by Lexi George
“Let’s take my car.”
Eddie yanked her onward. “My truck’s better.”
“But I don’t wa—” Sassy dug in her heels. “Eddie, did you hear me? I want my car.”
Eddie jerked her, hard. “Want in one hand, princess, and shit in the other.” His voice was a grating, un-Eddie rasp. “See which one fills up first.”
Lumps moved beneath his skin. His features blurred and reformed.
“Eddie . . . your face.”
“Damn.” Eddie yanked a wrench out of his coverall. “Time to skedaddle.”
He swung the wrench at Sassy’s head. Pain exploded in her skull and the world went dark.
Grim and Mr. Collier emerged on the riverbank opposite the witch’s cottage. The human pointed his contrabulator this way and that. After a moment, it reacted with an unmistakable tug.
“That way.” Collier set off into the woods.
They made their way through brush and vines, across streams and over fallen logs. Collier’s mechanism sang and led the way, drawing them ever deeper into the forest. Grim followed, plagued by the uneasy feeling that he should not have left Sassy.
His disquiet grew with every step.
“Stop.” He halted. “I am going back.”
“Now? We’re getting close.” Collier waved the vibrating divining rod. “Look at the way it’s a-shimmying. There’s serious woo-woo ahead.”
“Woo-woo?”
“Magic,” Collier said. “Supernatural shenanigans. Hocus pocus.”
The contrabulator tugged the human with such force that he broke into a trot. Huffing with exertion, Collier plowed across a shallow ravine choked with leaves and up the other side.
“ Not . . . far . . . now.”
Grim went after him, torn between his warrior’s instinct and the inexplicable urge to return to the mill.
A few paces beyond, they burst out of the trees and into a small clearing.
“Whoa.” Collier reined in the bucking contrabulator. “Thought we were hunting a witch.”
“We are. What of it?”
“Look at it.” Sweating with the effort, Collier held onto the violently gyrating wire. “It’s orange.”
“So?”
“So we ain’t hunting no witch. Contrabulator glows orange when a demon is near.”
With a muttered curse, Grim strode into the glade. A stick cracked beneath his booted foot, and the ground shook.
“Watch out,” Collier yelled as a dark, twisted shape rose from the bowels of the earth with a shivering moan.
Grim drew his sword and charged, hacking at the fiend with his blade. The wraith dissolved and blew away.
Grim whirled, seeking the enemy. “By Kehv, what mischief is this? I am in no mood for games.”
A ghoulish head materialized, startling him. The glowing face swung back and forth like a gruesome lantern. Black eyes burned in the sunken sockets. Wiry hair clung to the cadaverous skull.
“Gotcha, sucker,” the phantom shrieked. “The early witch gets the worm.”
The ghastly vision vanished.
“Creepy.” Collier sidled nervously into the clearing. “That a demon?”
“Nay, ’twas the witch. Or rather, some spell cast to create her likeness. To what end, I know not.”
“Dang. I was hoping it was a demon.” Collier shook his contrabulator. “This thing needs a tune-up—don’t know a witch from a demon.”
A sickening miasma rose from the ground where the witch’s image had been. The soil was blackened and charred. Grim knelt and dipped his fingers in the ashes. He touched the soot to his tongue and spat.
“I retract my earlier statement,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with your divining rod. This spell reeks of djegrali magic.”
“That right?” Collier’s worried expression eased. “Good to know it ain’t broke. Wonder what that was about?”
Grim knew. The witch wanted Sassy. She sought to draw him away from the mill with her devil’s tricks. His lips curved in satisfaction. The Hag’s efforts were in vain. Grim valued Sassy too well to leave her unprotected. His brother would keep Sassy safe in his absence.
A shadow moved among the trees and Duncan stepped into the glade with his sword drawn.
“What ho, Grim?” The warrior’s eyes were alight with the fever of the hunt. “Have you run the Hag to ground?”
It was as if a giant smashed Grim in the ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sassy was alone and unguarded.
“Ah, gods, Duncan.” Grim swayed. “What have you done?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sassy came to with the lollapalooza of headaches. With a groan, she tried to lift her hand to the tender knot on her scalp and smacked into something hot.
“Yeow.”
She opened her eyes, and saw that she was seated in an old wooden chair facing a crumbling stone fireplace. A small fire crackled on the hearth and a cauldron with something unsavory in it simmered over the coals. The unpainted pine walls on either side of the blaze sagged and were gray with age. Chunks of boards were missing. Through the holes in the house, Sassy caught a glimpse of weeds and sun-dappled, overgrown grass.
Eddie Furr had kidnapped her, but why? More importantly, where had he taken her? She strained her ears and listened; no highway sounds or urban noise. She was somewhere in the country.
And she was alone—for the moment.
This was her chance to escape. She’d slip out quietly while Eddie was gone and make her way back to Grim.
Grim. Her heart clenched in pain. He would be frantic.
Two metal bands at her wrists bound her to the arms of the chair. There was wiggle room aplenty between the shackles and her skin. If she folded her thumb against her palm and twisted, she could squeeze free.
At the merest twitch of her fingers, the bands clamped down like fiery snakes, scalding her.
“Shiitake mushrooms,” she yelped, flattening her hands against the armrests.
The cuffs loosened at once. Nausea washed over Sassy, and the room spun. Her skin throbbed, but only for a moment. The angry red spot faded and healed.
Fairy magic or Grim’s Dalvahni infusion? Perhaps a combination of the two.
She flinched at the creak of a rusty hinge. “Hello?”
“Hurts, don’t it?”
Eddie Furr clomped past her chair. His coveralls and work boots were gone, and he wore jeans and a shirt that said HEY, WATCH THIS on it. On his feet were a pair of gaudy cowboy boots patterned in red, yellow, and black leather. Beneath his clothes, his body writhed like rats trapped in a grain sack.
Ugh. Sassy shuddered. If that was his demonoid talent, it was gross.
He squatted on his haunches to stir the contents of the pot, and Sassy caught a whiff of something nasty. Whatever he was cooking stunk out loud.
She pasted a pleasant smile to her lips. “My, something smells good.”
Eddie snorted. “It smells like cat pee. It’s mimosa extract. LSD and PCP are Pez candy in comparison. Brings a fortune on the black market.”
Sassy was taken aback. “You sell drugs? Just say no.”
“Kiss my ass, Nancy Reagan. And I’d quit squirming in that chair if I was you. Cast iron is poisonous to fairies.”
The witch’s fairy catcher had been made of wrought iron. It had been deadly to fairies. She was chock full of fairy now. That explained her reaction to the cuffs.
It also explained Eddie’s strange and violent behavior. Eddie worked for the witch. Sassy’s stomach lurched. It would take more than charm to wiggle out of this one.
“Whatever the witch is paying you, Eddie,” Sassy blurted, “I’ll give you double to let me go.”
“Eddie ain’t here. I ate him.”
“You what?”
“I ate him. Had to do something. You stole my fairy juice.”
“Oh, God,” Sassy said in dawning horror. “You’re not Eddie. You’re the witch.”
“Sharp as a banana, aren’t you? What was I supp
osed to do, gobble up somebody’s kid? Yeah, sure, I been known to snatch a kid or two. Not anymore. Not with that sharp-eyed, nosy-ass sheriff snooping around. Nope. Puppies, kittens, and goddamn kids. People are sentimental about the little shits. Go figure.”
The thing-that-was-not-Eddie straightened abruptly.
“Aw, hell. Shifter-ka-bob’s wearing off. Not only do the damn things taste gamey, they don’t last.”
Eddie’s body collapsed to the floor like a cardboard cutout and began to spasm, heels and head drumming against the floor. The body stiffened, mouth open in a silent scream. Everything Eddie-ish about it sloughed onto the pine boards. It was horrible, like some hideous, retrograde metamorphosis.
Sassy couldn’t look away.
The shaking stopped, and the witch sat up, joints cracking. She was uglier than Sassy remembered. Patches of hair clung to her oozing scalp, and her eyes were gelatinous pools of black ink.
“Listen to these old bones.” The witch got to her feet. Eddie’s castoffs swallowed her bony frame. Her mottled skin hung in crusty drapes. “You landed me in the crapper when you took my potion.” She spat into the fire. “Fairy concentrate does wonders for my condition.”
“Condition?” Spots danced in front of Sassy’s eyes. Her heart galloped. “A-are you ill?”
“You could say that. Know anything about demons?”
“Not much.”
“A demon’s like a tick, see?” the witch said. “They latch onto their host and drain it dry, then move on to the next one. I was the best healer in the Mississippi Territory before the demon took me. Been dead inside a year if not for my magic.”
Dead, dead, dead. The word bounced around Sassy’s brain. She’d be dead if she didn’t keep the witch talking.
Unbidden, Grim’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. The thought of him calmed her. What would Grim do?
He’d whack the old biddy with his sword. Sassy didn’t have a sword. She’d have to rely upon her wits.
Unfortunately, they seemed to have gone wandering.
Think, Sassy, think.
Stall the witch. That was it. Bargain for time to escape.
“What happened?” Sassy squeezed the words past her constricted throat.
“Couldn’t go home if I’d wanted to—that demon wanted to party.” The witch shuffled across the room and snagged a ladder-back chair. “Headed for New Orleans and had a big old time. Drinking, carousing, and killing. Got knocked up while I was at it.” She showed her sharp black teeth. “Demons really like to screw.”
“Pregnancy must have put a damper on things.”
The witch plunked the chair in front of Sassy. Straddling it, she regarded Sassy over the back.
“Nah. Had the baby, dumped the brat in Hannah with my old man, and kept on partying. Told him the baby was his.” The witch chuckled. “Damn fool believed me.”
This was good, Sassy thought. Engage the homicidal maniac. Take her mind off things or she’d make a Sassy Sandwich.
“Didn’t your husband come after you?”
“Couldn’t,” the witch said. “Didn’t know where I was. Sent the baby special delivery. Woman was mute and illiterate. Put a compulsion on her to kill herself soon as she unloaded the kid. She obliged.” She grinned. “Walked into the river and drowned.”
Dear Lord.
“But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. You look delicious.”
The witch’s tongue shot out of her mouth. It was long and gray, like a slug. Slurp. The slimy muscle dragged across Sassy’s face.
“Tasty.” The witch smacked her lips. “Just what the witch doctor ordered.”
She leaned closer and Sassy gagged. The witch smelled like rotting hamburger, and her black eyes shone with malice.
Sassy’s time was up.
“Your boots,” she squeaked, scrambling for something, anything, to say. “I’m a shoe ho from way back, and I-I’ve never seen anything like them. Where’d you get them?”
“Dandy, aren’t they?” The witch stuck out a skinny leg and admired her showy footwear. “Took ’em off Charlie Skinner. Sneaky bastard stole from me. Snuck into my garden and took one of my prize mimosa trees.” Her oozing black eyes glittered at the memory. “I don’t like thieves. Which reminds me . . .”
She reached for Sassy with clawed hands.
“The demon.” Sassy was wheezing like a pair of bellows. “H-how did you keep it from killing you?”
The witch sat back. “What’s it to you?”
“It’s interesting.” Sassy was shaking so hard the chair rattled beneath her. “Y-you’re interesting.”
“Flatterer.” The witch shrugged. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I bound the demon’s life force to mine. If I died, the demon died.”
“Very clever.”
“You bet your ass it was. Demons go through humans like a hot knife through butter. I’d have died damn quick if I wasn’t a witch.” The witch grimaced. “Black magic comes at a cost. Unfortunately, there were a few . . . er . . . side effects, like a thirst for human flesh.”
“Oh.” Sassy swallowed. “T-that is unfortunate.”
“The fairy potion satisfies the craving and slows the aging process. Can’t restore my youth, but it helps. Two hundred years later, I’m still here.”
“Two hundred years? My, you don’t look that old.”
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. The witch looked older. Like Egyptian-mummy-been-fluffing-up-dust-for-two-thousand-years old.
“Save your breath, girly.” The witch bared her fangs. “The sweetie-pie routine is wasted on me.”
A knife appeared in her skeletal fist. Flames from the fire shimmered on the bright steel. The knife slashed down, and Sassy screamed.
Sassy.
Grim reached for the mill and materialized in Sassy’s office. She was not inside. The roaring in his head made it hard to think. Outside. Look outside. He sped from the building. The yard was in turmoil. With a groan, the main shed buckled and collapsed in a belch of flame and smoke. Toxic fumes drifted in billows. Men shouted and scurried about in confusion.
Their mouths moved, but Grim heard nothing but the pounding in his head. Sassy was somewhere in this shambles. Hurt, perhaps, or . . .
Ah, sweet Kehv, no. Let him find her and hold her. Soon, else his heart would burst.
The smoke shifted and Grim spotted Houston. Moving with the preternatural speed of the Dal, Grim blurred across the yard, not caring if the humans saw.
He grabbed the burly plant manager and spun him around. “Sassy. Where is she?”
“Relax. Sassy left with Eddie Furr not long after the fire started.”
“Furr the demonoid?”
“The demah-what?” Houston’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Furr the loudmouth I rehired.” He turned to shout directions at one of his workers. “No, not there, Tim.” He motioned. “Put ’er over there. And hose down that wood and that bin of sawdust, for God’s sake.”
Grim listened with half an ear. If Sassy was in no danger, then why the burning knot in his gut? Something was not right.
He grabbed Houston again. “Where did Furr take her?”
“What?” Houston jerked away. “How the hell should I know? She ain’t here, that’s all.”
With a loud wail, a large red wagon with flashing lights wheeled into the yard. Humans in helmets, thick boots, and bulky gear jumped off the wagon and rushed to fight the blaze with long hoses.
“Good. Fire truck’s here,” Houston said. A boxy vehicle with a flashing light on top and the word Sheriff emblazoned on the side screamed through the gate. “Sheriff, too. I hope he finds whoever set this fire and buries them under the jail.”
Houston stomped away. Sheriff Whitsun got out of his vehicle. Gesturing wildly, Houston spoke to him. Whitsun said something to the foreman and the firefighters, then walked over to Grim.
“Looks like y’all been having some excitement around here.” The sheriff’s dark spectacles shielded his eyes from the sun. “Any idea how
the fire started?”
“No,” Grim said. “I was not here.”
“What about your wife, Mr. Dalvahni? I need to speak with her, and not just about the fire. One of her employees is dead.”
Grim’s image stared back at him from Whitsun’s tinted spectacles. The warrior in the reflection looked half crazed. Hollow cheeks and eyes. Face pale and set.
“Which employee?” Grim heard himself ask over the frantic clanging in his head.
“Eddie Furr,” the sheriff said. “Found him in the woods.”
“Furr is dead?” The clamor in Grim’s brain was deafening. “How long?”
“Coroner says the body’s been there a coupla weeks.” Whitsun looked grim. “Looks like somebody took a filet knife to him. Skinned him and ate him. Most of him, anyway. Left enough to identify.”
Duncan appeared without warning with Mr. Collier in tow. The human clutched Duncan’s arm, his eyes wide in his ashen face.
If Whitsun was startled by their unconventional arrival, he did not show it.
“Is she here?” Duncan’s face was tight with worry. “Is Sassy safe?”
“No.” Grim’s vision blurred. The world went red. “Sassy is with a dead man.”
The witch licked her lips and sucked the last of the flesh off the digit.
“Dee-licious,” she pronounced, tossing the bone aside. “I feel better already.”
The crone’s form wavered and plumped. Skin tightened and gray curls sprang upon her head. Her nose shrank from a cancerous tumor to a pert button, and her fangs shortened to normal human teeth.
The change in the witch was nothing short of remarkable. Good-bye walking nightmare, hello Ora Mae Luker.
She blinked at Sassy with round, guileless eyes. “How do I look?”
“Like a psycho cannibal granny.”
“Ooh, somebody’s grumpy.” Rising, Ora Mae rooted around on a dusty shelf. “I think there’s a mirror here . . . someplace. Ah, here we go.”
She produced a shard of broken glass and held it up. “Astonishing. If one little nibble does this, think what a full Sassy serving will do. Who knows? You may even restore my youthful good looks.”
Ora Mae lowered the glass to peer at Sassy. “You all right?” Her treacly voice matched her pleasant façade. “You look a mite peaky.”