Demon Hunting with a Sexy Ex

by Lexi George

  “Nettle turned him into a hare and loosed the hounds on him. They caught him and ate him.”

  Cassie blinked. “Goodness. Remind me not to make him angry.”

  “Only a fool earns the enmity of the piskie folk.”

  As if summoned by their conversation, Nettle appeared and began to clear the table.

  “Thank you, Nettle,” Cassie said. “Breakfast was delicious.”

  The piskie chittered something at her and scurried away. Cassie was wondering whether she’d insulted the funny little man, when a gruff, familiar bark drew her to the rail. A large, shaggy wolfhound mix trotted out of the woods and across the flowering meadow.

  “It’s Toby,” Cassie said. “I wonder what he wants?”

  The dog shook a spray of water from his coat and sniffed the bole of the tree. The wolfhound’s form blurred and Toby stood looking up at them. He was wearing jeans and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, and his dark hair was wet.

  “There you are,” he said. “Been looking for you. What in tarnation you doing up a tree?”

  “This is Duncan’s new house. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “It’s a pip. Sorry to horn in, but you got company. They were waiting in the woods near the top of the driveway when I brought Verbena home. For some reason, that was as far as they could go. Me and Verbena drove right on through.”

  Duncan grunted. “I placed wards about the property to keep out strangers in my absence.”

  “Huh,” Toby said. “That explains it.”

  “Who is it, Toby?” Cassie asked.

  “Werewolves—a woman and a little girl. The kid’s in bad shape.” Toby’s mismatched gaze found Duncan. “The woman’s asking for you. Says Mac sent her.”

  “Mac’s dead,” said Cassie. “Where’s Verbena?”

  “At the house. Don’t fret, she’s all right. Your visitors can’t get past the wards, remember?”

  Cassie turned to Duncan. “What do you think?”

  “I think Mac’s mother and sister have come to me for help, and I shall give it. I gave Mac my word.”

  “Hey, Cass,” Toby yelled. “If you mean to take up here, you need to build a bridge, or at least have a dock and a boat. I ain’t swimming across the river every time I get a hankering to say howdy.”

  “He’s got a point,” Cassie said to Duncan. “We are rather isolated here.”

  “My fiendish design exactly,” Duncan said, jerking her into his arms and kissing her.

  Cassie wrapped her arms around Duncan and returned his embrace, her tongue stroking his. He tasted of honey and scones and the berries they had eaten. The world called and their idyll was over, but they still had this moment.

  “Ha-loo?” Toby called from the bottom of the tree. “Anybody up there?”

  Or maybe not.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Cassie leaned over the rail to speak to Toby. “Give us a few minutes to bathe and dress. We’ll meet you back at the house.”

  “Gotcha,” Shifting back into dog form, Toby took off into the woods, his long legs eating up the distance.

  The tub in the bedroom was filled and waiting when Cassie and Duncan went back inside. Nettle chittered, indicating a stack of warm towels, and scuttled from the room.

  The hot, scented water felt incredible, and Cassie could have lingered there until she shriveled, especially since Duncan was in the tub with her. He insisted on washing her hair and her body, and Cassie returned the favor. Things got rather heated and quickly, and it was only the thought of the sick child waiting across the river that kept Cassie from jumping Duncan’s bones and screwing him stupid.

  As they dried off with the fluffy towels Nettle had provided, Cassie gave the tub a wistful look. “Later,” Duncan said, sliding his hands under the clinging cloth to caress her damp skin. “There will be time and plenty for a lingering bath.”

  “Promise?”

  He kissed her. “A Dalvahni warrior does not lie.”

  Cassie looked around for her clothes, then remembered that her bra was in shreds and Duncan had sliced her shirt in two. To top it off, her panties were nowhere to be found. Consequently, she had to be satisfied with wearing her shorts, sandals, and a shirt borrowed from Duncan. The shirt was miles too big, so she knotted it at the waist.

  “I like your bosom unbound,” Duncan said, testing the weight of her breasts with his hands.

  “Yeah? Then you would have loved the sixties. I burned my bras.”

  He frowned. “Allow me to clarify. I like your bosom free of constriction when we are alone.”

  Cassie dimpled at him. “I thought you might feel that way.”

  Duncan took her in his arms, and they returned to the cottage across the river the same way they had come, materializing on her porch.

  “Give me a minute to throw on some clean clothes,” Cassie said, starting down the hall for her bedroom.

  Duncan put his hand on her arm, stopping her. “No. It could be a trick of the alpha to gain entry. Stay inside until I ascertain the situation.”

  “No,” Cassie said. “I’ll go with you—”

  But he was already gone.

  Fuming, she dashed into her room and dressed in clean clothes in record time, then rushed into the hall.

  “Everythin’ all right?” Verbena stood at the top of the stairs, a book in her hands. The expression on her engaging face was dreamy and befuddled, and Cassie was seized with the sudden, fanciful notion that Verbena was Sleeping Beauty, awakened from a hundred-year nap.

  “I’m not sure,” Cassie said. “Toby says there’s a woman and a sick child in the woods. Duncan’s gone to check. Would you mind sprucing up the other room, in case they wind up staying here? Change the sheets, that sort of thing.”

  “Sure,” Verbena said. “I’d be happier’n a dead pig in—I mean, I’d be delighted to help.”

  Cassie nodded absently, her mind on Duncan and their visitors. She was halfway down the hall when it struck her that Verbena’s speech patterns had changed. She backed up and put her hand on the stair rail.

  “Verbena?” she called up the stairs.

  “Yessum?”

  “Did Toby take you to the library?”

  “Sure did, last evening afore—shoot—before we drove out to his place. They’re open until seven. Got me one of them—I mean, I obtained a library card, and checked out some books. Finished them last night, so Toby took me by there again this mornin’.” Verbena peered over the bannister at the top of the stairs. “Did you know there’s a seven-book limit? Don’t that rile—I mean, doesn’t that make you mad? I can read that many like ’at.” She grimaced and corrected herself. “Like that.”

  “That is annoying,” Cassie said. “Clean sheets are in the hall closet.”

  She dashed onto the back porch and saw that Duncan was coming down the driveway carrying a limp bundle in his arms. A woman hurried beside him, her expression creased with sorrow and worry. It was the Randall woman Cassie had seen during the fight on the lawn, the one Zeb had smashed in the mouth and booted out of the pack.

  “Orb sickness,” Duncan said, striding up to the porch. “I will need milk thistle, licorice root, and wild ginseng. Belladonna, too, for the fever.”

  Cassie stared at him in dismay. “Milk thistle I have, but not the rest.”

  “Lucy Hall is something of an herbalist. Mayhap she will have what we need.”

  “I’ll call her right away. Verbena is getting the room upstairs ready. But what about the wards?” Cassie asked, remembering. “Will Lucy be able to get through?”

  “Lucy is no stranger, and my friend,” Duncan said. “The recognition spell I wove distinguishes friend from foe. The spell is akin to that which you placed around the bar to keep out the norms, but in reverse.”

  Ah, Cassie thought in understanding. She made a mental note to talk shop with Duncan later. Compare spells, that sort of thing. But not now.

  Duncan carried the child inside, and Cassie hurried down the steps to speak to th
e distraught mother. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the woman bore signs of orb sickness as well.

  “You’re ill,” Cassie said, going to the ailing woman. “Come inside.”

  The woman swayed and clutched Cassie’s arm. “Just help my baby. Please. I know you got no cause to like the Randalls, but Blaze didn’t do nothing.”

  “Hush, now,” she said, putting her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “We’re going to do everything we can for you.”

  She half carried the swooning woman into the house and upstairs to the bedroom Verbena had prepared. Duncan was already there, tucking the whimpering child into bed. The girl was no more than eight years of age, frail and wasted. Most of her hair had fallen out, and ugly sores covered her thin arms and legs.

  “Blaze,” the mother sobbed, lurching for the bed.

  “Shh,” Cassie said, helping her to a chair by the bed. “Duncan is a healer. Let him do his work.” She tucked a lap blanket around the shivering woman and went to him. “The mother is sick, too,” she said in a low voice. “And the child?”

  His jaw worked. “Gravely ill.” He considered the gray-faced mother. “The mother’s condition seems less severe.”

  “She’s an adult. Maybe her immune system is stronger?”

  “Mayhap. Or the child came in closer contact with the orb.”

  “I’ll call Lucy,” Cassie said.

  She slipped out of the sickroom and went downstairs, her limbs heavy with sorrow and dread. Death was hard, but the death of a child . . .

  Cassie thought of Jimbo and Maggie and little Rose, and felt a stab of pain. Her normal reaction would be to push the pain away and ignore it, but she was done being a coward. Taking a deep breath, she let the memories flood through her, the good and the bad. Jimbo’s and Maggie’s sweet smiles and laughter, their faces flushed and soft with sleep in the firelight as they slumbered on the feather tick. The satin feel of baby Rose’s skin, the child’s breath, sweet as an angel’s kiss on Cassie’s cheek as she slept in Cassie’s arms.

  The anguish of losing them, baby Rose to the fever and Jimbo and Maggie to the Hag. The dull knowledge that she had failed them and her brother; the almost unbearable pain as she buried them beneath the tree.

  You were young. Your heart was broken, and you were grieving. The squeam’s voice, for once, was kind, rather than snarky. You didn’t know about the Hag. You told Jimbo and Maggie to play on the porch because you were terrified they’d come down with the baby’s fever. You had your hands full nursing Rose. You had no idea the children had disobeyed you and gone into the woods. The Hag tricked them, lured them away from the house with her magic. She was a powerful witch, and you were just a girl. You couldn’t have stopped her, no matter what.

  “I loved them.” Tears ran down Cassie’s face. “I still do.”

  Of course you love them, and they love you. Love doesn’t have an expiration date. It endures. They want you to remember them, and they want you to do it without sadness. They want you to forgive yourself and them.

  “Them?” Cassie was shocked. “But they didn’t do anything. I did.”

  They left you, just like Duncan did. Forgive them for dying, and be happy. That’s what they want. Oh, and help Blaze and her mother. They want that, too.

  Cassie wiped her eyes. She felt lighter, somehow, whole. Going to the phone in the hall, she dialed Lucy Hall’s number.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice spoke at the other end of the line.

  “Miss Lucy? This is Cassie Ferguson. Sorry to bother you, but Duncan Dalvahni needs your help. It’s an emergency.” Quickly, Cassie relayed the details of the child’s illness.

  “Don’t have any wild ginseng on hand,” Lucy said, calm as you please when Cassie had finished. “I’ll send Sugar into the woods to find some. He’s a good boy, and he’s got a nose like a pig. I’ll rustle up the rest while he’s gone. We’ll be along directly.”

  She hung up without saying good-bye, leaving Cassie to stare at the humming receiver in her hand.

  Toby peered through the front door. “Got a towel? My hair’s wet. Don’t want to drip on your wood floors.”

  “One sec. I’ll grab one.”

  Cassie hurried into the master bath, returning with the towel. Toby took it from her and gave his head a vigorous rub.

  “Thanks,” he said, stepping in off the porch. “Everything all right?”

  “The child is upstairs, and Lucy Hall’s on her way with some herbs.” Cassie twisted the hem of her shirt. “I didn’t have what Duncan needed, so I asked Lucy to help.”

  Toby squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t fret. Duncan saved me, and I was three parts gone. And we got the enhancer.”

  “About that,” Cassie said, remembering the change in the spritely girl. “Verbena seems . . . different.”

  Toby chuckled. “Noticed, did yah? You should have been there, Cassie. It was something to see.”

  “What was?”

  “You got something to eat? Swimming always makes me hungry.”

  Cassie was delighted to have something constructive to do. Hungry, she could fix. “There’s cornbread left over from last night,” she said.

  “That’ll do.”

  Cassie followed Toby into the kitchen and watched him slice a hunk of cold cornbread. “Sorry,” he said, taking a big bite. “No time for breakfast. Verbena had a bee in her bonnet. Bound and determined to be at the library this morning first thing when they opened.”

  “I have a microwave, you know. You don’t have to eat it cold.”

  “Lord, gal. I’ve eaten a whole lot worse’n cold cornbread in my time. Remember Reconstruction?”

  “I was in Europe.”

  Running from grief and memories, Cassie thought.

  “Forgot about that. What about the Depression? Know you were around for that.”

  “Yes, I remember the Depression.” Cassie opened a cabinet and removed a bottle of Alaga. “Cane syrup?”

  “Is a pig’s butt pork?”

  Taking that as a yes, Cassie fetched a plate and fork, then watched as Toby doused the cornbread in the thick liquid and wolfed it down.

  “There,” he said, wiping his hands and fingers with a napkin. “Reckon I’ll live.”

  “You were saying about Verbena?”

  “Oh, yeah. So I take her to the library last night, like I promised, and we stayed until closing time. About an hour and a half, I reckon.” Toby went to the sink and rinsed his plate. “Never seen anything to beat it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, that gal started in the children’s section. Read everything quicker’n you can say Johnnie ate a tater.”

  “She was browsing? Looking at the pictures?”

  “Nope. She read ’em, and then she moved on to the adult books. Made it to the letter C before the librarian shooed us out. Took her back this morning so she could finish the rest. Pestered me to death until I did. Never seen such a one for reading.”

  Cassie stared at him, open-mouthed. “Are you telling me Verbena has read everything in the Hannah Library since last night?”

  “Yup. Took her home, and she went through everything on my shelves. Read the World Book, front to back, all twenty-two volumes. Read all my biographies—Jefferson, Hamilton, Lee, Alexander the Great, the Bear. Then, nothing doing but she had to read my Popular Mechanics. I got every issue, so that took a while, but she finished them, too.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “Yup,” Toby said again. “Reckon enhancing’s not her only talent. Going to be hard to keep her supplied with books. On the plus side, she can fix your car, make a table, and can vegetables.” He rubbed his jaw. “As I remember, there was an article in one of them issues about how to make beer. Hope she read that one.”

  There was a rap on the back door. “That must be Lucy,” Cassie said, relieved.

  The old woman and the sasquatch waited on the back porch. Lucy Hall was in her eighties. Her gray hair was fashioned in a bun, and her face was
lined and careworn, but there was an air of vitality about her, and she carried herself like a much younger woman.

  “Miss Lucy,” Cassie said, opening the door and ushering them in.

  Sugar had to stoop to enter the house. The bigfoot carried a large, rectangular tote bag made of canvas in one paw. In the other, he clutched a handful of wilted purple flowers. He shuffled on his back paws and looked around, his blue eyes rolling nervously in his huge head.

  “Show Miss Cassie what we’ve brought, son,” Lucy said.

  Sugar started and held out the bouquet. “Pretty?” he said in his warbling voice.

  Cassie took the flowers. Bringing them to her nose, she sniffed. The blossoms had a pungent, floral scent that reminded her of lavender. A feeling of well-being washed over her, and she found herself grinning like a fool. “They’re beautiful, Sugar.”

  “Pretty,” he repeated. “For Dunk.”

  “You brought Duncan flowers?” Cassie said, confused.

  “They’re for the child,” Lucy said. “Sugar brought some home a while back.” She gave the large creature a fond pat. “You’re forever bringing me pretties, aren’t you, sweet boy?”

  “Mama,” Sugar said with a nod. “Pretty.”

  “Pretty strange,” Lucy said. “I’ve lived in these parts all my life and consider myself something of a green thumb, but I’ve never seen this plant before.” She gave a decisive nod. “But I can tell you this. No sooner did I bring those flowers inside than my rheumatism flat disappeared. Haven’t had a twinge since. What’s more, I’ve got a heart murmur. Congenital defect in the aorta. I was born with it, and Doc Dunn’s been after me this age to have it replaced. Says it’s calcified and not working like it’s supposed to. Puts me at risk for a stroke.”

  She gave Cassie a challenging look, as if she expected her to argue.

  Cassie had no intention of arguing with Lucy Hall. She’d sooner argue with an irritated badger. The old woman was ferocious.

  “Doc Dunn’s a good doctor,” Cassie said, groping for the appropriate response. She’d never been sick a day in her life. “Or so I hear.”

  “He’s a meddlesome old fool,” Lucy said. “Replace my valve, would he? What am I, a carburetor?” She sniffed. “You should’ve seen his face when I went in for my last checkup. My valve has regenerated. No more stiffness or calcification. He actually accused me of going to Mobile to have it fixed. Like it’s any of his never mind if I did.” Her mouth tightened. “But I didn’t do any such thing. It was the flowers.”