sickly green bands of emotion twisted and coiled around Susan’s aura, an aura that leaked dark energy, like antifreeze seeping from a punctured radiator.

  Bunny rabbits, she’d wanted a reaction out of the woman. She’d gotten one.

  “So young?” Sassy said, managing to hide her reaction. “Weren’t you homesick?”

  “I missed my mother.” The pulsing loops surrounding Susan writhed like snakes. “My father didn’t have much use for girls.”

  Ooh, somebody had major daddy issues.

  “You must allow me and the missus to host a little get-together to celebrate your return, Susan,” Mr. Marvin said. “My wife will skin me for a purse if you say no.”

  “That would be lovely.” Susan turned toward the office, the cloud of dark energy trailing in her wake. “Let’s get down to business and sign the papers. I have another engagement.”

  Now what? Sassy wasn’t about to hand the mill over to Dorothy Vader. As she groped for a polite way to say No, thank you, I’d rather not, an alarm sounded outside.

  “That’s my car.” Sassy threw the lawyer and her aunt an apologetic smile. “Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Evan opened the door and winced as the steady, high-pitched shrill from the street intensified. “I know my way around alarm systems.”

  Susan Harwood looked down her patrician nose at Evan. “I have no doubt you do.”

  Sassy dashed out the door and down the sidewalk to the screaming car with Evan at her heels. Sassy’s Grim-o-meter, which was always up and running, told her a certain demon hunter had followed, too.

  Up and down the street, people poked their heads out of doors to investigate.

  Sassy smiled and waved at them. “Sorry about the noise. It’s just my car.”

  She patted the Maserati’s hood. “Good girl, Mea. That’s enough.”

  The alarm stopped shrieking on cue.

  “Huh.” Evan tugged his earring. “Must be malfunctioning.”

  “No such thing. Mea rescued me. She knew I was in trouble.”

  “You’re in trouble, all right, Lolly. Listen. You can’t sell the mill to your aunt.”

  “I agree.” Grim’s expression was troubled. “There is something about that female I misdoubt.”

  “I know.” Sassy sighed. “I hate to be negative, but I don’t think she’s a very nice person.”

  “Nice?” Evan said. “She’s Blake Peterson’s twin.”

  “So? I need a better reason than that not to sell her the mill.”

  Evan made an exasperated noise. “Sassy, your grandfather was a powerful demonoid and one scary dude.”

  “Explain,” Grim said.

  “Old Blake claimed he had a weapon that would kill the Dalvahni. As you can imagine, the demons were very interested.” Evan leaned against the side of the car and crossed his an
kles. “They promised to make him a big shot if he played nice and shared with them. Blake died in a fire and the deal fell through.”

  Grim’s golden eyes went flat. “How do you know this?”

  “I was raised by demons.” Evan’s sulky mouth twisted. “After Blake died, the ’rents sent me to Hannah to negotiate an arms deal with Trey. He got flattened by a car before we could tie things up.”

  “Conall said you consorted with demons.” Grim’s sword appeared in his hand. The metal was etched with runes. Flames danced up and down the blade. “He failed to mention you conspired with the djegrali to kill the Dal.”

  “Water under the bridge, Big ’Un. I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

  “The leopard cannot change his spots.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Evan smothered a fake yawn. “I’m tore up. Be a good little demon hunter and put the sword away. I’m Conall’s brother-in-law, remember?”

  “I doubt he will mourn you overmuch.”

  “Stick a hole in me and find out.”

  Grim’s sword vanished. “Conall has instructed me not to kill you, and so I will forbear. But know this, Beck. I will be watching you. One misstep and you will feel the kiss of my blade.”

  “Aw, Grimsey. You say the sweetest things.”

  Sassy regarded Evan with mingled horror and sympathy. “You were raised by demons? That must have been awful.”

  On impulse, she laid her hand on Evan’s arm and received an electric jolt as a stream of images flooded her brain. Awful? Evan’s life had been a grotesquerie. Tossed aside at birth like so much garbage, he’d been used and abused by the demons that found him.

  New bodies, new thrills, bigger and better highs—more, the demons always wanted more. Evan satisfied his “parents’” every whim or suffered the consequences. And the consequences were harsh. Burns, beatings, broken bones, starvation, sensory deprivation; Evan had suffered it all.

  If he tried to escape, they punished him. They wove a curse into his flesh to keep him bound to them. One word from the demons and the bindings tightened, cutting through skin and muscle, squeezing Evan’s throat until he passed out.