by Lexi George
The light bulb went off, and Cassie snapped her fingers. “I know you. You’re Verbena Skinner. You worked at the shifter bar before—”
She faltered, realizing with dismay that she’d just put her foot in her mouth.
“Before that polecat Earl Skinner burnt the place to the ground?” Verbena’s eyes flashed. “You can say it.”
Cassie’s cheeks heated. “Sorry. But I thought—”
“That Earl was my brother and old Charlie Skinner was my dad? Nope, and I’m glad. Charlie tried to have me kilt. Throwed me to the demons for sport, like I was no-count.”
“That’s terrible.” Cassie stared at her in horror. “Why didn’t someone stop him?”
“Who’s gon’ stop Charlie, and him the head of the clan?” Verbena snorted at the suggestion. “Specially since Charlie worked a deal with the demons and them Skinners thought they was gon’ get rich. Nope, they didn’t give a hoot about me.” She pressed her lips together. “Which is Jim Dandy by me, ’cause I ain’t no Skinner. Happens my mama caught a baby from a traveling man. Van Pelt. Verbena Van Pelt—that’s my name now. Took my mama’s name, on account I don’t know my real daddy’s name.”
Cassie couldn’t blame Verbena for not wanting to be associated with the Skinners. White trash, the lot of them, an inbred clan of moonshiners and thieves with a reputation for skullduggery and violence. Only the year before, Charlie Skinner had been murdered. Drowned in his own ’shine after a bad batch of hooch poisoned some of the kith. No one would buy Skinner whiskey after that. Scuttlebutt had it the Skinners had fallen on hard times. Served them right, Cassie decided, for treating the girl so abominably.
“Old Charlie’s dead now,” Verbena continued, as though reading Cassie’s thoughts, “and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Earl since the day he set fire to the bar. Reckon he lit out afore the sheriff arrested his sorry butt for arson. I hope he stays gone. If I never see him agin, that’ll be a day too soon.”
“No doubt,” Cassie murmured.
She knew what had become of Earl, but she’d keep her mouth shut about it. Earl Skinner had been eaten by a dragon, an honest-to-God, fire-breathing dragon. Hannah was a strange little stewpot of bizarrity, but that was weird, even for around here. Norms didn’t believe in dragons. Didn’t believe in demons or demon hunters, or demonoids, either, for that matter. And a darn good thing, too. In Cassie’s experience, scared norms were dangerous. The dragon and Earl were dead. Best for everyone—particularly the kith—if the norms stayed none the wiser.
“This is all very well,” Duncan said, frowning at Verbena, “but you have yet to explain why you left Conall’s protection.”
Verbena twisted her thin hands. “I seen them Skinners poking around the restaurant. Joby Ray—he’s the head of the family now—said he’d come to fetch me home. Said if I didn’t do what I was tole, he’d cause trouble, so I skedaddled. Hid in the woods a few days and tried to figure what to do. Don’t mind telling you, I was stumped. Got no place to go.” She looked up at Duncan with huge, trusting eyes. “Then I thought of you. Recollected you was kind to me and . . .” Verbena swallowed. “Thought maybe you’d help me.”
“Of course I shall help you, child,” Duncan said at once, “but how did you know where to find me?”
“Oh.” Verbena turned red. “Heard you talking at the restaurant a while back. You told Mr. Conall you was staying on the river to be near—” She shot Cassie a quick glance, her blush deepening. “Anyhoo, knowed right off where you was staying, on account of the dawgs.”
Duncan’s face clouded with puzzlement. “The dogs? I fear I do not follow.”
“It was my job to run Old Charlie’s hunting dawgs, see?” Verbena explained. “If I didn’t run ’em and run ’em good, I’d get walloped. Know these woods like the back of my hand. Knew right off where you was staying when I heered you talking. Found your campsite, but you was gone. Heard a commotion in the woods and came on them fellers what’s building you a house. It’s gon’ be a honey when they’s done, Mr. D. They told me where you was, and here I am.”
Verbena’s matter-of-fact account of her life with the Skinners sickened Cassie. If Charlie were alive, she’d curse him into next week for what he’d done to the poor girl.
“What did the Skinners want with you?” Duncan asked.
“It’s on account o’ my talent, I reckon.” Verbena drew herself up. “They thought I was a dud, but turns out I’m what you call an enhancer.”
A “dud” was the derogatory term used by kith to refer to those of their kind without talent, but Cassie had never heard of an enhancer.
She puzzled over the strange term. “When you say ‘enhancer,’ do you mean you augment the talents of others?”
Verbena wrinkled her nose. “Augment? Whazzat?”
“Increase,” Duncan explained.
“Oh. Well, then, yeah. Leastways, that’s what Toby and Mr. Conall says.”
Tobias Littleton was a cagey old shifter with a nose for magical talent, and Cassie’s oldest friend. She and Toby went way back. He’d been the bouncer and co-owner at Beck’s Bar, a shifter joint that had catered to kith before Earl burned it down.
“If Toby says you’re an enhancer, then you’re an enhancer. But Conall?” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Please. Much he knows about the kith.”
“He must needs know something,” Duncan said. “He is married to one of your kind. From all appearances, he adores his wife.”
Cassie’s throat tightened. Your blood is tainted with evil. I cannot be with you. Those had been Duncan’s words to her.
She lifted her chin. “Guess Conall’s not a judgmental jerk, like some people.”
Verbena’s big eyes widened. “Mr. D, you been a-judging on Miz Cassie?”
“Once and long ago, when I first learned she was a demonoid. I had no notion your race existed, and the discovery . . . Well, suffice it to say, I was disconcerted.”
“Disconcerted?” Cassie gave a bitter laugh. “You said I was an abomination.”
“I was cruel—this I freely admit,” Duncan said. “And I soon came to regret it.” He held out his hands to Verbena. “I have begged the lady’s pardon most humbly. Alas, she cannot forgive me.”
Verbena turned her limpid gaze on Cassie. “How long you been a-holding on to your mad?”
“A while.”
“How long’s a while?”
Mischief danced in Duncan’s eyes. “More than one hundred of your earth years.”
“A hunnert—” Verbena shook her head. “Jehoshaphat, that’s a long time to stay swole up.”
“Indeed it is.” Duncan countered Cassie’s furious glare with a bland look. “A very long time.”
“You gotta stick up, Miz Cassie, it’s plain to see,” Verbena said. “It don’t do to sit on things like a broody hen. Sours your stomach and makes you mean.”
“It has certainly given her the crotchets,” Duncan agreed. “She has been wroth with me lo these many years.”
Cassie decided to ignore this, and turned to address Verbena. “So now Joby Ray realizes you’re an enhancer, he wants you back?”
“’At’s right.” A satisfied little smile played around Verbena’s lips. “Turns out them Skinners ain’t doing so good. Their moonshine b’ness has went bust and most of ’em can’t manage a decent shift no more.” She pressed her lips together. “But I ain’t going back. I ain’t.”
“No, indeed, you shan’t,” Duncan said in his calm, soothing way.
Verbena’s defiance faded. “I’m a big one for talkin’, but you don’t know ’em like I do. They’s mean as a snake-bit dawg, and they got places to hide a body where they won’t never be found. They set the hounds on me this morning. Would’ve caught me, too, but Bo-Bo found me first, and so I knowed they was coming.”
“Bo-Bo?” asked Cassie.
“My dawg,” Verbena said. “He was a mutt, see, like me. Nobody else wanted him, so I raised him from a pup. Had to leave him behind when Old Charlie tried
to have me kilt.” Her mouth quivered. “Like to broke my heart to shoo him away, but I knowed if Joby Ray caught me, I’d ’uv been done fer. Them Skinners plan to lock me up and never turn me loose.” She turned her pleading gaze on Duncan. “That’s why I come to you.”
Duncan executed a curt bow. “I am at your service, but what of Hank? I thought the two of you had an understanding.”
“Hank’s gone.” Verbena blinked rapidly and looked away. “Took off a few months back. Said he couldn’t be sure about . . .” She blew out a breath. “Anyways, he’s gone.”
“Hank?” Cassie looked from Duncan to Verbena.
“He was the chef at the restaurant, but he ain’t no more.” Verbena dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “He was in the papers, see? That food feller from the Mobile Press called Hank a canary artist, or some such mess.”
Cassie suppressed a ripple of mirth. “Do you mean a culinary artist?”
“That a fancy word for cooking?”
“Yes.”
“That’ll be it, then.” Verbena flushed at her mistake. “Hank got real tetchy after he made the paper. Hightailed it lickety-split a few days later.”
“Ah,” Duncan said with a wise nod. “Hank feared your talent as an enhancer had something to do with his success. This bruised his manly pride, so he departed.”
Verbena heaved a sigh. “That’s it, and no bark.”
“I confess I am disappointed in Hank.” Duncan frowned. “I did not think him such a maw worm. Howe’er, that being the case, you are well rid of the dickhead.”
Cassie made a strangled sound. “Duncan Dalvahni, where did you learn such a word?”
“Dickhead? The Dalvahni translator equips us with local vernacular to enable us to assimilate. The term means ‘a stupid or ridiculous person,’ and is most aptly used to refer to a man. Did I not use it correctly?”
“To a T, but I never thought to hear you say it.”
Duncan’s eyes twinkled. “Methinks I am unexpected.”
“Oh, you’re unexpected all right,” Cassie muttered. “Unexpected like a freaking natural disaster.”
Duncan put a hand to his ear. “What was that, my love?”
Cassie scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you? I am not your—”
The crunch of tires on gravel interrupted her. Someone was here. She glanced at the bell on the wall in annoyance. It hadn’t rung. Again. The clapper must be busted.
There was the muffled thud of a vehicle door shutting, followed by the sound of booted feet.
“You in the house,” a man shouted. “Send Beenie out, or we’re coming in.”
Chapter Four
Verbena gave a startled squeak and scooted behind Duncan. “That’s Joby Ray. Lord a-mercy, them Skinners done found me.”
“Stay inside. I’ll deal with this.” Cassie gave Duncan an inclusive glare. “Nobody, but nobody, bosses me around in my own home.”
“You got a gun?” Verbena peeked around Duncan with a doubtful expression. “Onliest way to get rid of a Skinner is to shoot ’em dead.” After a moment’s reflection, she added, “Knives work, too—and axes and shovels and a whole bunch o’ other tools. Pizen will kill ’em—if’n you can get the varmints to drink it. Don’t seem likely, so a gun would be better.”
“She has no need of weapons.” Duncan’s sword appeared in his hand. “I will accompany her.”
“No, you will not,” Cassie said. “This is kith business.”
“Fear not. I am the soul of discretion. They will never guess that I am Dalvahni.”
Cassie gave him a duh look. “Give me a break. You’re tall. You’re handsome, and you’re muscled to the max. And you’re waving around a meat cleaver. Trust me, they’ll know.”
“You think me handsome?” His laughing eyes teased her. “I am gratified.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Cassie said. “I don’t like you worth a damn, but I’m not blind. For God’s sake, do as you’re told for once and stay inside with Verbena.”
She spun on her heel and strode down the hall. She kept a variety of hiking staffs in a rack by the back door to enhance her magic: poplar wood to aid in banishment spells, apple for harmony and fairy magic, ash and basswood for healing and love spells, cherry for spells of detection, and cedar for invocation, to name a few. Wands were less cumbersome and more portable, but too obvious. Nothing screamed Look at me, I do magic and shit like a wand, and she didn’t want to draw the attention of the norms. But nobody thought twice about her carrying a staff, not when she lived alone in the woods on the river. And if anyone did give her a funny look, the word “snakes” dispelled suspicion. Alabama was crawling with snakes, some fifty species, and rattlers, cottonmouths, and copperheads were among them. And there were snakes of the two-legged kind, as well, like the Skinners. Cassie held her hand over the bristle of walking sticks. Which staff should she use? She’d had a run-in or two with old Charlie before he’d died, and he’d been a piece of work. Charlie had tried to hire her. Offered her money to hex the Furrs, his competition in the moonshine trade. He hadn’t been happy when she’d declined. If this Joby Ray character was anything like his brother, then he was a slimeball maximus. Better take something to counter bad energy, she decided. After a moment’s hesitation, she selected an elder staff studded with blue chalcedony. That should combat negativity nicely. If not, she’d bean him over the head with the damn thing.
Flinging open the door, she stepped onto the porch. The air shimmered beside her and a whiff of a woodsy scent told her that Duncan had ignored her admonition not to interfere and had followed her out of the house. Color her not surprised. On the plus side, he’d made himself invisible. She’d forgotten he could do that.
“I know you’re there,” she said through her teeth. “What part of ‘stay inside’ did you not understand?”
“Worry not, my sweet. My cognitive abilities remain unimpaired.” His disembodied voice spoke out of the ether. “Though I doubt not you will acquit yourself well with these scoundrels, I desire to see them for myself.”
He was impossible. She could stand here talking to the ozone, or she could get on with the task of delousing her property.
Pasting a pleasant smile on her face, she strolled down the steps to greet the interlopers, the elder stick clutched in one hand. Six ferrety-faced, shifty-eyed men stood in her driveway. A wormy-looking lot, Cassie concluded, assessing the men with the practiced eye of a healer, as though they suffered from the same wasting disease.
And they smelled to high heaven, a sickly-sweet odor that reminded her of rotting fruit.
They appraised the place with calculating eyes. Mentally tallying her belongings and their worth, no doubt. A sticky-fingered lot, the Skinners. So many members of the clan had been arrested for burglary and receiving stolen property, they could have their own recovery group, and bring stolen cookies to the meetings.
A middle-aged man with bandy legs and the slicked-back hair of a televangelist stepped to the front of the mangy cluster of men. His face was gaunt, as though he’d lost weight—a lot of weight, and fast. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a short-sleeve shirt, unbuttoned to display his scrawny physique. A few hairs straggled across his narrow chest and trailed down his sunken belly.
Hitching up his jeans, he swayed closer. “Name’s Joby Ray Skinner, and these here are some of my kin. You Cassie Ferguson, the one folks call the witch?”
Cassie planted the elder staff in front of her. “That’s the norm term, but I’m kith, same as you.”
Not exactly the same, thank God. They were both demonoids, but the Skinner family tree didn’t branch.
“That right?” His slimy gaze roved over her, lingering on her breasts in a way that made her skin crawl. “Could be, I reckon. You got the eyes. You a shifter?”
“No. I have other talents.”
“I bet you do.” He grinned, showing small, pointed teeth, like a possum’s. “Right, boys?”
There was a chorus
of grunts and whistles from his kinfolk.
“Charming.” Cassie pointed her staff at the dusty black Ram 3500 mega cab sitting in her drive. Three nervous hounds paced in the back of the vehicle. “Nice truck.”
Fifty grand plus worth of nice, unless Cassie was mistaken.
“Ain’t ours,” a cadaverous man at the back of the group volunteered. “We brodied it. Stupid norm left the keys in it.”
“Shut up about that. That’s Skinner b’ness.” Joby Ray gave Cassie an oily smile. “Nice place you got here. Kinda remote, though. Ain’t safe for a purty thang like you to live alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone.” There was an invisible demon hunter hanging around, somewhere. “And I’ve got a security system.”
Her magic was on the fritz and so were her alarms, but the Skinners didn’t know that, thank goodness. Later she’d reset her wards, but first to deal with this riffraff.
The easiest thing would be to turn the girl over to them, the voice whispered in her head. Why get involved? It’s not your style.
No, but Verbena was alone and in trouble, and Cassie knew what that felt like. She couldn’t turn the girl over to this white-trash posse and look herself in the mirror.
She gripped the staff. “What can I do for you, Mr. Skinner? I have a variety of spells and potions that might interest you.”
“Don’t want none of your juju. We come for our kin.”
He stepped around Cassie, his acrid scent washing over her.
She hurried to block him, barring his way with the staff. “And who might that be?”
“My niece, Verbena. Worried about the poor little thang. We had a fallin’-out, see? I come to welcome her back into the fold.”
“Verbena’s staying with me.”
“That right?” Joby Ray’s sunken eyes narrowed. “Why would a fine lady like you wanna rub elbows with a gal like Beenie?”
“Our friendship is recent.” Like a few minutes old. “I give her room and board in exchange for her help around the place.”
Whoa, where’d that come from? It was one thing to lend a helping hand, another altogether to take someone on to raise. The Skinners were trouble, and she was asking for it.